#once he's sure you love them both the same

[kayentokk]

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“What?” He jumbles out between a cough and a laugh.

He heard you but he doesn’t know if he should answer that.

“C’mon kats be honest,” and then a little quieter, “do you think I’m pretty? You know, like worth it?”

You don’t know where this is coming from. Maybe all the rejections or failed relationships. Maybe because you somehow always love them more. Maybe because you know, intuitively, that this friendship will end the same. You’re just tired of pretending you don’t fall more and more in love with him every day. Trying to move on didn’t work, so you’re gonna try this. Honesty. For once.

You’re both sitting on the steps of the small porch in front of your apartment. Dingy porch light attached to the bricks flickering between bright and dim.

He just looks at you. Aghast.

Your face subconsciously deflates. Figured, you think. Or maybe you say it, you’re not so sure anymore.

Just as you brace yourself for some insensitive comment, next rejection, and end of this friendship, you’re graced with his calloused lips on yours. Though somewhat dry it’s not rough, it’s gentle. Delicate.

Then just as quick as the kiss was delivered, it was gone. And you opened your eyes to his crimson piercing ones looking right at you. Through you. Into you.

A breath.

“I think you’re worth it all.”

[cheriladycl01]

Hey! Could you write a fic where female reader is an older driver (maybe debuted around the same time as Seb) and just little scenarios of her being a mother figure towards the drivers. Maybe mix of SMAU and written story (if you do that) xxx 😊 big thx

MUM! - Grid x OlderDriver! Reader

Plot: Everyone needs their grid mum, and that’s everyone!

F1 was you’re life.

Not in a oh I love watching the races every week and going to one race a year. No, you were convinced there was fuel in your veins.

You drove for about 16 years in F1 being the first female driver to win a race. You debuted at the same time as Sebastian Vettel, you guys were bestfriends and didn't let racing affect that friendship. And that's all it ever remained. Every bone in your body loved Seb, he was quite literally your platonic soulmate. When you first met, your now husband, he'd become fast friends with Seb and never questioned your friendship with him and never tried to involve himself too much to the point it felt forced and thats why you knew he was the one.

When you left F1, you left the same year that Seb did, it felt right leaving the same year he did and you discussed it with him. For you it was because you wanted to focus on family. You were 17 when you first got into F1 and now 33 years old and you wanted to settle down with your husband and expand the family. Which apparently wasn't as much as a struggle as you thought it would be as you'd gotten pregnant 5 months after retirement. Giving birth in 2023 and now being pregnant again in 2025.

But F1 and half the drivers you grew up with didn't want you to leave the sport. So when Sky Sports reached out you knew you had to go.

But with the growing amount of Rookies you seem to have adopted children as well as having had them as well.

Sebastian Vettel

y/user

Liked by sebastianvettel and others

y/user: 25 years of friendship! Happy Birthday to the Grid Dad from the Grid Mum! 🫶🏼

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sebastianvettel: woah, I wish I looked this cool now! Look at that haircut 🫨

-> y/user: a diva once, a diva always

fan1: OMG MOTHER AND FATHER!!

You and your husband always made sure to vist Seb for his birthday, it was like an annual gathering that was held where you both were able to have a massive catch up without being near anything to do with racing.

"Happy birthday!" you crashed him handing him his huge bag of gifts before you went to his wife who you'd become very close to and hugging her handing over a cheeky bottle of wine for the both of you to share.

Your husband stood with Seb while you and Hanna went into the kitchen to unpack the food that you'd got for Seb's birthday dinner.

"Thank you for coming" Seb smiles pulling you into a hug, sighing against you.

"I havent missed one in 25 years, even when i had Tonsillitis i still got here. Wasn't much fun for you guys, but you all had a great time" you grin at the memory making him laugh. He could still see you, wrapped up in a bundle of blankets on his sofa with a box of tissues and a honey and lemon tea.

"Mmmmm good times" he laughs, pulling out of the hug and helping you and Hanna dish up.

"What are you doing?" Hanna cries seeing him doing work.

"Huh?" he asks confused.

"It's your birthday, go sit! Keep out other guests entertained and enjoy yourself!" Hanna exclaims, forcing him out the kitchen where he went to sit with your husband.

Your husband and Seb actually did lots of what you and Hanna called 'guy things' together. They'd go on fishing trips while you and Hanna would go to Italy or Spain and soak up the sun. Or they'd play games while you and Hanna went shopping.

Your husband also found joy in travelling with you and your kids adored seeing their Uncle Seb who despite it being his birthday always had to have something for his favrioute kids.

However, another child always seemed to lurk their way into these parties, that being yours and Seb's first adopted child, Lance Stroll.

You and Seb had been officially made mum and dad of the grid. It started off with Lance being taken under his wing and you just sort of joined in with that.

Lance Stroll

Lance was one of your favrioute people, you could sit with him in a comfortable silence and didn't feel like you needed it to be forced. He was also incredibly funny when he wanted to be.

One time, you'd been talking to him off of camera and he's accidentally called you mom. You'd bursted out laughing before querying him wondering if he really did see you as a mother figure.

"Yeah and what?" he asked and you stopped shocked.

After that it was just sort of known that you and Seb had taken on the roll of parents to all the little drivers across the grid.

You would always make sure to make time for Lance as he always would make the time for you. You werent keen on his dad, as he always gave you strange stare that made you feel like he hated you, no matter how many times Lance told you to 'just ignore it'.

"Lance, that overtake today was incredible!" You praise and he nods in thanks.

“Im glad I managed to get us in the points after Fernando’s crash” he offers and you nod. He’d got himself P6 which was a good score considering how the rest of the season had been going.

“Mmmm you’re leading the Aston Team now” you exclaim happy at the fact.

“Thanks Y/N, you’re always there for me” he says making eye contact with you.

“Can’t get rid of me Lance, I’m your mother” you tease and he laughs looking down.

Charles Leclerc

y/user

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others

y/user: Interviewed my first son today. He asked for a hug :) always such a pleasure interviewing him and getting time to talk. Oh and then theres Lewis ...

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charles_leclerc: Ahhh thank you, ma mère adoptive! You should come see Leo your Grandson!

-> y/user: I have a grandson?! I'm so old!

fan1: argh she's so cute with everyone! We all knew she's be such a good mother (real mother)

-> y/user: I'll have you know I've been a real mother since 2018 when Charles joined the grid.

-> fan1: omg she replies!!!!!

lewishamilton: i'm not ignoring her i swear...

Charles and you first met in 2017. He was very nervous when he came up to you, asking you how you felt you're race had went. You later found out he had a whole script to say to you after your race that you'd started from pole. Little did he know that Lewis was going to turn into you on lap 3 and crash you out for the rest of the race.

"Well, i didn't finish so not great kid" you chuckle at his nervous expression where he'd finally realised what he'd said.

“I erm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that” he blurts out and you can only laugh at him.

“I know I know. I’m just teasing you” you say placing a light hand in his shoulder trying to ease his nerves.

“You know you’ll be racing with us soon” you grin at him knowing he’s signed for Seb’s old team.

“Yes, I’m excited … and nervous. You’re all so great” he compliments looking down and you sigh.

“I bet you’re gonna be big. Like world champion big. I can see it now. Charles Leclerc WORLD CHAMPION” you say raising your hands in a jazzy manner.

“That should be you. You should have hand a championship but it’s HIS fault” he directs looking at the screen following Lewis in your P1.

“How are you so calm and not angry at him?” He presses and you just laugh.

“I used to get very angry when I first started and I was young. But you learn that you being upset gets you nowhere. I learn from my mistakes, I don’t let them have a hold over me” you explain to him. Knowing that you were a much calmer and level headed driver than you used to be.

“Do you think I’ll ever be as good as him?” He asks tone softer than it was before.

“I think anyone can be as good as him, given the circumstances. I’ve know Lewis for years and he’s where he is now because of how committed he is. He works and trains harder than anyone I know. He’s got an incredible team behind him and a car to match, when all of that falls into play you’ve got yourself a winner. He’s one of the greats and will be remembered by everyone” you offer and Charles nods, now seeing the current leader of the championship in a new light. He’d always looked up to him, but now he just seems like a hard worker and Charles wanted to be that.

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis by far was not one of your grid kids, being a similar age to you and having started your careers in the same year you’d know him for an incredibly long time.

Which means you knew his tendency to be a little … childish. And by a little you mean a lot.

Too put it bluntly Lewis is a massive brat.

He doesn’t act angry when races don’t go his way, he’ll pout and be all salty looking like a puppy whose just had his biscuits taken away from him.

He’d been know to throw caps at his teammates when they said something bad about him and would often try play the victim card. You’d know him for so long that you knew the games he played like the back of your hand.

“Lewis!” You chide the man whose currently slumped over on the drivers room. You were both on the podium. Max having taken the win.

“What! He’s taken my win from me!” He points at the empty seat where Max should be.

“That’s racing! You’ll get him next week, this week things didn’t go your way and that’s okay. So stop sulking and put that gorgeous smile on your face” You command sick of him moping when he’s still up on the podium. He looks up to see your famous mum look, and nods on instinct feeling like it’s his mum scolding him when he was a child.

“You’re scarily good at that look Yano? Ever think of having your own?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, but I gotta retire first” you smile and he nods.

“We’ll get out of here then, less competition for me” he grins and you shake your head laughing.

That’s the Lewis you knew.

Jamie Chadwick and Bernie Collins

y/user

Liked by bernie.collins.1, jamiechadwick

y/yser: COMMENTATING WITH MY DAUGHTERS!!! Look at how beautiful they are!!! So proud of Jamie for last weekend in Indy Car as well, as a ex-female driver I hope to see her in F1 in the future!

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Jamie and Bernie were a recent development in the F1 World. You couldn’t be more pleased that women were taking more of an interest in the sport than they historically had.

Not only as viewers but working there. You now saw so many female engineers and mechanics. And it made you so happy that women were comfy within the sport.

When Bernie came onto the scene you immedielty took the younger lady under your wing, almost becoming a mentor. But the mum side would slip out at times when people managed to pick up on it.

"Bernie did you put cream on? It awfully sunny and they haven't given you an umbrella!" you exclaimed one day, going into your back and taking out the aerosol can of sunscreen you'd brought with you incase anyone was in need.

"No i was a little rushed this morning leaving! I didn't realise how early they wanted us at the track" she sighed and you offer her the can showing her you can spray it in her cheeks. She closed her eyes letting you spray it on before you wipe it in.

"Don't wanna get greasy hands before you hold your mic hun" you smile at her as she opens her eyes thank you for the coverage.

It was very similar to Jamie, who was much younger but also whenever the girl came to the f1 track would find her way to you.

But the moment you really saw it was when you went to her Indy Car race. Her parents werent able to attend and you had the weekend free so of course you and you're husband came down for the show.

And you couldnt be prouder of her. You were one of the first people there to congratulate her on her amazing race, pulling her into a huge sweaty hug.

"I'm so proud of you darling! You did so well!" you smile kissing the side of her head pulling her in for a second hug.

"Thanks mum" she chuckles with a shake of her head before heading off with her team.

George Russell

y/user

Liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt and others

y/user: My son drove me and his girlfriend to work today! Recommended 10/10!

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georgerussell63: yeah you're welcome. Might need you to come to parents evening soon. Professor Wolff isn't happy with me or Kimi!

-> y/user: @ susie_wolff get your husband in check! lol

->susie_wolff: will get on this now, not our sons, not on our watch

-> georgerussell63: thanks mum number 2

kimi.antonelli: Mr Wolff is very scary. PS can i have some help with my homework?

George was one you always watched out for. Being a British driver you felt like you had to mentor him. Which is exactly what you did. The minute he came into Williams despite his awful first year, you knew he was something worth your time and knowledge. So you helped him out, gave him small pointers on the track and he got his first points in F1. The car got better as the year went on and he was driving with more ambition.

George had a special place in his heart for you after all you'd helped him do in his career. He was one of the saddest when you annouced your retiremeant. You had to actually to take him out to dinner and explain to him privately that you were leaving even before it got out in the media.

"So what's this treat of a meal for? Not my birthday!" he says digging into the Carbonara that was in front of him.

"Well, next years going to be a little different in the races!" you start to explain not picking up your own knife and fork, wanting to concentrate on getting everything out in the open.

"What, OMG are you changing teams?" he asks in shock.

"No, i'm retiring" you say and he chokes on the pasta making you look up in shock. He also looked shocked too.

"W-what? No you cant be!" he says looking at you. You were his favrioute person on the grid. He always came to you whenever he had a bad race or an issue with Max, which you always treated as if they were siblings in an argument.

"I'm sorry, but it's my time and i want to be with my husband and ... i wanna start a family" you smile softly looking at him.

"Were you're family. Here racing!" he demands a sour upset sort of look on his face.

"George ... i love you all. But i need to do this. For me, okay. I'll still come and visit. Think i've got a free paddock pass for life ..." you joke.

"But ..." he starts but you just smile.

"Come on, lets not spoil a good meal" you say, tapping his hand.

"You better come visit" he mutters looking up at you with a smile.

"Does that mean i'll get to be a cool Uncle?" he grins and you laugh with a nod.

"Oh absolutely"

Kimi Antonelli

Kimi Antonelli wasn't who you expected for Mercedes to replace a 7 time world champion. However, he was for sure the right choice. You saw him as this timid young teenager who was still going through school.

When he'd started in 2025, you were at every race as a commentator or guest. You loved travelling and being with the calendar as it went through the year and being in their to see the wins and talk to your old friends.

But Kimi was interesting. 2025 had brought many rookies who were in a very different age bracket from you. Which meant of course they all flocked to you like sheep.

Kimi was a special case where you met his mum in his F1 debut when he crashed. His mum was incredibly worried and you consoled her as much as you could until Kimi came to meet the both of you.

After that moment she trusted you with her son. You would go with him from the hotel to the track and you'd sit in the Mercedes hospitality with him.

"I don't get this, what does it mean?" he asks you about a question on his English homework that he didn't really understand. This was a typical race weekend now, between practices and interviews you were hauled up with papers both of you having what you called mocktails. It was literally just fancy water with lemons and limes and an umbrella in it but you and Kimi always found it funny ordering them.

"Well, its asking you how the poem makes you feel... its about emotion in literature" you then translate it into Italian, and he nods a thoughtful face appearing across his features before. He writes his answer out in english before showing it to you and you smile.

"I recon if you werent half the driver you are, you'd be a poet!" you grin and he frowns lightly knocking your shoulder.

"No! Shush!" he cries before laughing with you.

"Good thing I'm a good driver then!" he jokes and smiles taking some water.

Isack Hadjar

y/user

Instagram Story Caption: He destroyed the car, but got a hug from me!!!

Yuki Tsunoda

Instagram Story Caption: Mine and @ nicolepiastri child!

Lando Norris

Instagram Story Caption: MY SON WON!!!!!

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[awaxagoras]

something something office au eheheh :3 amphoreus has infected my brain so ! phainon [ mydei and anaxa were supposed to be in this too , but it got too long and now im embarrassed . next post . trust me ] ALSO . . not really intentional but this is slightly yan coded . I love freaks sowwy (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

okiii so hear me out abt office au [ I don’t have anything specific in mind so the details are up to you lol ] ur job isn’t anything special but it pays the bills . typical office position . replying to emails , making copies , organizing ur boss’ schedule , etc etc . gets intense sometimes considering how high you’ve climbed up the ranks , but it’s nothing you can’t handle

you haven’t met him yet , but you’ve heard a lot about the newest employee . despite the recency of his arrival , it sounds like he has already gained the respect of not only your coworkers , but the people above you , too . he was the one to initiate your first meeting , actually [ you feel kinda bad about not seeking him out first , but he doesn’t seem to mind ]

abruptly stops the elevator door from closing one morning before stepping inside with you [ it’s kinda weird that he never glances at button panel (ᵕ—ᴗ—) ] introduces himself as phainon , smiling brightly at you and politely offering his hand to shake [ his grip seems slightly firmer than it needs to be , but it’s probably just due to his extroverted nature ] he briefly tells you about his transfer from his old company to this one before imploring about you . once you get to your floor , he unexpectedly follows you to your desk . what a coincidence ! he’s on this floor , too ! ( ◠‿◠ ) nice decorations , by the way ! [ . . does he need to lean so close to you to look at them ? ] maybe you could help decorate his desk sometime haha [ more under the cut bc I yapped too much sowwy ]

his own work station is across the room from yours but that doesn’t seem to stop him from going straight to you whenever he has a question [ you had heard about this guy’s achievements and the whispers that he was the perfect employee . why is he asking you about the photocopier ? and why does it feel like he’s not really listening ? (•᷄‎_•᷅ ) ] you swear he’s always in the break room at the same time , too . haha wow another coincidence ! it’s like you meant to be or something haha . . [ he’s not really joking ] you can’t pinpoint when it happened , but he’s gotten your drink preferences down to a science . oh , no need to thank him ! [ judging by the way he turns his head for a moment in an attempt to hide the flush on his face , he’s quite happy that you always thank him anyway ⁠♡ ]

although he often seeks you out for mundane things , phainon never fails to jump to help you with your work [ even thought you don’t ask ] you’re grateful , at first . one glance at his work immediately proves that the rumours of his excellence are indeed true . it starts to get slightly irritating when he finishes projects that you’ve started without asking you or even mentioning it until after it’s been submitted to your boss

sure , his work is amazing and he breezes though it almost effortlessly , but you aren’t as helpless as he’s making you feel . he’s never condescending towards you , but you can tell he doesn’t take your words seriously . he’s not phased when you tell him that his actions aren’t necessary . haha alright , alright ! he’ll focus on his own work from now on . [ he won’t . the cycle repeats ] you’re starting to feel guilty now , too [ you didn’t even start this , either ! what the hell ! (•̀⤙•́) ]

both of you have relatively high positions at the company — you know firsthand that the workload can get overwhelming at times and now he’s carrying double the responsibilities ? and it’s because of you ? laughs at your concerns . he’s flattered that you care about him , but you shouldn’t worry so much ! he’s got this ! buuuuut . . if you feel like you need to repay him so badly , why don’t you go out with him sometime ? [ and sometime after that . and after that ] great ! it’s a date (๑>؂•̀๑)

[slowdrawl]

Third Sunday of June | Husband!Joel x Wife!reader | one-shot | 18+ minors DNI

| Jackson!Joel | established relationship | canon divergent | ~3.8k words |

Summary:Father’s Day comes quietly this year. Your daughter is asleep on Joel’s chest. The world is still. There’s no fanfare, no gifts—just softness and the weight of what you’ve built. He’s not sure he deserves it. You spend the day reminding him he does.

A/N: Spent my morning thinking about Jackson!Joel with a newborn on Fathers Day. So I made this. It’s grief, healing, memory, devotion. And Joel Miller saying “mama” in a way that will stick to your ribs. if you like to get horny and cry at the same time this one is for you. ps. i wrote and edited this real quick, sorry if its a mess

Warnings: 18+ MDNI , grief (Sarah mentioned), BREEDING KINK,SMUT, ITS ALL SMUT,baby in established relationship, domestic softness, emotional intimacy, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, piv, creampie, praise kink, use of “mama,” slight dom!Joel, tooth rotting.

You wake up slowly. Sunlight filtering through the little gaps in the curtains, painting the room with streaks of gold and pink. You reach over beside the bed, arm searching. You find nothing When you roll over, you feel him, solid and warm against you. Joel is lying there, pillow propped up behind his head, awake. His eyes are puffy, you can’t tell if he’s even slept at all. Your daughter is sleeping on his chest, he’s got one arm wrapped below her, cradling her. He makes her look so impossibly small. “Good morning, lover,” you whisper, voice barely awake. He rolls his head toward you, looks down, and smiles softly. “‘Mornin', darlin’,” he mumbles, his voice too rough with sleep, maybe something more. His throat sounds a little tight, eyes are wet. “Did you sleep alright?” you ask. He just nods once, slow, looks down at her in his arms. “She woke up for a while an hour or so ago, got her back down quick,” he whispers. “You always do, think your voice makes her feel safe,” you say, “probably all that talkin' n’ singing to her you did before she was born.” He smiles again, just barely. Doesn’t say anything. He just curls his hand a little tighter around her back. You watch his thumb start to move, rubbing tiny absent-minded circles—like he’s grounding himself. His face is set in soft worry, as if he’s scared that if he stops touching her, one of them will drift away. You shift closer to him, tucking into his side, resting a hand over his. “She’s perfect,” you murmur. His jaw shifts some, and he closes his eyes. You feel it in the way his breath catches in his throat. The way his hand stills. “She looks just like her sister,” he says. You nod. “Yeah, I see it too.” The words, the room, the light. It all hangs there. Fragile. You don’t try to patch it, just listen, just let him speak if he wants. “I keep thinkin’—“ he starts, then shakes his head. “Hell. I don’t know what I’m thinkin’”

You press your lips to his shoulder.

“It’s okay if it’s everything all at once.”

You hear him swallow hard.

“Feels like I’m cheating. Lovin’ her like this. Havin’ her at all.”

You sit up slowly, shift so you can take the baby gently from his chest, and lay her down in the bassinet beside you. She stirs once, just for a moment, then settles.

Joel watches you the whole time, eyes fixed and glassy, throat working around something he can’t quite say.

Once she’s settled, you turn back to him, knees tucked at his sides, your hands bracing on his chest.

“Joel,” you say, voice gentle, but firm. “You never stopped loving Sarah.”

He stays silent.

“You just… didn’t let the world stop forever. Didn’t stop living. And that’s okay.” You bring your hand up to his face, caressing his jaw. “You’re allowed to keep moving forward, she’d want you to, baby.”

“I don’t know how to do this.” He exhales something shaky from his chest, “It’s been so long, I feel like I forgot how.”

You’re scratching the nape of his neck now, both hands on him, reminding him you’re here, you’re real. 

“You don’t have to know everything. That’s why we have each other.” 

You prop yourself up on an elbow, kiss the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t I make somethin’ for you to eat?” you offer, “pancakes?” 

He looks at you, caught off guard. Like he wasn’t expecting kindness today.

“You don’t need to do that.” He says.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, kissing him again, on his lips now.

 He doesn’t keep protesting, just looks at you with his big brown eyes as you slip out of bed and walk out of the room.

The light in the kitchen is still gentle, golden.

You move through it quietly, just to let him have the stillness.

You cook, shape the pancakes into little hearts.

It's simple, but it's the simple things that take you back to before this. Before everything got dark.

You go into your pack and pull out the gift you've been holding onto for a few weeks.

You put the card on the table. The one you scrawled in crayon. The one you spent an hour trying to get just right while he was on patrol.

Paint everywhere, from her head all the way into every nook of her toes. She'd fussed the whole time.

Her little footprint was perfectly stamped in the middle of the paper in blue.

You set the table, and plate the food. Put the card on his seat.

You know he'll come out as soon as he smells it.

You boil the water and take it out. Coffee.

You traded one of the gentlemen who came through town a few weeks ago. Joel didn't know. He thought you were at Tommy and Maria's, but you were really with that man's family, painting them a portrait. He gave you a tin of coffee beans, you thanked him, and thanked him, and thanked him. He didn't know.

You grind them up, and as soon as it hits the hot water, you hear his feet hit the ground.

After a few minutes, he rounds the corner with your baby in his arms, both of their hair messy from sleep.

He doesn't speak, just walks up to you and leans his forehead against yours, holding her between you like she's the most precious thing in the world. Like she's everything. Because she is.

You eat in silence. Nothing but the sound of birds outside, the sound of cutlery scraping, and her cooing every so often.

When he opens the card, his eyes go glassy all over again. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands like it might crumble. Or maybe he will.

"You're too good to me," he murmurs as he sips the coffee. 

"Not possible," you say, sitting right next to him, resting your hand over his on the table.

"You are my heart, Joel. You always have been, always will."

You squeeze his hand, he lifts it and kisses the back of it, looking right into your eyes. His gloss over with something too soft to name, no edges today.

The rest of the day passed like a dream.

But not in the way where it felt unreal—no. In a way where everything blurred at the edges. Where the light felt like it stayed warm a little too long, the breeze was too gentle to be anything but divine.

You sat on a blanket in the grass while Joel strummed the guitar, back leaning against the old porch post, your daughter nestled in his lap.

She kicked her feet, babbled. He stared at her, listening like she was preaching scripture. She swatted at the strings, and he just smiled, letting her. Didn't even try to stop her when she slapped the frets and giggled like she'd invented the very concept of music herself. He just kept strumming, singing something soft and low, the melody familiar and broken in, like an old t-shirt.

You watched them like that for hours, something deep in your chest, something you couldn't speak either. Something much too big for just love.

When the sun sank low behind the horizon, and the bugs came out, you cooked again. Something simple, warm. Pasta. You stood in the kitchen together, and he kissed your shoulder as you cut herbs. The baby giggled at every sizzle of the pan.

Later, you both bathed her. Joel held her like she was made of porcelain, crooning quietly under his breath while you rubbed soap through her soft little curls.

Eventually, when you put her down, he read to her. The same dog-eared books he always chose. Sesame Street, Robert Munsch… His voice was steady and soothing. Her little hands clung to his finger even as she nodded off.

You played cards, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table. You let him beat you at rummy. Twice. Then you teased him, accused him of cheating. He looked smug as hell, happy. After, you told him that if he was gonna hustle you, he'd better be the one doing dishes. He said, "Yes, ma'am," in what was still left of that lazy southern drawl you loved so damn much. It made your stomach flutter.

Now you’re in the bathroom, running the shower. You make him get in, reluctant as he is, you convince him. He trusts you. He loves you. You pour shampoo into your palms and lather it, scrubbing his hair with all the tender care in the world. He sighs into your chest as you scratch at his nape. Tipping his head down so you have easier access. He does the same for you. When the soap is rinsed and the water begins to cool, you press your body to his, arms wrapped and wet around his shoulders. You kiss him. Not hard, not desperate, or fueled. You just let your bodies melt together while the water runs over you like rain. When you break the kiss, you look up at him, water cascading through his curls, over his face. His lips are red and a bit swollen, his eyes aren’t glassy anymore, they’re dark. Hungry. The water seems to have been able to wash away some of the weight of today. He leads you out of the shower, wraps your hair up in one towel, and takes a second to dry off your body, paying perfect detail to every inch. You do the same for him. There is something so special about days like these. Where everything feels slow, comfortable, connected. They don’t come often anymore, not since the baby. You both get dressed in pajamas, he puts on pants, you just a shirt. Trying your very best to be quiet as you open drawers so the baby stays sound. He stands behind you as you stand at the end of the bed and watch her for a while. He wraps his arms around your middle, palms flat on your belly. He  leans his head onto your shoulder, mouth beside your ear, whispers, “Thank you for giving me her.” You turn your head, look him in his eyes for a minute, and respond. “No, Joel.” You kiss him again, “Thank you. Thank you for making me a mama.” “I love you.” is all he responds, mumbling it into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there, sending static waves all the way through you. He wraps his big hands tighter around your belly, kissing up from your shoulder to your jaw as he slowly walks you backward toward the bedroom door. As soon as you let the door softly click closed, the air in the house changes. It charges. He doesn't say anything when you guide him toward the couch—no. He just follows, like you're tethered to each other. His hands are still locked on you as you make your way to the couch in the dark.

He pushes you down onto it, then drops down to his knees. You reach forward and run your fingers over his bare shoulders, digging them into the tension that's there, today, every day. You massage him, cradle his face, and touch everything you can reach. He kisses you like he means to undo you. Slow at first, like he's still not quite convinced this is what he deserves. Like every inch of you is prayer, and he's scared to speak it too loud. His hands trail up beneath the shirt you're wearing. His shirt. Callused fingers palming gently at your sides, up and down like he's relearning the shape of you. He leans in and kisses you, harder this time. Still not demanding, it's like he's just claiming you as his. It's the kind of kiss that breathes in you like he's starving for oxygen and tastes like memory. Like every version of him that's ever loved you is all showing up at once.

You moan into his mouth when he slides his hand down from your jaw, over you collarbone, down lower. He stops to cup your breast, circling his fingers so gently over your nipple. His mouth moves down your body and replaces his hand. He sucks and flicks at your skin through your shirt, rolling his tongue over and over.

You can feel his restraint start to slowly slip. Feel it leaving him through short, little panting breaths.

The way he touches you is slow, full of that all-familiar ache. His hands find your thighs, your waist, and finally up under your shirt. When he pulls it over your head he pauses like he's seeing you for the first damn time.

Your hands reach for his face, thumbs brushing the sides of his jaw, rough with stubble.

You watch his eyes darken as they make their way over your body, traveling, lingering at the softest parts. Your belly, your chest. All of the places that bore witness to what you built together

He lays his palms flat against your stomach and stops.

"She was right here," he says, voice quiet. "You carried her right there."

You cover his hand with yours, pressing it tighter into your skin. "She was," you whisper. "And you loved me through every second of it."

His other hand slips down, cupping between your thighs—you feel him shudder when he finds you already wet, needy.

"Still love you like that. More, even."

You breathe out something shaky. "Then take me there again, Joel."

You watch his throat as he struggles to swallow, his brows twitch into the smallest furrow for a moment. He leans into you, rests his head against your bare thigh.

"I've been feeling like the word was gonna end again," he murmurs. "Like this peace...this quiet...this thing we built is just borrowed." he keeps his head down, "I don't wanna waste it. I wanna remember everything."

You slide your fingers into his hair and tug. Not hard, just enough to make his eyes flick up to you, glinting in the low light.

"The world isn't ending again, Joel, we're gonna keep building ours, together. Everyone's safe," you say.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, then higher, then higher, then higher.

He hooks a finger underneath the waistband of your panties and then looks up at you, like he's asking for permission.

You nod, and when he peels them down, he doesn't just look—he stares.

"Fuck, so wet already" he says, voice dripping in awe "You miss me too mama?"

That word—oh god, that word. Mama. It hits you like a chord strummed right through your ribs, makes you pussy clench, has your whole body aching. It wrecks you every time. The way he says it is like praise. Like a god damn title.

"Think I'm not always like this for you?"

He grins, its soft, not cocky, but maybe proud.

Pleased.

"You ruin me so easily," he says, voice low and worn. "Every fuckin' time."

"Joel," you whine, grinding your hips down toward his face.

He chuckles against you, then flattens his tongue, licking a long stripe right down your center, groaning when he tastes you. His lips wrap tight around your clit and he sucks, gentle at first—then firmer. He works you until your back arches and your hands are fisting the cusions.

He eats you like it's the first time, maybe like it might be the last. Like this is the only way he knows how to say thank you for staying.

You whimper, tilting your hips, thighs tightening around his neck.

"Baby, fuck--"

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs against you. "Give it to me. Let me take care of you."

Your whole body arches when he slips two fingers inside, curling them just right. It's too much, it's not enough. It's perfect.

"God damn, I love the way you sound when I got my mouth on you," he says. "Wanna feel you, c'mon, wanna feel you fall apart for me."

You come, mouth parted in a soundless cry, legs trembling, until his name pours out of your mouth like a broken hymn.

His pace doesn't falter; he doesn't stop. Just licks you through it, lets you ride it out on his tongue. Holding you still, taking everything you give.

When he finally rises from your thighs, his beard is glistening, his eyes are dark.

He kisses your belly, then higher. Then your lips, like he's giving it back to you. Your taste, your need, your surrender.

"Gonna let me love you right?" he asks, voice rasped. "Let me give you everything?"

"Yes, please, Joel--need it. Need you."

"Been thinkin' about this all night. You. The way you looked this morning with her in your arms." He crawls over top of you. "You were made to be a mama."

Your breath stutters, heart kicking.

"You know, you're real mean when you talk like that," you whisper.

He looks down at you, grinning as he tugs down his sweats. You watch as his cock springs free, thick, flushed and leaking.

"You sayin' it's a turn on?"

You nod, biting your lip.

He groans low in his throat, wrecked, and lines himself up. The head of his cock drags through your slick.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, watching your face the whole time. Eyes wide, mouth open in awe.

A moan is torn from you, loud, head falling back. He sinks in all the way, hips flush to yours now.

He stays still once he’s buried deep. His hands frame your face.

“I’ve never loved anything like I love this,” he says. “You. Her. Us.”

Your eyes sting. Your chest cracks open.

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

He starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that drag along every inch of you, rolling his hips into yours.

He grabs your hand and puts it over your belly with his. Pressing down right where you’re full of him.

“Wanna give you another one” he breathes. “Wanna keep fillin' our life with good things”

“Joel—”

He grabs your hips tighter, ruts harder, deeper. It doesn't feel like fucking. It feels like this is carving. This is memory. This is making something.

“You want that?” he asks, voice breaking. “You wanna give me another?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Fuck, yes.”

He slows down some, shallower, grinding against you, the head of his cock catching on your opening over and over driving you insane.

“Turn around,” Joel murmurs, he growls. “On your hands and knees, baby.”

You don’t argue. You don’t ask. You feel it in his voice—that threadbare edge, the way he’s holding back like it’s costing him something. And you want to take the leash off.

So you nod. Slow. Wordless.

And roll.

Every limb feels loose, useless, boneless from how hard he just made you come with his mouth, but you shift, dragging your trembling body onto your stomach, then pushing up to your knees.

Your arms buckle a little under you. Joel’s hands are there instantly, one bracing your hip, the other gliding up your spine.

“Easy, sweetheart. I got you.”

You arch for him, shuddering, and you hear the crack in his breath. The way he exhales, like it hurts. Like the sight of you like this just knocked the wind out of him.

“Goddamn. Look at you,” he whispers. “Still fuckin’ cryin’ for me.”

You whimper when his hand spreads you open, thumb brushing through your folds. You’re slick everywhere. Down your thighs. Pooling between them. The contact makes you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he says, almost like it’s a prayer. “All over my fuckin’ couch. That from me, mama?”

Your voice is ragged. “It’s all from you.”

That earns you a moan.

You hear the soft slap of him stroking himself, the wet sound of his cock in his palm. You arch a little deeper, offer him everything.

And then he’s there.

The head of his cock presses back to your entrance and you both gasp as he slides inside.

The stretch hits different from this angle. Sharper, meaner, fucking heavenly. He presses in all the way, to the hilt, hands locked tight on your waist.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “You feel like you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

You drop your head between your arms, mouth falling open. “I am, Joel.”

That makes him grunt. Low and rough.

He pulls back and thrusts in again, and it makes your knees slide an inch forward on the couch. Makes your voice break on a gasp.

The rhythm he sets is brutal—faster, deeper now. Dragging, grinding thrusts that punch the air from your lungs. “Still got more in you?” he pants, hand sliding up your back. You nod, forehead to the cushion. “As much as you want.”

His hand slides down again. Palms your ass. Spreads you wider.

“You said you wanted to feel it,” he murmurs. “Want me to make it count this time?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Joel.”

He leans in over your back, one hand dragging up your belly now, wet with sweat, with slick, with heat.

“Then take it, mama,” he growls in your ear. “Take all of it.”

The sound you make is wrecked. Raw, wordless.

The filth from his mouth has your head swimming.

“You feel that? That’s me. All of me. Still fuckin’ hard for you. You’re wringin’ me out, baby. You want another one so bad? I’ll give it to you. I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

You don’t even recognize your own voice when you sob, “Please—please don’t stop—I need you—”

He grabs your hips, both hands now, and drives into you so deep it’s like he’s trying to break you.

You cry out. Eyes wet. Skin burning.

He moans, broken.

“Gonna come—fuck, baby.”

“Do it,” you whisper. “I want it, Joel, I want all of it.”

That’s it. He breaks.

He slams in once, twice. Then groans loud, slurred and filthy as he buries himself deep and pours into you.

You feel it. Warm and thick. A slow bloom of heat that makes your whole body tremble.

He stays there, cock still pulsing, his breath ragged, his hands bruising your hips like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

You both collapse on the couch, spent, wrecked. Happy Neither of you moves for a long, long moment.

He lays a kiss between your shoulder blades. “I hope it sticks,” he breathes. You turn your head to look at him, eyes glassy but glowing. “It will,” you murmur. You guide his hand to your belly, covering it with yours. Anchor to anchor.

“Happy Father’s Day, baby.” Then,  from down the hall, soft and sudden. A cry.

Tiny, insistent, familiar.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat. He presses his forehead to your back. You feel his shoulders shake.

You whisper, “She knows.”

And he laughs, choked up and tear-wet. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, she does.”

[eclairemaire]

Meeting the Missus pt.3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Wife! Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: The Team finds out Bob is married and wants to meet the missus.

Warnings: Reader is described very similarly to Rhea Ripley, Reader and Bob are very much in love, No mention of Y/N used, Southern Reader (she's like all southern ladies sweet like iced tea, but can knock you on your ass if she has too), Express mentions of reader and Bob's Child, Lemme know if I missed any.

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes: This is the third part of 'Meeting the Missus'. I'm genuinely so surprised at how many of you are reading this; it makes my heart swoon. I hope everyone enjoys!

Heading to the cafeteria for lunch, as soon as Bob sits down, he’s surrounded by the rest of the squad. Phoenix on his right, Fanboy on the left, Rooster across from Bob, Hangman across from Phoenix, Payback across from Fanboy, and Coyote on the other side of Hangman. All of them leaning towards him as though they were high school kids waiting for the newest piece of gossip. Fanboy was almost completely pressed against Bob’s side as he started to unpack his leftovers from last night’s dinner.

“So are we going to get to try any of your Missus’ lovely food at this cookout that you mentioned yesterday?” Fanboy asked as he ogled the food that looked mouth-wateringly good. Bob hummed as he got up to reheat his food, like a pack of strays, the rest of the squad started to get up to follow him to the microwave.

“You will,” he said non-committedly as he put the food in the microwave and started it up. Looking up and seeing the team still surrounding him, he quirked up a brow, “Don’t y’all need to go get your own food?” Watching with an amused glint as the team seemed to realize they did not, in fact, have any food of their own to eat for lunch yet, and seemed to scatter to retrieve their respective meals.

Meeting back at their table, Bob was quietly typing on his phone and smiling fondly while waiting. Once everyone arrived, he stowed his phone into one of the pockets of his uniform. “Missus has decided that the cookout will be next Saturday, you will be expected to bring food or drink, you don’t have to bring both, but if you want to, you can to get in my wife's good graces.” He said after finishing the first bite of his lunch, letting out a low hum of satisfaction at the flavor.

“So what can we expect from this cookout? Will there be games? Any more munchkins besides yours?” Hangman asked as he started to dig into his food, Coyote nodding along beside him.

“Is it going to be similar to the one Riley talked about from when you were stationed at Lemoore?” Phoenix drew her attention to Bob as he thought of an answer to the questions.

Deciding to answer Hangman first, “There will be games, board games, and some digital. Maybe some dogfight football if we’re lucky. As for other kids, I’m not sure,” there might be some of Rileys friends, but that entirely depends on whether you wanted to host a sleepover, which wasn’t likely; your social battery would be pretty drained after having so many people over all day. “ We’ll likely be eating lunch around one-ish, do games for a little bit afterwards, then Riley’ll konk out for like an hour and a half for a nap, and then it’ll just be us adults for a while.” Turning to face Phoenix, he answers her question.

“Yes, and no, none of our relatives are going to be here this time, and her friends likely aren’t either. It’ll be the same in the sense that it’s essentially a party of sorts, but with y’all instead of our families.” He stated while continuing to eat his food.

“Ok, so for food, does anyone have any allergies that might have detrimental effects if said allergen is ingested?” Fanboy asked as he examined the group and turned back towards Bob. Nos and nope's flowed from everyone's mouths after pondering for a moment. “Great!” he exclaimed, shifting back towards his food.

“Sounds like we’ve all got an idea what to expect. What time should we be there?” Rooster asked.

“Shoot for around 12:30, that way Missus can have a time to have everything fresh and hot to go,” Bob stated. 

After that conversation flowed as usual, talking about drills and other happenings going on throughout the base, and the day continued. 

Before leaving, Maverick pulled Bob aside, “What’s this I hear about a cookout?” he inquires as he looks at Bob with curiosity.

“Oh,” Bob fumbles briefly, “My wife and I are hosting a cookout next weekend, and we invited the squad over. Are you interested in coming as well, Mav?” Bob asks, while twiddling his thumbs behind his back at the sudden inquiry about personal plans.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to meet your wife, whom I’ve heard so much about from Penny. Is Amelia welcome to come as well?” He asks as he looks at Bob’s face. Bob relaxes, remembering that you get along quite well with Penny and have been mentioning wanting to introduce her to Riley

“That sounds like a good idea, sir. I’ll make sure to let her know that you all are coming as well.” Turning to leave, Bob remembers that he needs to tell Maverick to bring food or a drink. “Sir, please, bring a drink or food dish with you, otherwise my wife may not let you into our home.” He smiles sheepishly before heading to the parking lot. Once in his car, he messages everyone your home address and the date and time to be there. 

~

Arriving home followed a similar fashion as the day before, Bob was greeted first by Nuggs, who was eagerly awaiting pats, before almost being bulldozed by your second dog, Beans, who was significantly larger than Nuggs. Followed by a “Welcome home, Sweetheart,” being shouted from the direction of the kitchen. 

“We’re still making dinner,” you say as Bob enters the kitchen to see you sprinkling cheese over a pizza. “How was work?” you ask as you grab the pizza stone to put it into the oven. Riley runs over to Bob and gives his legs a squeeze and a big grin at him before going into the living room, where he then proceeds to hear the opening of ‘Magic School Bus’ play in the background.

“Good, everyone has a vague idea of what to expect for next Saturday,” He says, coming up behind you and wrapping you up in his arms, and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Mavrick heard about the cookout, I’m assuming Hangman and Rooseter were talking about it in the hangar,” He mumbles into your hair, as you hum as a response and turn to start cleaning up the kitchen while you wait for the pizza to cook, Bob clining to you like a koala all the way.

“Is he coming?” You ask as you continue to maneuver around the kitchen.

“Yeah, he asked if he, Penny, and Amelia could come. I told him yes, I figured you’d likely hear from Penny about what she plans on bringing,” he answered.

“Amelia's coming? That’s good, I wanted to meet her soon, plus I think she and Riley would get along quite well.” You finally finished cleaning up. Spinning around in Bob’s hold to lean him against the counter. You give him a kiss and a sweet smile.

“What do you plan on making for the cookout?” He asks, there's a teasing smile on his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle just around the edges.

“You’ll find out with everyone else.” You giggle as he starts to pout just a little bit.

“But I’m your husband!” He squawks indignantly, starting to gain a flush in his cheeks.

“And you’ll find out with everyone else,” giving him a mischievous smile, as reach your hands around him to place them right below his ass, and with a firm grip you hoist him up and over your shoulder and start to head to the living room where your daughter resides. 

He lets out a harrumph and then proceeds to yell, “Riley, come save me! I’ve been captured by your mama!” Entering the living room, you hear a squeal from Riley followed by uncontrolled giggles, as she sees you with Bob slung over your shoulder.

“Da–Dad–Daddy,” giggles, interrupting her as she tried to speak, “I can’t help you, Mama’s too strong!”

“You Traitor!!” He yells in false devastation as he feigns going limp in your hold.

a/n: I swear we will actually get to the cookout in the next part, but I'm a sucker for buildup and domestic family fluff. Thank you for reading, and see you in the next part!!

[theegyal]

When I Was Your Man [ Annie x Smoke ] + 18

⚠️: Smut, Nasty, Peeping Tom, Betrayal, Manipulation, Prostitution, Alcohol Abuse.

2.5 K words

Part 3

Recap :

"You still talk to Crystal?" the older asked.

"Hol' on! You ain't goin' to smash Crys' lil cookie, right?" Stack shot back, straightening up. "Poor thing-Smokey finally resolves to visit her bootyhole only to spit on Annie"

Smoke rolled his eyes, lighting his cigarette, uncaring of the big NO SMOKING sign on the wall.

"She still workin'?" he asked, exhaling a grey cloud off his lips.

Stack's brown eyes blinked once, twice,

Smoke crooked a smile, a gleam dancing in his eyes.

"Tell ha to come by the juke tonight."

Guitar and piano blues, Pearline voice. Music buzzed from the Juke joint, thrilling and loudly.

Folks were dancing, newlyweds grinding skin to skin, some drunkard arguing with the bartender about the alcohol price.

The singer's pitch note announced the twins arrival. Smoke stepped in the sweaty barn, a woman creeping at his arm. A straight face, no more than what he wanted to show. Stack was off in the corner, talking to Crystal, laying out the creepy-ass plan Smoke cooked up to win Annie back.

"Nigga, y'all done lost it fa real," The hooker hissed, arranging the pin in her updo hairstyle "What she s'posed to do, huh? Sit round waitin' damn seven years? Shit, I'da been bent over 'fore the first month, baby."

She clicked her tongue. "Chii—anyways, how much?"

"Now we talkin'!" Stack grinned. "Eighty if you kiss 'im, hunnid-fifty if Annie catch y'all red-handed."

He peeled the bills slow, letting her see every last one. "Real-ass dollars, sugar."

Crystal eyes lit up, her mouth curling into a mean little grin.

"Mmmhmm, love it when we speakin' same language," she purred, snatching  the bills like she been waiting on them all week.

"Shit, I'll ride nigga two times slow 'til that girl lose her mind."

She shoved the cash down her chest, gave it a lil tap."Tell Smokey we got a deal."

The trap had been set, it waited for Annie and new boo to come. Twos can play the same game and Stack couldn't tell which one would win.

"As the time we arrived, the show would be over."

"Good. 'Cause I ain't wanted to go anyway." She said.

Anders caught his girlfriend's wrist, dragging her to his truck, deaf to her complaints.

From miles away, they could hear the blues resonating across the landscape. Annie tapped her foot, swaying her hips on the hard truck seat.

"So you wanted to go after all."

They both laughed. Anders parked close to the barn. They stepped out the engine and walked toward the juke joint's entry, the ground humming beneath them with bass and footsteps.

"Hey, Cornbread," Annie threw gently to the grizzly shaped man.

"Annie," he greeted. "Sir." He tipped his hat to Anders. "Y'all come on in."

Inside, Annie's stomach flipped. She felt anxious. She wasn't the funny one at parties, especially not tonight. Not with her ex posted up across the room, smiling like a fox with a stolen prize. Her eyes stuck to him longer than she meant.

Smoke was parading with a fucking hussy, puffin on his cigarette, a hand sliding snug around that ragtime queen's waist.

The girl was pretty enough to match him—Annie couldn't lie about that : tall, thick-waisted with a petite yet round, swaying backside, brown skin oiled and catching every lick of the barn candlelight. Those greenish eyes of hers, clung to him, hanging on his every damn word.

Annie felt a knot in her stomach, twisting so hard it made her breath hitched. 'A damn frivolous man, he sure had a change of taste. Guess plain ol' me don't shine no more'

She shifted her weight on Anders, arms folded tight across her chest, pretending like she didn't see Smoke lean in and whisper something low in the girl's ear. Whatever it was, it made her giggle and dip her head, all coy and sweet.

Hell, she the one who taught him how to be loving. How to be tender. Now here he was, pouring it out like cheap gin on some wide-eyed bitch wearing too much gloss and not enough shame.

Smoke lifted his gaze and caught Annie's grimacing face.

The effect of his little surprise landed hard, knocking the wind right out her gut. Annie was standing exactly where he wanted her to be.

Yes, twos can definitely play the same game. Her bastard gigolo disrespected him when he dared to open that damn door pant unbuttoned. Worst thing ? She didn't even let him in. He was the fucking father of her child and she belittled him in front of that piece of shit.

Were they over ? If so, he had every right to pull any woman he desired.

Anders said something above his girlfriend shoulders, some joke maybe. Well, Annie missed it entirely. She gave a laugh on delay out of politeness.

Embarrassed, the lumberjack went out. He had in fact told her that he needed a cigarette but didn't feel comfortable smoking inside. Anyway, Annie was too busy with her thoughts to pay attention.

He walked for minutes, away from the juke's ruckus, sat on a bench then lit his cigarette, the tip flaring orange , then fading.

"You always look that tense when you smokin', or just tonight?"

The voice slid in, smooth and spicy. Anders turned his eyes on the newcomer : A big black woman, mature and alluring. Her busty chest hanging two fat rounded yet saggy boobs—not those of grandmas, more the kind to bounce back and forth between every thrust . Her curled, ginger-colored hair stylized in a updo gave her that southern touch Anders had always been weak for.

Her wide hips danced left and right as she walked toward him. Anders could only fantasized of that meaty ol' country ass she dragged behind her. He had been in that town too long to not recognize a back-alley whore.

"Ain't got no pennies for ya ma'am"

Sure, she was delicious to watch but he didn't want no smoke with his lady.

"This night free for you sugar"

She sat beside him, the ruby dress hugging her voluptuous breasts, dipping low in the front with an indecent cleavage.

She crossed her legs, heels clicking in the muddy dirt. She was there to be picked, and Anders might not have the strength to resist her tricks.

Inside the roadhouse, Annie was still planted at the bar—right where Andy had left her. She had lost count of how many glasses of corn liquor she'd drunk.

That motherfucker... she told him she ain't even wanna come to this stupid-ass party.

And now? He was gone. Boof—disappeared from her sight.

"Shit," she cursed, pushing herself up from the stool with effort, legs wobbling beneath her.

Annie was determined to find her way out of this juke joint. She wasn't about to sit there and play along with Smoke's little soap opera.

He wanted to fuck that tramp's cooch? God bless his precious johnson, she didn't give a shit.

Lord, he really thought she'd be jealous of the way he slid that big hand down ol' girl's spine? Or the way he kissed her neck, shameless, right there in front of everybody?

"Good for him," she mumbled under her breath. "Hope she drained him. And not only his dick," she said bitterly between three hiccups.

Alcohol was teasing Annie's system as she dragged herself along the juke's wooden walls. Her drunkard steps led her through a smoky hall to a room threshold.

Yellow lights flashed, blinding her sight then lewd sounds made their way to her ears: moans, groans, bed creaking, thighs slapping, wet and lecherous.

"Do it for daddy."

A husky voice she recognized. She spent so many years hearing it—how could she forget? No...no. Annie didn't want to believe it.

It was true she wished for him to go to hell. She wished for that juke joint mattress to drain him and leave.

But...no ? He was a bastard, a fucking piece of shit... certainly not to that extent?

Not when he knew she was still around?

She blinked hard, trying to focus, to believe her ears were tricking.

Slowly, with bones now trembling, Annie reached for the doorframe, her heart pounding faster than her lazy steps.

She leaned on the dirty window and saw them:

Smoke,bare-chested sitting back against the headboard, legs spread wide—facing her like he knew she'd come looking.

Between his thighs, that butter-toned girl was bent on all fours, ass up, knees stretched so far apart her pussy lips gaped on their own.

He had a tight grip on her curly hair, yanking her head back as she sucked his fat, veiny dick with her wet mouth, slobber running down her chin, spit stringing from his tip to her tongue like she was starving for every inch. She went deep, throat choking on him, then dropped lower to eat his heavy balls.

Smoke never broke eye contact. He didn't flinch, he just stared at Annie, making sure she enjoyed the show.

His gaze lingering at the hoo-doo woman in the window, he let go of the pecan skinned girl's hair and gripped her soft, petite cheeks, spread her ass, squeezed, slapped them together until her flesh jiggled and the wet claps burst through the walls.

The girl bucked, belly shaking, her moans muffled by the huge dick still stretching her mouth.

Smoke wasn't done. He did it again, rougher this time. He pulled her pussy open with both thumbs until they popped apart, cream and juice spilling out with a sloppy, squelching noise.

The girl's swollen clit throbbed, and her pinky inside were all thrown at Annie face.

She was gushing for him.

And Smoke wanted Annie to see all of it.

Wanted her to suffer.

His message, clear as day were written deep in his eyes :

"You see this nasty bitch?"

"You see how wet she is for me?"

"That's what a real man do, babe."

Without understanding her own body, she turned into a damn peeping tom.

Annie's hand clutched the window frame like it could anchor her to sanity, but the heat between her legs said otherwise. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her big tits brushing together with each breath. Her nostrils flared,eyes wide, and locked on the filth playing out in front of her.

That heifer's cookie was too hot. Stretched open and leaking sauce. So wet, Annie had the sick,shameful urge to drop down and taste it.

She should've walked away.

Should've kicked the damn door down and snatched that bitch by the scalp.

But all she did was watching, breathing heavy, her moist thighs unconsciously pressing together.

Her brown roundish nipples hardened under her dress, swollen and aching. Let not speak about her panties. Her fat pussy was drowning in its own mess, throbbing with need and disgust all at once.

And Smoke knew it.

That bastard knew it.

He didn't smile. Didn't smirk.

Just kept glaring at her with that same hooded stare, like she was the one getting fucked.

Then, he shift the obscenity to another angle. He released his dick from the girl’s mouth, stood up across the bed, spat on his hand and dragged it down her gaping cunt.

Annie saw it all. Saw the thick shine of spit smear across those glossy lips before he shoved back in, all the way.

The girl's ass bounced back, jiggling from the thrust before squirting on the sheets.

Annie let out a ragged breath she didn't even know she was holding.

One hand slid to her belly, then lower, hovering just above her underwear.

She almost touched herself.

Almost.

Angry, she mouthed "Fuck you", then fled the scene.

"Where the fuck that nigga at?!" she snapped, now completely sobered up, her shoes slamming angrily against the juke joint's wooden floor.

She'd had enough. Her blood was boiling and her chest was tight, she needed to release all that heat.

"Anders!" she shouted, veins crawling up her temple. Annie was so wrapped up in fury, she didn't even see Stack coming. She bumped straight into him.

"Oof! That's eighty dollars in damages, ma'am," he joked, rubbing his chest like she broke a rib.

Annie rolled her eyes. "You seen Anders?"

Stack straightened his posture with mock formality. "Oh? That gentleman? Last I saw, he was headed toward the storeroom, just behind the band's stage."

"Thank you," she said flatly, smacking his shoulder.

"You're very welcome, my lady," Stack grinned, a little too pleased. He knew exactly what she was about to find out back there.

He kept walking, whistling low under his breath, until he passed the room where his brother was busy handling his sexy business.

Smoke's numb voice cut through the air: "Stack."

Stack doubled back and stepped in. The room smelled : pussy, sweat, semen, ass, all mixed up in the air. The girl on the bed was still squirming, eyes wild, her tongue hot, her pussy glistening and breathless.

"Hold on, what? You just gon' leave me hangin' like that?" she moaned, voice sticky.

Stack blinked, confused. "What the hell ?"

Smoke leaned in close, always wearing his unreadable mask. "Handle that for me," he murmured in his ear, then slid past him, walking out without another word.

"Damn," Stack muttered, watching him go. "Usually I'm the messy one..."

He turned back toward the girl, still all four knees on the wet bed.

He took off his red hat, tossed it aside, and sat down next to her.

"Alright, alright, listen sweetheart. I know you mad," he said, trying to soothe her. "But everything okay."

He leaned in, eyebrows raised. "You can put your clothes on and go... or—"

His eyes slid slow down her body.

"You can stay right here and play with the funnier twin."

The girl looked at him up and down, he wasn't that different from Smoke. Weird, she never knew he was twins. Moreover, his brother seemed happier than him.

"And what kind of game you wanna play ?"

Sigh. Stack succeeded with all points.

On the dance floor, Annie made her way through the crowd. She passed the bandstand, ducked behind a hanging curtain, and slipped into the dim, narrow hallway that led to the storeroom.

The further she walked, the quieter it got. Just the bassline of the music humming behind her, drowned out by a different kind of rhythm.

A thudding. Wet. Repetitive. Followed by a low moan.

Annie stopped. Her brows furrowed. Then she stepped forward. The storeroom door wasn't closed all the way.

She pushed it open with the tip of her fingers and witnessed another nightmare.

Anders, behind a curvy ol' country slut. His pants hanging off his, hands locked tight on her wide waist. He was hunched over her back, fucking her meat, raw from behind with rough thrusts.

He grunted, hips slapping against her BBW' ass cheeks, his breath ragged. "Fuck bitch, yo pussy damn good," he growled, head thrown back.

Crystal arched into it, one leg lifted, giving him more of her cake. "Mmm yass boy. Beat mommy pussy up," she purred

Annie stopped thinking straight. Couldn't move. The sensation was different from earlier when she busted Smoke out with his girlie. Now, she felt murderous.

Her mouth hung open, and the whole world went silent around her. Her heart was beating hard in her ears, but her body just froze. Her throat tightened with the sting of disbelief.

He wasn’t even using a condom.

He ain't even look sorry.

And then—he did. His eyes glanced up and he saw her.

"Annie—baby—" he tried desperately to explain. But Annie didn't speak. Didn't even scream.

All she did was staring at the man she came with, buried balls-deep in a full STD's bag.

He was still inside her. Still hard.

She spat hard on the floor, then disappeared. Her heels singing louder than the bass back in the barn.

Tag list per request :

@jasssdee1 , @katezy2x ,

Tag list from Hush :

I took this tag list from my other fluffy angsty serie HUSH, if you want to be removed just tell me friends ❤️

@thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @Ib-xci @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72 @forzaferrariii , @blxckberrie @avidreader73 @partylikemajima @lolalikesgames @ultralspblr @post-woke @jasssdee1 @lizbehave @kindofaintrovert

A/N : I wanna thank Google for the vocabulary, @uzumaki-rebellion cause it’s literally their stories that inspired me doing smut and less angst 🤣. AND obviously thank youpor— I mean YouTube for the visual inspiration 🙂‍↔️

BTW I LIED Y’ALL I’M NO GOOD AT DOING ONE SHOT STORY

😭. So this one will prolly end up in 5 parts not 3 🤓. Forgive me

[iitslera]

mon petit monde ✶ CL16

english isn’t my first language, just fluff here 

                               ──  ✦  ──

The sunlight filters through the apartment curtains, painting golden rays across the room. Beside you, Charles is still asleep, his hair tousled and one hand stretched out toward you, as if even in sleep he needs to make sure you're still there.

But what really wakes him is the high-pitched little voice coming from the hallway. “Daaaddyyyy,” she says, dragging out the last syllable. “Daddy, wake up!” The door creaks open slightly, and there she is. Jules. Wearing her Ferrari pajamas, her curls a messy halo around her face, and holding her favorite stuffed toy—the one Charles bought her the day she was born. Her face is glowing with excitement, and in her tiny hands she carries a folded piece of paper.

“It’s your day!” she yells, running toward the bed.Charles opens his eyes just in time to catch her as she throws herself onto him. Their laughter fills the room. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Yes! Because you're the best daddy in the world!” Jules answers confidently, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

You sit on the other side of the bed, watching them. And there's something in the way Charles looks at her—like he can’t quite believe he ever lived without her—that tightens your chest with tenderness.“Did you make this?” he asks, pointing at the drawing still clutched in her small hand. She nods proudly. “It’s mommy, Leo, you, and me… with your red car!” she explains. Charles throws you an amused glance, and you shrug.

“Why don’t we let daddy get ready while we prepare breakfast?” you suggest, and Jules doesn’t hesitate for a second to agree. Soon, the apartment is filled with the smell of pancakes, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon. Jules watches you from her highchair, picking at some fruit while coloring a new drawing. “Is this a Ferrari?” Charles asks once he joins you both in the kitchen. “No! It’s a McLaren!” she yells, and the two of you burst into laughter. When breakfast is over, you lift Jules from her chair to help her down, but not before leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

At first, she listens very seriously, her little hands on your shoulders—and then nods with the same kind of enthusiasm she has when you offer her ice cream. She hops down clumsily, laughter sparkling in her eyes, and runs down the hallway with those still-awkward, wobbly steps she hasn’t quite mastered yet.

Charles watches her disappear, then turns to you. He walks over with that soft expression only you know. It’s not the face of the racer or the idol—it’s the face of a man who has learned to love with patience and to live more gently since becoming a father.

He kisses you slowly. His lips on yours, warm. Real. “Thank you for making me a dad. Thank you for her.”

You’re quiet for a second. Because those words—so simple, so true—hit you right in the center of your chest. You smile, because you know—without a shadow of a doubt—that no trophy, no circuit, no win will ever compare to the love he feels for the little girl with the clear eyes who calls him "daddy."

And then, she returns.

Jules appears carrying a box wrapped in red paper printed with tiny Ferrari race cars. She stumbles a little under the weight but refuses any help. She places it on the table with a triumphant, “Ta-daaaa!” that makes her giggle at herself. “It’s for you, daddy,” she says in a tiny voice, like it’s a very important secret. Charles sits, intrigued, and begins unwrapping the gift carefully. He lifts the lid, and the first thing he sees is a photo—you, holding a pregnancy test. Your eyes swollen from crying—happy tears, fearful ones, all of it. Beneath it, there’s more. A thick photo album, bound in soft leather. He opens it.

First page: the blurry image of an ultrasound. Then, him with his hands on your belly, mentally rehearsing how he’d tell the world he was going to be a father. A handwritten letter from you, your handwriting just a little shaky: "From that day on, I wasn’t sure whether you were more in love with me… or with the baby."

There are photos of him attending ultrasounds—even if just over video call��of sleepless nights assembling her crib, of the first time he held her, eyes filled with tears. An entire page is dedicated to his first podium after becoming a dad. The note you stuck to the steering wheel before the race read: “Your daughter is racing today, too.” Charles flips through the album slowly. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. And when he reaches the last page—a recent photo of the three of you, lying in bed, Jules asleep across his chest between you— a silent tear escapes him.

“You were always there,” you say softly, your fingers tracing the back of his neck. “Even when you thought you weren’t. You were always there, Charles.” He closes the album carefully, like he’s protecting something sacred.

“Thank you for reminding me.” And when Jules climbs back onto his lap, he holds her like the entire world fits in his arms. And honestly—it does.

[punksyeet]

- Heart & Sole 5 ❥

Plot: You know what they say: third time’s the charm!

Warnings: Hefty flirting, romance, & tooth rotting fluff!

A/N: gahhh our champion :( i miss his reign already 💔💔 anywho, welcome to the fifth part of h&s! this will, indeed, conclude my first ever mini series. thank you to everyone who’s supported / inspired me to keep it going. ily all and i can’t wait to (hopefully) make another one soon. enjoy! <3

previous chapter! <3

———————————————————————————————

i take a deep breath, scrunching my curls in the mirror.

today was perfect.

way smoother than i ever thought it would go.

my nerves were god awful but everyone was so welcoming.

the wives? beyond sweet. i even got both of their numbers for a future girl’s day.

trin? made me forget about all my worries, as always. she’s my bestie for a reason!

all the cousins? i didn’t get to talk to them much, but i could tell they approved of me right away.

and josh’s mom? absolutely amazing. and an insane cook.

going into today i thought i’d feel like an outsider, but that wasn’t the case. and i’m so grateful.

i pull out one of the many tubes of lip gloss in my bag and add a couple of layers, making sure to brush away any smudges.

once satisfied with my reflection, i wash my hands and head back outside.

on my way back to the kitchen, i hear light mumbling.

clear enough to know that it’s josh and his mom, but too muffled to understand what they’re saying.

and when i walk in, talisua’s eyes light up.

josh notices her change in expression and turns around, a warm smile immediately appearing on his face when our eyes meet.

i smile back, walking up to josh’s island stool.

“you ready to go, ma?” he asks, placing a warm hand on my lower back.

i nod, smiling and turn to his mom. “thank you again for having me.”

she smiles and shuffles over, embracing me. “you’re always welcome, honey. it was so nice meeting you.”

i chuckle, hugging back. “you too.”

she pulls away and smiles, looking up at josh.

he pulls away from me to embrace her, and i watch on smiling.

“thank you for everything ma,” he says, before kissing her temple.

she leans up to cup and kiss his cheek. “always, my love.”

i don’t miss the light whispering she does in his ear before they pull away.

josh takes my hand. “let’s roll, baby.”

“get home safe!” his mom calls from the doorway as we head to his car.

“we will!” he calls back.

the car ride home is quiet.

not in an awkward way, but more so comforting.

the type of quiet where you’re mentally reflecting on the incredible day you just had. and even when it’s about to, you don’t want it to end.

when we finally pull up to my place, the sound of the engine cutting off takes over.

josh shifts in his seat to turn to me and brush a loose curl out of my face.

“i’m happy you had a good time today,” he finally says, stroking my cheek with his knuckle.

i smile, leaning into his touch with a nod. “i did.”

he smiles back, licking his lips before speaking again.

“my mother don’t usually warm up to people right away,” he explains. “but you….you’re different, baby.”

i blush, chewing on my lower lip. “different how?”

he watches my lips for a while before looking back up into my eyes and getting lost in them all over again. “it’s your aura. the way you carry yourself. you’re so likable, ma. i don’t know how to explain it. but it’s the first thing i liked about you.”

“well,” i reply, turning my body towards him and laying my head comfortably on the headrest. “i could say the same thing about you, mr. main event.”

he smirks. “thas how you feel, huh?”

i roll my eyes playfully, smirking. “it’s how the whole world feels, goofy. you’re confident, sexy, selfless….what’s not to like?”

he raises an eyebrow. “sexy, huh?”

my breathing hitches and i immediately start mentally facepalming myself.

“i-uh…” i stutter, making his smirk widen. “i guess i was just…”

“hey,” he cuts me off, taking my hand and kissing the top of it. “no need to be nervous around me, mama.”

“kinda hard not to be when you look like….that.”

he chuckles, licking his lower lip again. “you’re somethin’ else, girl.”

i smile, looking down at our hands and intertwining our fingers.

the quiet sound of crickets chirping outside takes over, setting the mood.

“well,” i finally announce, unbuckling my seatbelt. “it’s getting late. i should probably head in.”

he nods, watching me.

“thank you again for today,” i continue, reaching over the middle console to hug him.

he huge back, stroking my lower back, his hands brushing my ass teasingly. “anytime, ma. i’m happy you came.”

i smile, resting my chin on his shoulder and inhaling his scent.

and when we finally pull away, the entire mood changes.

not for the worse - god not for the worse at all.

but it’s something i can’t quite put my finger on.

deciding not to discover what that is tonight, i quickly shake the feeling off.

“goodnight,” i whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek and opening the passenger door.

he grabs ahold of my wrist, ever so gently. “where you goin?”

i turn around and blink in response. “inside?”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “you forgot somethin, baby. cmere.”

and before i can even process what’s happening, his lips are on mine.

finally.

i deepen the kiss, tangling my fingers in his curls.

he lets out a low groan before wrapping his arms tighter around me. like i’m a ghost that’ll just disappear any second now.

when we finally pull away, i instantly miss the feeling of him.

i let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through my curls. “woah.”

“sorry,” he apologizes, running a hand down his face. “i been tryna kiss them things all day.”

i giggle, letting out a deep breath shortly after. “yeah, you’re telling me. and for once jon wasn-“

and as if on cue, his phone rings.

my jaw drops as he looks at me with “holy shit” written all over his eyes.

“there’s no way,” i mutter, watching him pick up his phone from the dashboard.

he turns the screen my way and it reads one word: Jon.

“you handle that how you will,” i announce, making a shoo motion with my hand, turning towards the door again.

he laughs and pulls me back, kissing me again.

i kiss back, laughing as we pull away.

“nite baby,” he mutters, giving me one last peck.

he stops in his tracks for a minute, before speaking up again. “i love you.”

my heart drops. “i-i love you too.”

and fuck. i really do.

he instantly smiles and cups my face, placing a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

i smile back before heading out of the car, closing the door behind me.

“call me!” he calls out the window as i’m walking up the pathway to my front door.

“i will!” i call back over my shoulder.

his engine starts up again and he pulls away from the curb.

as he goes to turn the corner, his horn blows two quick beeps.

i wave until he’s out of sight.

a sudden gust of wind blows, resulting in me hurrying to unlock the door and rush inside.

and once i’m there, i lock the door, press my back against it, and just look up.

josh fatu loves me. and i love him.

my heart and sole.

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[mcrdvcks]

congratulations on 2k!!! 💐💕

logan always seem like a giver, i wonder how he'd react having a significant other who adamantly takes care of him? maybe not in the same way he takes care of others, but in small, soft ways?

logan is the type of person who says he's "not a hero" yet his actions consistently proves his words are lies. same with him saying that he's "not a good person." like?? you protected rogue and were willing to sacrifice your life for a teenage girl you just met?

anyways, this is a bit short, but i hope you enjoy it!

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: established relationship, soft!logan, fluff

Logan’s not used to being taken care of. He’s the one who patches people up, does the heavy lifting, and quietly steps between others and danger. It’s instinct. Automatic.

So when you start doing it—bringing him water after a mission, setting out fresh clothes without a word, making sure the heater’s on when his joints are stiff—he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

He notices immediately, though. You fold his laundry the way he likes. You learn how he takes his coffee without asking. You remember he sleeps better when there's rain sounds playing. It makes him blink, still and quiet, like he's not sure how he earned it.

He tries to wave it off at first. “Don’t fuss,” he grumbles, even as he lets you rub tiger balm on his shoulder. But the way his eyes flutter shut? The soft noise he makes when your fingers find a sore spot? He loves it.

The first time you run your fingers through his hair to help him sleep, he jerks like he’s been shocked. Then he goes completely quiet. Eyes closed. Breathing even. Gone.

You always have something warm waiting when he comes back from patrol. You leave his boots near the heater when it’s snowing. You slip a protein bar into his jacket pocket when you think he’s skipped lunch.

He’s rough around the edges, but the first time you kiss the scars on his knuckles instead of commenting on them, he stares at you like you’ve just spoken another language. Doesn’t say a word. Just pulls you in and breathes you in like a prayer.

He’s weirdly flustered by quiet affection. You press a kiss to his temple. He grunts. Looks away. But later, you find him still touching the spot absentmindedly like it’s some kind of talisman.

He starts catching himself checking for you in every room. Not to protect you—though that’s always there—but just… looking. For your presence. For your little rituals. The cup of tea cooling by the window. The folded towel left for him by the shower. The way your hand finds his wrist and squeezes once when you pass him in the hall.

He keeps trying to repay every act of care tenfold. You bring him soup when he’s sore? He chops wood for two hours. You tidy his flannel drawer? He fixes the leaky sink in your bathroom before you notice it’s dripping. (You have to sit him down and explain that it’s not a competition. That taking care of him isn’t a job. It’s love.)

He has to learn how to receive. He’s not used to the idea that someone would choose to take care of him, without expecting him to carry it all. So he fights it at first. Shifts his weight, changes the subject, mutters “m’fine.” But you keep showing up. Keep being steady. And eventually, he starts to believe it.

When you run errands, you always come back with something small for him. A new bar of the soap he likes. A snack he thought no one remembered he liked. “Thought you said you weren’t one for soft stuff,” he teases. ���I’m not. I’m just nosy,” you reply. But you both know it’s love.

You started rubbing lotion into his knuckles one night without saying a word. He sat there completely frozen like a bear being tamed by the gentlest trap. Didn’t say anything, just stared at your hands and thought about kissing them. He did, later.

[hey-itsdollie]

Helloooooo, I really liked the cake fic. Could you do it with Yoichi, Kunigami, Otoya, Yukimiya, Karasu and Oliver? Thank you so much and I love you. Kisses.

You got some flour on your face

ofc! I hope you enjoy mwah<3

‧₊˚ ┊ Blue Lock boys with s/o that cooks/bakes!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » isagi. kunigami. otoya. yukimiya. karasu. oliver.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, female reader, might be a lil suggestive, use of pet names, established relationships!, aged up!

Part 1, Part 2 -u are here!-

── .✦ Yoichi Isagi

“So what do you want me to make?” You asked, pulling your boyfriend into the kitchen excitedly. Isagi tilted his head with a soft smile—“Uhm how about some croissants?” He suggested watching you nod. “Chocolate or glazed?” 

The male’s mouth watered from thinking about the pastries. “How about both?” He finally stated making you laugh, “Don’t be greedy Yoichi.”

Your boyfriend scoffed as he moved to help you grab the bowls and pans you would need. At the same time you grabbed the ingredients, making sure you had enough supply to make the batter for the croissants.

“You know you don’t have to help me? Didn’t you want to get some more practice before your match this weekend?” You questioned raising your eyebrow towards Isagi, who had already gotten flour on his nose.

Leading to you walking closer to him and wiping the mess off his face.

With a blush the male backed up and wiped his nose again due to it becoming itchy. “I can spare a night– I wanna spend time with you…” He murmured, looping his arms around your waist.

Leaning back into his chest you let out a soft content breath. “Alright, can you crack some eggs for me? Remember no shells.”

Raising his hand to salute, Isagi went over to the tray of eggs and began to crack them into a separate bowl.

You watched him for a few seconds before prepping your own part of the cooking.

Once the two of you had placed the pastries into the oven the both of you began cleaning up the mess you created. Isagi, after cleaning, relaxed on the couch lazilly welcoming you over to him.

He opened his arms as you climbed onto his lap, hugging him close as the two of you just breathed in each other’s scents. “So glad I didn’t choose practice over this.”

Humming you pulled back from your place against his shoulder. “You know I’ll have to go and check on the croissants right?”

“Yeah, but stay like this until then.” He groaned, pulling you closer against him, in which you melted into his touch once more.

── .✦ Rensuke Kunigami

After a long winter, you and your boyfriend were quick to leave the house on the first warm day of the season. Packing a picnic basket pull of hand sandwiches and pastries. A blanket to sit on and Kunigami also brought a football to use at the park.

You sat on the blanket smiling as you watched your boyfriend do tricks with the football, clapping if he did something cool.

Deciding to take a break Kunigami came and joined you on the blanket. “What’d you pack for us?” He asked his eyes gazing from you to the basket. Mindlessly moving his hands into the basket to dig out the first thing he’d find.

Laughing you swat his hand away, sitting up on your knees as you opened the basket and pulled out the drinks and snacks you brought. “Sweet or snacks first?” You questioned looking at him with a toothy grin, which made Kunigami’s heart melt.

“Uhm, sweet.” The male watched as his girlfriend pulled out a wrapped pastry–placing it before him on a plate.

“I tried making cream puffs–hopefully they’re good.”

The ginger was quick to unwrap the pastry and took a bite out of it. Humming at the taste of the sweet cream you professionally placed inside the pastry.

“Is that a good hum or a bad hum?” You asked leaning forward as Kunigami glanced at you. “It’s delicious, do you have more?”

Nodding you pulled out a few more wrapped pastries. Kunigami smirks at the sight, internally thanking any supernatural being for gifting you to him.

“You have to eat one of the sandwiches though, not just the pastries.” You scolded knowing how he could get. Rolling his eyes, Kunigami agreed–completely planning on not listening to you. 

── .✦ Eita Otoya

“Eita! Stop!.” You laughed as your boyfriend grabbe you from behind and smeared frosting across your face. The exact frosting the two of you–mainly you–made for the cake you were currently trying to decorate.

“Oh come on! It’s just a little bit of cream–normally you like getting my-” You groaned, pushing him away, easily getting frosting on his face. “Damnit.”

You laughed as you wiped the cream off your face, going back to decorating the cake as the white-haired male went to wash his precious face.

“You’re so not cool.” Otoya scoffed sitting up on the counter causing you to roll your eyes. “If I’m not cool, that just makes you a loser.”

“I am not a loser!”

Turning you watched your boyfriend huff and cross his arms over his chest. “Oh great, my girlfriend is laughing at me.” He groaned, leaning his head back. “You make it hard not to sometimes.” You say innocently.

Otoya stayed quiet trying hard to keep his frown on his face as you cut a slice of cake for him. Bringing it to him as you grinned. “It looks half decent.”

“Half decent? It looks amazing!” Otoya’s mood changed quickly as he snatched the plate from you and placed a piece into his mouth moaning in content.

You laughed, shaking your head at the sight of your boyfriend. Turning around, you cut your own slice of cake to see if it was just as delicious as Otoya was making it out to be.

── .✦ Kenyu Yukimiya

Yukimiya had just gotten home after a modeling gig, hanging his coat up on the coat rack. As he smelled the familiar smell of your cooking. A small grin growing on his spotless features while he moved to the kitchen.

Immediately placing his attention on you in your apron while holding a loaf of what he could only say was lemon blueberry bread.

“Oh Kenyu, welcome home.” You smiled, placing the tray down and going to give him a hug. Yukimiya welcomed you with open arms as he pulled you close, not even caring about the apron you were wearing.

“How was the shoot?” You asked gazing up at him as he hummed, his eyes trailing all over your features as if there were new details he never noticed.

“It was alright, just the normal college practice shoot.” He replied calmly.

With a hum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the baby hairs at the end of his nape.

“Are your new glasses helping?”

The brunette looked to the side trying to think of an answer before agreeing with you. “Yeah, helping as much as they can at least.”

“I’m glad- Oh right! I made a lemon blueberry loaf, want a slice?” You tilt your head pulling away–already heading to a cabinet to pull out two plates.

“Yes please, I’m starving–it smells delicious.” Yukimiya walked over to help you, by getting the utensils for the two of you.

── .✦ Tabito Karasu

You stared at your boyfriend, the tension in the air was grabbable. “Mm… it could use more chocolate chips.” Karasu’s deep voice finally spoke–his judgemental tone making it seem impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

Letting out a groan, you placed your head in your hands. “Tabi, I put two bags of chocolate chips into the muffin batter!”

Your words fell upon deaf ears, Karasu sticking to his words as he mindlessly continued to eat the sugary treat. The male glanced to look at his girlfriend, catching the unamused glare you were shooting at him.

“Fine, I won’t make anything else for you.” You sigh tired of his bs. Karasu quickly gave you a pleading look. “Hey- hey, no need to get extreme here. You got mouths to feed!”

You scoff walked over to the kitchen threshold. The dark-haired male jumps out of his seat and goes after you. “Listen babe! You know I’ve been watching those cooking battle shows with you!”

“You watched one episode!”

“Yeah, a whole hour!” Karasu tried to defend himself at the same time to get you to forgive his words. “You’re my boyfriend, not some celebrity judge, Karasu.”

“I know, my apologies baby.”

You huffed as your boyfriend slinged his arms around your waist. Pulling you back into his chest, “You know I love your cooking… it’s my life line…” He murmured into your ear as he laid his head on your shoulder.

With a sigh you turned and gave him a full hug. “Did you like the muffins? Be honest.”

Karasu quickly nodded with a grin. “Of course!”

“It could use more chips though…”

── .✦ Oliver Aiku

Music surrounded the two of you, following the sounds of water moving, as the two of you sat in your home hot tub. Next to the tub was a table that held your drinks and a plate of pastries you had made earlier that day.

A hobby of yours as your boyfriend was out practicing or at the gym.

You straddled Oliver’s lap as you fed him the pastries you made for the two of you. Oliver smirked his hands placed on your hips respectfully under the water. Not seeming to mind the water dripping from his chin or the steam surrounding the cool air around you.

“I have such a talented girlfriend.” Oliver praised, greedily squeezing your hips as you bit into a pastry. Your smile brightens at his words, “Someone has to cook for us. You almost burned the house down last time you tried to cook.” You laughed causing Oliver to roll his eyes.

“It was one time.” He groaned, fixing his position to get more comfortable.

“You were making soup.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He scoffed, leaning his head back.

Your eyes softened, raising your hand to caress his face not minding the bit of scruff he had.

Oliver’s eyes met yours, softening as well as he smirked. “What’s with that look?” He questioned his rough voice, making your body weaken. “Am I not allowed to look at my boyfriend?”

“Nope–there’s a price!” He teased as you groaned playfully, pretending to think as your eyes trailed around him.

“Will pastries suffice?”

“Hmmm fine.”

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[cherrieshalo]

Princess Bath ⋆⭒˚.⋆

k.bakugo x fem!reader | fluff | slightly ooc? | 653 words

Katsuki was exhausted after a long day of classes, coming home to your shared apartment in the evening excited to finally stop and take a break from the world around him. He locked the door behind him and hung up his coat, hearing faint music playing. Based on previous patterns, Katuski figured you were most likely taking a bath. He knew that you only took baths when you had a rough day, so he took off his shoes and rushed to the bathroom with a goofy grin on his face. 

He wanted to comfort you, as he needed that same comfort right now, too. 

"Good evening, my pretty princess," Katsuki cooed softly as he stepped into the fragrant bathroom, sinking to his knees next to the bathtub and patting your head. He rested his big arms against the tub. "Such a pretty girl enjoying her little princess bath, huh?" 

Bubbles of all sizes nearly over-flowed out of the tub, a sweet aroma filling the air. The steam from the now lukewarm water fogged up the glass and the small window, evidence of the hot water of your bath being present just moments before. It was a relaxing vibe, perfect for the long day you had. 

A classical music piece played from Spotify’s ‘Recommended Songs’ playlist to enhance the relaxing mood, a fluffy towel waiting for you once you stepped out. 

You nodded, a content smile on your face. “Had a long day…and an exam.”

“Damn, I know. Me too. But at least it’s over now, yeah?” he gently ran his thumb over your cheek. You nodded once more, leaning into his touch. 

You just looked too cute to him. Katsuki looked around the dimly-lit bathroom to see if you had everything you needed. A towel, and a spare one just in case, your pajamas and undergarments already laid out, and your favourite pair of slippers. It seemed to him that you already had everything you needed. 

“I’ll be right back, pretty,” Katsuki kissed your forehead softly before standing up and exiting the bathroom. Sure you had everything you needed, but why not give you more?

He situated himself in the kitchen, grabbing a pack of strawberries from the fridge and cutting off their stems and into smaller pieces. He arranged them on your favourite plate and added some crackers before trailing back into the bathroom. He had to treat his girl, after all. 

“Aye, don’t get sleepy on me,” Katsuki huffed, closing the bathroom door with his foot and setting the plate down on the edge of the tub. “Your fingers will get all pruney and then you’ll be bitchin’ and moanin’ to me about it. Again.”

“You’d still love me anyway,” you hummed as you took a cracker off the plate and mumbled out a small thanks. 

“Unfortunately. Now, eat up. I know you don’t eat when you’re stressed so who knows the last time you fucking ate.” 

“Right now, duh.” 

“Not funny,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, sitting down cross-legged on the bathmat. 

You held out a strawberry for him to take into his mouth and he leaned in to reluctantly do so. “Maybe a little funny.” 

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Not fucking funny. Eat all of that before getting out. I’m making dinner and you’ll eat that too, you hear me?” You knew your boyfriend meant his words, he always did. He cared about your health, even if it meant being a little shithead about it. 

“I will, I promise.” 

“Good. Enjoy your bath, pretty girl. I’ll go get started on dinner,” Katsuki kissed your forehead once more before leaving the bathroom for a second time. 

You took both a cracker and strawberry into your. What a romantic your boyfriend was, even if he didn’t show them off in the most conventional ways. The warmth of your princess bath could wait, for you wanted to be in the warmth of Katsuki’s arms instead. 

© property of cherrieshalo 2025 - please do not steal or copy my work to post elsewhere

[seneon]

♱ BITTERSWEET, WISTFUL KISSES ──── touya.

sfw + slightly suggestive. female hero¡reader. dabi is a bit ooc. kind of bittersweet too. profanity warning. 900+ words.

silence hung in the air, the only sounds echoing to the corners of the ceiling are steady breathing. this clearly isn't supposed to happen. you're in his cheap and small apartment—blanket clinging to the curves of your body which rise and fall with each slow and even breath.

dabi's lips brushed against the skin of your neck, all so chaste yet teasing that it bears hundreds of eerie spiders to crawl down your spine.

“shouldn't you hate me?” touya asked in a soft whisper, his lips still pressing against your skin as his eyes flickered to your face. “i'm a villain, and you're a hero.”

you hadn't answered him, and you didn't want to. not now, not any sooner. maybe that was for the best, because touya is so unsure of himself if he even wanted to know whatever word that might slip out the tip of your tongue.

neither of you knew what twisted fate this is for him to stop seeing you as another of those measly, self-righteous heroes which he despised and loved incinerating to ashes. touya's eyes still gazed over your facial features before they averted to your neck, pressing one last soft and rather chaste kiss.

his fingers are on your neck now, tracing over the love bites he had left. you are like his canvas as he draws on them, leaving his artwork all over. his touch is so gentle in a motion so slow and reverent it has you almost purring like a cat.

it was almost as if he was trying to imprint his bites onto his own fingers, a sense of pride in his tainted heart when he knew you'd be the one walking around in daylight with all these marks.

“do you hate me?” he repeated, words holding such a different weight to them that it makes you glance at him, eyes locking onto his piercing turquoise ones.

“i… i don't know...”

touya's gaze flicked back to you, eyes narrowing slightly at your response. there was a moment of silence, an empty silence, as he took in your words and how your eyes seemed to hold so many unspoken feelings.

“you don't know…” he repeated your words softly, like a broken vinyl record that was stuck at one specific verse of a song. he moved even closer to you, the heat of his body radiating against yours. “then why are you here?”

“i... can't stop myself from coming back. coming back to you,” you said while your gaze averted somewhere else. touya didn't like that you looked away from him so he held your chin to once again lock his gaze onto yours.

the man knew it all. he knew that you couldn't stay away, even though you knew you should. it was the same for him. he never should have laid his fingers on you, on your skin, let alone done all the things he had. but here you both were… tangled up in each other and entwining your fates against each other.

“you should hate me,” he murmured, his fingers that held your chin moving to trace along your jawline.

“then, you should hate me too.”

touya's expression darkened further at your words. he should hate you, he knew it, but he couldn’t. no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon up the anger and bile he reserved for heroes. with you, everything was different. so damn different it makes him question his sanity.

“i definitely should,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “but i don’t.”

you looked into his eyes. “we're both fucked up, aren't we?”

“that’s an understatement,” he chuckled without humour and replied, a hint of humor in his voice. he was intimately familiar with his own brand of darkness, but seeing it reflected in you was both strange and oddly comforting.

“we’re both damaged, that’s for sure. but i guess that makes us a perfect match.”

“a match made in hell, i’d say.”

his eyes glittered with a mixture of amusement and something else way more darker than the natural snow of his hair. “i suppose you’re right about that,” he said, his voice low. “two broken souls, finding solace in each other. it’s almost fucking poetic.”

his fingers ceased the caress of your cheeks before he pulled back slightly to look at you. “but i wouldn’t have it any other way."

it fueled the insides of touya when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as if you never wanted his warmth against your skin to leave.

your lips then found their way to gently press against his, moving around so slowly and so intimately that it makes touya forget that you are even a hero nor was he ever a villain.

you pulled away shortly after, letting out a soft sigh as you leaned your forehead against his, his eyes fixed onto yours. this was a stolen moment of intimacy, a secret that could never last.

“fate’s a bitch,” touya whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. his hands moved up your back, pulling you closer, as if trying to savour every second with you. “but right now, i don’t give a fuck about what’s written in the fucking stars.”

“forget about fate, touya… i want you right now. over and over again. until our souls remember each other.”

bittersweet kisses and wistful touches are given to each other for their web of sorrowful romance.

© SENEON 2025 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[venmondiese]

LET HER INTO YOUR HEART

-ˋˏ| summary: Aemond navegates the ways of parenthood, and all the feelings that come up with. ✧ | Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader ✧ | word count: 3.1k ✧ | Warnings: (little) Angst and Comfort. Mentions of miscarriages, stillborns and infant death. Medieval childbirth practices. . Aemond being a girl dad. ✧ | notes: happy fathers day… i saw an edit of die kaiserin (the 2nd gif) and i said this is aemond coded … so i wrote this between yesterday and today… enjoy!

⋅˚₊‧ Based on Hey Jude by The Beatles ‧₊˚ ⋅

Aemond Targaryen was never late. Yet here he was… late. 

He prides himself in being punctual, he doesn’t like waiting, so he never makes anyone else wait. He organizes his day around the hour of his duties, so he can do everything in time. 

He is a routinary man, and he always takes the same time for everything he wants. If he has a new plan, he’ll make space on his schedule for it. 

And he was very late now. Impossibly late. 

Riding Vhagar in midday is not uncommon for him, and today he had taken a longer flight, in the edge to the Kingswood until near Massey’s hook, and then back. It helped him to get his mind off things, and a bit more relaxed. 

Vhagar had been fussy at the end of their flight, and she didn’t land smoothly, so it hurt his thighs a bit. He grumbles in a bad mood as he goes down his dragon, climbing down in the ropes on her sides. 

Seeing one of the maesters, guards and other people from court is equal to a bad omen, as he knows they had been waiting for him to come back. He hesitates as he walks closer, his posture rigid and his eyebrow raised. Could it be that someone died? Some attack on the city?

Yet the news has him running inside the castle, almost pushing the servants away as he tried to be as quick as possible. He had never ridden a horse so fast, running through the corridors with no decorum. 

Yet he is late. 

As the doors open, he can see the midwives and the ladies in waiting around the bed, even his mother was here, the seven pointed star in her hands as she prays quietly. 

He can see you, the nightgown he gifted you and hair in a braid as you held onto the bed frame, leaning forward to give yourself strength. He breathes in relief as he realizes he was not late, but just in time. 

“Where have you been?” it’s the cry he hears from you as he makes his way across the room as quickly as possible. 

“Thank Gods you’re here” was his mother as he walked past her. 

“Clear the room” he says to everyone “You can wait outside” he says, watching over the small crowd of the court, and to his mother. “Only the maester and midwives.”

Your round belly had been evident even more these last months, where he would tease about you exploding in anytime. The maester and midwives had both agreed it would be a little longer until the babe was here, yet they were wrong. And he almost missed it. 

“I am here, love” he whispers to you “Tell me what can I do”. 

He holds you by the arms, as you were practically crouching down in pain, sweating and weak in the knees. Your grip on his arms was tight, yet he could hear your sounds in pain, almost sobbing. 

“I can’t do it” you say between sobs. 

He looks up at the maester and midwives, close but not interrupting. 

It wasn’t the first pregnancy you both had been through, and he hoped it won’t be the last. All of the losses hurt him deeply, as he knows your illusions for this one had been low almost all the time. You too feared losing yet another child. 

Though most of them were through miscarriages, one had been a stillborn, that he had carried in his arms and you had sung to even in his death. Vhagar had burned his small body, one that had not even breathed once. You gave all responsibilities to him for the name, and he had decided that Baelon was good, like his own grandsire. 

“You can” he says, sure of it. You two had been careful, following all indications from the maesters, and he had made sure everything was given to you these last months. 

“Perhaps the princess could lay…”

“I can’t do it, Aemond” you shake your head, shivering in fear.  He knew his spouse, and you were afraid of giving birth again.

He doesn’t think he had been as tense or nervous in his whole life. He had felt horrible things, his eye being taken out being one of the worst, yet in this moment, he felt dread forming on his stomach, as he helped you lay down and get in a proper position to give birth. 

“You can” he assures you, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. He tries to comfort you, as he takes your hand in his. “You’re strong, and I will be here supporting you, I won’t leave your side for a moment”.

And he doesn’t, he holds your hand, hears every indication of the midwives. Your groans and whimpers in pain has him in insanity, as the maesters can only do so little to ease the pain without compromising the baby. 

“He wasn’t due until another week” you say to the maester, afraid of the outcome. 

“Nature takes its course, princess” Maester Orwyle says. “Do not be afraid, I can see the head”.

“Time to push” the midwife says. 

It was always hard to hear your wailing and screams, the way you gripped on his hand almost crushing it, but it hurts more to hear the sound of the pained screams. He was sweating too, just from stress and helplessness, and he tries to be there for you. He wishes he could take the pain away from you. 

He sees how Maester Orwyle uses the Vectis, pushing it to help the delivery. He cannot see it, turning his gaze away as he hears your screams in pain. It was natural in a woman, he thinks, but how it pains his very soul to hear his beloved like this. 

Yet all of it was worth it when he heard the cry of the baby. Of their child, alive and well. It’s as if he could breathe in calmness, and he thanks the Gods for it. He watches you, moving some damp hairs out of your face in admiration and awe.

“You did it” he whispers, watching you. “You did it, my love” 

You let out a small sound, exhausted as you lean back. “Yeah, yeah..” 

Aemond leans to press a kiss on your forehead, cupping your cheek. “You’re amazing..” he whispers, in awe. You seem to have gone to answer, and he frowns a bit “What’s wrong?”

As the maid takes the baby to the prepared water, the maester leans again close. “We have to stop the bleeding, my prince. The afterbirth seems to be a bit stuck”

“Do what you must, but do nothing that could harm my wife in the process. Nothing”

He can hear maester Orwyle and the midwife talking between themselves, inspecting you still as if they try to decide what’s happening. He turns to you, now on the bed by your side as he speaks softly.

“Don’t leave me, my love. You did it” he says in a soft tone, kissing your hand. “I love you”

“What is it… I.. Where is he?”

“The afterbirth is yet to come, my love.” He says lovingly. “Focus on that. It’s the last thing, I won’t leave your side at all. I am here, love”

“Where is our son?” You ask weakly to him, trying to sit up in the bed and to get the hands of foreigners out of her body. “They haven’t brought him in” 

“They are giving him a bath. A proper clean.” He explains, as it was the custom. “Relax, my love, you need to rest and be still…”

“Go and bring him here. I wanna see him. Please”

Aemond can’t deny your plea, yet he doesn’t want to leave your side in your most vulnerable moment. He hesitates, between being to your side, supporting you as he wished, insisting that you needed rest. But he also knew that you won’t be still unless you have the baby, and he can’t refuse you. 

He stands up, walking to the conjoined room, and he is stopped silently by the maester, who had left you in the hands of the midwives for a bit. 

“My prince” maester Orwyle says quietly, his eyes looking into his. Aemond knew him, as his careful attitude was always something that gave him away when he was about to say bad news.

“What wrong?” he asks, knowing something was bad. Didn’t stop the pit of dread forming on his stomach. 

“The bleeding is a lot. But manageable for now. What worries the midwives is that the princess, and all the difficulties in her pregnancies and this successful one, might be too much for her body.”

“To the point..” he says, a bit exasperated. 

“This birth could leave the princess unable to bear more children, my prince. Could take a toll on her body”

Aemond hesitates a bit. He closes his eye as he moves his head to the ground, as if trying to rationalize his feelings. After many pregnancies, multiple miscarriages and a death in the cradle, it was expected that she wouldn’t be able to have a normal pregnancy… 

Their little baby was a bundle of joy. 

“Will she be alright?” It’s what he asks, the only thing he cares for now. 

“We’ll ensure so. Childbirth has left the princess weary, and we’ll check to make sure.” 

It killed him a bit. He knew of your desire to bear him more children, and to have a large family. He knew it well, because he shared it too. He longed to see you full of his child, you always looked lovely. You’d have been pregnant a lot of times, and he enjoyed every second of that happiness until it was broken. 

But you were alive. You were fine now, and your son was too. He didn’t need more, as long as he has you two. There was joy in his life, and he won’t suffer for what he does not have. 

“Are you certain of it?”

“We can only wait for the afterbirth.” 

“Make sure to be impeccable. I do not want her in pain” He tells Orwyle  before he walks out. 

He can hear the soft cries of the baby in the conjoined room, and he opens the doors to see himself out. Taking a last look, he sees the midwives trying to help you in the last of the birth. 

He sees the maid holding the babe, wrapped in cloth and blankets. He is a bit hopeful, yet before he can hold him, the maid says.

“I am so sorry, your grace.” She says quietly, and for a moment his heart drops. His mind travels to the last time he heard that, when the maid told him that his babe was not breathing. Yet a soft coo came from the baby’s lips, and before he could register it, the maid spoke again. “It is a girl”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to the infant in her arms, taking in the tiny form of his daughter. 

He takes the baby into his embrace, holding her and rocking her. She was small, fragile and so beautiful. 

“Is she healthy?”

“Yes”

“She’s perfect” Aemond says, absent mindlessly as his fingers caress the rosy cheek. 

He cared not if it was a boy or a girl, as long as his child was healthy. And he was content with his little girl. 

As a prince, everyone expects a male heir, to keep up with the House name and continuing the line. Even he had expected a son, a small version of himself and to teach him everything his father did not. 

And here she was. His daughter, being special from the moment she was born, amidst every difficulty and expectation. 

Maester Orwyle had told them almost a year ago that it would be hard to conceive. The midwife, from house Piper, had told them for certainty that it was going to be a boy. 

“You’re my miracle. So precious, and you’re going to be so loved…” he whispers, turning around without a care of the rest of the people in the room. He walks closer to the window, just for a moment, to see her face more clearly. “You have no idea how loved you are, my love. You are our little gift. And I love you more than anything” he says, his voice a murmur and in a soft tone he had never used before. 

He knows he should bring her to you. But he was a bit selfish and decided to have only one second more, just him and her alone. “You and your mother are the women I love most…” he adds. “But you are my everything. My sweet daughter”

Even if her gender was a small disappointment to the rest at first, she already was the light in his heart. It didn’t take you long to get over the fact that you had a daughter instead of a son, even if you had apologised meekly to him. 

You two had agreed to call her Naerys. He spent hours with her in his arms, watching over her small face. She had his pale hair, a bit more golder than his, but still silver. Her eyes were curious ones, of deep purple and full of love. He could swear she was the most perfect little human there was. 

Naerys always looked so innocent, calm even when she cried. When his wife nursed her, she’d fall asleep quickly. She always had a pleasant expression on her face, rarely she fussed or wailed her lungs out. It gave him some kind of serenity that he didn’t have within. 

Aemond adored her. He had left all his duties behind, his routine, his perfectionism. Nowadays he would spend it with you or with his daughter. 

He doted on Naerys like no one else did. He always found excuses to hold her, to check on her at nights, to do anything needed. Wetnurses were practically useless because he did everything. 

“It’s pretty chilly here, hm?” He asks Naerys, as he walks slowly in the throne room. He’d often spend time here, watching the throne and thinking about things. He’d be absorbed by it.

Now, he can only see his daughter as he absent mindlessly walking. 

“Important people have sat on that throne. Our ancestors made it all. This place, this throne…” he says to her. “And they had dragons…”

Naerys looked at him with wide eyes, as she yawned a bit. Comfortable in his arms, she watched the sky of the room, and then his face. He never used his eyepatch around his daughter, because he didn’t deem it necessary.

“And your Kepa made sure you have one too… Hm? You like the sound of that, sweetheart?” He asks, swaying her gently in his arms. “Vhagar put a single egg, and it is as pretty as you are. It was made for you…”

He had heard the tale of his father. Of the little times he’d speak to him and his siblings was to tell tales of his life. And one of his favourite ones was to say how his own mother had taken him into the skies when he was just a babe, merely days old. He spoke as if he remembered the experience.

“Don’t let go of her” You had almost whined to him, as he made sure Naerys was using her little swaddling clothes properly, and he made sure the carrier was tight against his chest. “And if she starts crying you have to be careful. You say your ears get uncomfortable at too much height. And try to be slow, and not too far away…”

“My love, I believe I can manage” he says with a calm smile, leaning to kiss his wife’s lips. “She was born for this. She’ll love it.” 

Climbing into Vhagar’s seat was more difficult than he anticipated, as he tried to hold Naerys still. She didn’t fuss, only shrieking as he held her close. 

Even if the climb was a bit harder than anticipated, it was all worth it when he was seated on the chair and he chained himself to the seat. Naerys wasn’t fussy, but she moved trying to seek a comfortable position. 

“Don’t be fussy now, my love” He says, making sure her little head was covered. “I got you…” 

He was head over heels for this little princess. Now, even in the skies, he was more worried about her than himself. He could feel it on Vhagar too, she was too much more… aware of her surroundings, as if trying to make sure everything is okay. 

In a way, even if fate and Gods decide that Naerys will be his only child, he isn't mad about it. She was his own little miracle, as her presence only made his life brighter. You and him have gotten even closer, laughing at nights when Naerys had a small attack of sneezes, to what she always exaggerates in a cute way. And when you hold her, he can only sit by your side and admire the view of his little world. 

“Look at the sky,” he said to her. It was a warm afternoon, he had picked it carefully. The colours in the sky were orange, and a bit pink. “You like the surprise I made for you? I was waiting for a afternoon like this”

He can barely hear the coo Naerys respond with, and he rubbed small circles on her back, even if she was tucked impossibly tight on his chest. Aemond knew his daughter, and he can swear she was as excited as him for this flight. 

“You’re a fearless one, my love” he says pridefully. “You’ll ride your own in no time.”

Aemond looked at her, and she was watching with her wide curious eyes. He smiles, because at certain times, she looks just like a copy of you.

“That’s the whole world down there, hm? But now, it’s only you and me, sweet girl.” he says, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead as he takes the reins of Vhagar saddle to keep on riding in the sky, just a little longer. 

For he knows that Naerys will only remain this tiny, adorable baby for so little. He knows that once they are back on the ground, she will keep growing more and more by the day. But for now, she was still his small, adorable and special little daughter. And he loved her, in a way he had never felt before. 

[misakisletters]

Eternity is Never the End - 01

The Coelum Express ran over its predestined tracks down from Skyhaven to Linkon City. The silence was deafening for most people, however to its frequent passengers, it was a reprieve from the stress the wanderers give on a daily basis. Linkon has the Hunters, Skyhaven has the DAA to protect the denizens of each location.

Her torso leans onto the wall as she watches the train descend, her eyes watching the familiar silhouette of her old home grow larger and larger, however it would be hours before the train reaches its destination.

On her phone was a haphazard written report she would continue after she arrives at her cousin's place for the duration of her stay. She messages Zayne that she was now bound for Linkon after an exhausting post Deepspace debriefing and stabilization.

Not before long, her eyes close as fatigue finally settles in on her overworked body. The person beside her could only sigh, his heart thundering in his ribcage, he removed his jacket and placed it on her to make sure she was comfortable. He couldn't really intrude with her time with Zayne- and clearly it wasn't his position to do so, at least not yet. Not when his twin sister had a lot on her plate, but he was proud to work with her, to watch her shine after years of separation.

To Caleb, seeing her again brought forth nothing but love, respect and longing. But she no longer was a Xia- she was someone else entirely. They were twins, shared the same womb, the same blood- the same parents yet they were nothing but strangers now. He had no one to blame but himself, had he worked harder to find her, had he never believed the lies of the doctors and researchers in the facility, then he would have seen her grow with his own two eyes. But that wasn't important now, his twin sister was back, and so was he, now stronger- now able to protect her and Kaiya, no one will ever put them in harm's way, not when he's there.

She wakes up once the train's AI supervisor announces their imminent arrival at Linkon Train Station and that all passengers should bring their belongings as they leave. Yet she felt something on her, a jacket of her coworker- Caleb was draped over her as if to shield her from the cold. She smiles at him, giving his jacket back.

"Thank you Colonel Xia for the jacket."

"It's nothing, and please- call me Caleb outside of work. We're both off-duty, not some formal name."

"No problem then, Caleb. It's quite funny how the secretary booked us both at the same carriage."

"We gotta protect one another if there comes a problem."

"That is true- well my cousin will be fetching me so this is where we part. Thanks for being a nice seatmate." She smiles as she takes her luggage along with the rest of the passengers.

Exciting the carriage, she sees Zayne standing by the side, his stoic face had a smile as he takes her bag from her.

"Zaynie! You grew again! That's unfair- give me your secret I need some height."

"You refused to drink your milk when we were kids, I'm bound to grow taller. You also had an unhealthy sleeping pattern when you were a teenager, hence stunting your growth further."

"Okay okay- stop! Don't go all medical on me. By the way, I want the macarons Kaiya gave you last time I was over- especially the lemon meringue flavor."

"She made them herself, I think she would be bringing a batch tonight after hearing that you're coming over for a week? Why are you staying over for a week? Are you not telling me the real reason? Tell me."

"It's getting worse, the migraines, the drug's effectiveness can only help me for so long before this damn situation blows onto my face. Scales have been appearing non-stop, I'm afraid the pills won't be enough anymore, Zaynie."

"But I- I made sure it is the most potent drug that is safe to be consumed by you- how can it start failing already?"

"It's been years since I visited the sea. Drive me there... Please Zaynie? I'll come home before midnight, I promise. I just want to soak for a bit, maybe the urges would calm down."

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose before leading her to his car.

"The furthest part is by the cove in Whitesand Bay-"

"I'll take any location right now, Zaynie."

"Alright, I'll drive you there." He said with resignation, walking her to his car and he put her luggage onto his trunk. She gets inside first before he does, opening the glove compartment where there was a waterproof bag always prepared for emergencies like these- he wanted to always be ready.

"At least bring your phone and wallet with you, I'll bring the rest of your luggage back to my place."

"You're the best little brother anyone could ever have."

"I'm your cousin, but it's nothing. You're like my older sister anyways."

The drive was filled with both of them updating one another with the happening in each other's life, like there was no separation to begin with. Soon they reached the cove by Mo Art Studio where Zayne puts her phone and wallet onto the waterproof bag.

"Call me once you're finished, I'll fetch you. I know you get weak at every first transformation."

"Really, thank you Zaynie."

"No problem, take care-" And with that he leaves with his car. He had left her with the bag filled with her essentials from a towel to her things and fresh clothes from the stuff she left in her last visit.

She was about to walk the short distance to the cove when she felt eyes on her. Looking around she tried to find the culprit, connecting gazes with the person by Mo Art Studio's balcony. She only shakes her head before walking to the cove.

She didn't know that the man gripped his sketchbook tightly, enough to break the pencil he was casually using to draw a crab walking by earlier. His eyes widened with disbelief, it wasn't her... Was it? Or was his mind playing tricks with his perception. But no- he knew it was real- she was real. He gazes behind him, onto the partially covered chiseled piece he made that shared the same face as the woman he gazed at.

Rafayel thought he was delusional, maybe he was- with the guilt festering in his heart since the moment she forced him to strike her heart to save the woman he loves. But he couldn't even follow her, because if he finds out he was just delusional once more... He'd break, and the cycle would continue once again until he spirals over and over, for he knew... he had forsaken her the moment they first met under the tides as young Lemurians.

Dividers are made by @omi-resources , thank you so much for letting everyone use your amazing dividers.

Double update at a short span of time- 😊💞 Thank you for the warm welcome of my first LaDS series. And our first interaction with the boys- I wanted to show her personality with those she trusts and with those she is just acquaintances with- and finally Rafayel's first appearance as the first love interest in this series.

Kaiya would be the name of MC (Main Character) in this series.

✨ Tag List: (Comment to be added!)

@animegamerfox , @madam8 , @plzdonutpercieveme , @mangooes , @ixloom819 , @nm4565natty , @dreamlesssleepsaga , @gemojicon , @animelover18 , @pokemonaora

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Dutch Van Der Linde Headcanons

this is a request! / about a proposal & marriage / gn!reader / 18+ / pic creds / divider: @aquazero

A/N: am so sorry this took like fucking years 💔 I did as much as my brain allowed me and also why did it end up being more me headcanoning reader KSJDJD but idk he just has a headstrong personality yk? I luv you and miss you @kelpiekidd I tried my best 😭🫶🏼x

I think this man is not someone who settles down but if he did, it’d be with someone who absolutely keeps him on his feet and doesn’t buy any of his lies. Who he can’t really pin down. That the only way he’ll feel like he wins is by marrying you.

That and also if you have the same drive that he has. Just refusing to settle and this insatiable need to be more.

Even then, I think you’d have to be just as toxic as he is and a tad smarter and maybe use a little black magic. Cause like it or not, that man is charismatic as hell and usually gets his way. If you don’t have him absolutely hooked, he dgaf I fear.. like he HAS to be obsessed.

I think you’d also have to be like “useful” enough to make him respect you? Like a Susan role or a planner or someone really good at pickpocketing or something. And again, smart.

I think his proposal could actually be romantic as fuck ngl… maybe on your anniversary, he’d hire a coachman or something and take you to a show and then fancy dinner, ending in the nicest hotel with a good fuck 🙂‍↕️ and then he proposes in bed, during aftercare, with the most poetic words.

But I think he wouldn’t bother and it would probably happen mid fuck OR after you threaten to leave him or something……… and then again, end in good makeup sex 🙂‍↕️

I do not believe in the fact that he can’t make people come or else Molly and Hosea wouldn’t be that kind LOL it’s THE LEAST he could do to keep them. And there’s NO HELL WAY Susan stayed for a man that…. Low.

Whether it’s love or something else entirely, you always end up going back to him and vice versa.

The ring, to say the least, is eye-catching and maybe not even your taste. Expensive and has him written all over it. Making sure everyone knows you belong to Dutch Van Der Linde.

I think he would be too busy to plan a wedding ironically…… you know better than to ask him of that.

But if there was a wedding, it would be like the usual parties with the gang and he puts on his best suit for the picture.

Would be laughing and drinking the entire time, happy to know he’s finally bagged you.

Handsy as hell and have probably quickly fucked you three times throughout the occasion, behind the trees or wagons..

And he isn’t done yet 😋

Married life would be so fiery. It’s like he’s found his match. You’re the only one who drives him crazy enough to the point that he’s turned on.

Fighting, sex, fighting, sex 🙂‍↕️

But the fighting can be very crazy…….. manipulation, threats, pushing him into lakes…… only among the rest..

When he’s successful with a robbery or something, he’d be very nice. Lots of kisses and compliments and sex is gentle and more giving. Spends all night talking to you about your shared dreams <3

You’re good at being good to him — you’re not obedient enough to bore him yk? You know when to outsmart him and when to pretend to lose. But at the end of the day, you’ll let him take this “alpha” role.

Both of you are always the best dressed anywhere despite the budget 😬 He likes showing you off <3

I fear his spiral to insanity doesn’t leave you out of it 😔 though you are the last to leave him.

Somewhere down the line, he seems to die more and more that you can’t even see anymore the man you had fallen in love with. So you leave him in that cabin.

He’ll spew curses at you and say he’ll be fine but it’s kind of calm like he’s seen it coming. He isn’t even sure he still loves you like that.

But he still imagines talking to you sometimes about the dreams you once pictured together </3

[jules-writes-stories]

Mine | Azris Week | Day 7

Pairing: Azris x Kallias x Viviane | Chapter 2 on ao3

Possibly the most NSFW thing I've ever written. Collab with the fabulous @g00seg1rl who wrote Chapter 1 on a03

Summary | Eris Vanserra strikes a wicked wager with Kallias. The High Lords will swap beloved pets and work as hard as they can to get the other's submissive to "tap out first." Whoever does must host Rhysand's entire Inner Circle during the next Seasonal Courts Summit. Azriel, being hopelessly devoted to Eris, and a wildly competitive Illyrian, will not let his High Lord down.

But Viv and Kallias have some tricks up their sleeves...

Snippet of Chapter Two: To Take is below the divider or over on ao3!

“We go until one of the pets uses their safeword or signal. First to tap out has to host Rhysand and his entire Inner Circle during the Seasonal Court Summit.” 

Eris smirked at the terms as Kallias smiled with cruel arrogance. Azriel knew his family was a lot—Rhysand and Feyre with their heavy handedness, Nesta and Cassian fucking on every surface, and Mor and Amren, who raided the wine cellars of any estate.  He loved them and was allowed to visit when he desired, but his home was with Eris. 

Azriel would not let his High Lord down. 

“We should determine safe signals.” Eris added. He drummed long fingers against the table top. “My pet’s mouth is engaged more often than not. So he’s trained to tap three times.” 

The Autumn Lord dragged Azriel up by his elbow to lean against his side, his pet now half on his lap. He let his other hand thread through the Illyrian’s curls, then tugged his head to the side.  “Lips like these, Kallias, I’m sure you can understand.” 

A flush bloomed up the column of Azriel’s presented throat. He took the chance to study the male who would use him. 

Kallias was attractive in the way all powerful High Lords were. Magic rolled off him in waves and his broad shoulders tapered into a solid chest and waist. His chiseled jaw was squared with a slight cleft that Azriel felt the urge to lick, and his mouth, set in a stern line, was full. 

But while his skin was moon-pale and clear, it lacked the glow Azriel had come to love, and the smattering of golden freckles along a sloping nose. Kallias’s hair was a white silken sheet, a blank canvas to Eris’s cacophony of copper-red and gold. 

Kallias’s gaze was fixed on Azriel’s mouth once more; he watched the Singer with predatory lust. The Illyrian could admit he was aroused at the thought of this powerful High Lord’s desire, of him using Azriel’s body while Eris watched. 

Eris must have sensed it too, for he loosened his hold on Azriel’s hair and slipped a hand into his robe. He pinched a single nipple, flicking the gold hoop, and tugged the chain. “He’s caged right now. I haven’t decided if I will allow you access to his cock or his ass. I won’t give you both.” The High Lord of Autumn took a sip of  wine and appraised his pet. 

“Keep him caged. I want his holes.” Blue eyes traveled from his mouth down the length of his now exposed chest and abdomen.  

Eris smirked at this confession and Kallias immediately realized his error. He’d revealed too much and given Eris the upper hand. 

“Very well. His cock stays locked up. I want access to all of her.” He nodded in Viviane’s direction. She was still, listening to the terms as well. 

A muscle feathered in Kallias’s jaw. He did not want to share his pet in her entirety, but after a moment of hesitation, nodded in agreement. “Fine.”  He sat back in his chair, arms crossed his chest. “What is off limits?” 

Azriel was secure in the knowledge that Eris knew his boundaries— when pleasure shifted to pain. 

Eris hummed, affecting a thoughtful look. “No breaking skin. I don’t want to see a lasting mark on my pet.” 

Kallias glanced down at Viv, his expression thawing during their silent exchange. The High Lord nodded and looked up at Eris. “Same.” He paused, knowing it was his turn to make a term. “No strikes to the face. Do not touch her face.” A small whimper of appreciation came from beneath the table. 

Eris nodded. “Fair. Faces are off limits.” He glanced quickly at Azriel, then back at the High Lord. “Wings are off limits as well. Don’t damage or injure Azriel’s wings, Kallias, or we’ll have an issue.” His eyes took on a vulpine glow and a shiver ran along Azriel’s spine. Viv shuffled from her spot on the floor. 

Kallias’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like being threatened, Eris.” 

Autumn’s Lord leaned back and affected a casual tone. “It's not a threat, frostling, just a warning.” His gilded eyes burned into the other male’s, waiting. The two powerful High Fae remained unbending, sharpened canines bared. Eris sat with a preternatural stillness, waves of heat pulsing from his lithe form.

A log popped in the hearth, breaking the spell. Kallias offered a tight, chilly smirk. “Fine. I will not leave marks upon or strike his pretty wings. But I will be enjoying them. I’ve been wanting to know what  Illyrian wings feel like and I shall.” 

Blue eyes pinned Azriel to his spot where he was once more kneeling on his pillow. “Don’t worry, pretty toy. I’ll make it good for you,” Kallias purred.

Arousal rushed Azriel followed by shame. He only wanted his High Lord—only came undone for Eris. But when he peeked up from beneath his lashes, golden eyes were watching with thinly veiled amusement. Eris knew his pet was enjoying the attention. 

div by @olenvasynyt

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