#short and sweet *chef's kiss*

[sparklyseblos]

no thoughts just the juno guitar solo

[singsweetmelodies]

AKA: angst, miscommunication and a/b/o, feat. brief/mentioned maxierre with piarles endgame (+ implied maxiel.) happy birthday @boxboxbrioche my love

"Hello, Charles," Max smiles when Charles runs into him (literally) in the Budapest paddock on Thursday. He's wearing the same Red Bull team shirt and jeans as ever, naturally, but something about him looks unusually relaxed and content. Sated, even.

Probably because he's been winning practically every race this season, Charles thinks. That's enough reason for anyone to be looking relaxed and content.

Still, when he steps in a little closer to fist-bump Max's proffered hand, he can't help but notice it. Max's scent is... more than just content. He smells like he's only just come out of heat, and whoever was taking care of him did a very good job of it. He doesn't smell like sex, precisely, but he smells like what Charles would imagine afterglow would, if it had a scent. Golden and lazy and sated.

Oh, he's got blockers on, of course, but Charles has always been blessed (or cursed, depending how you look at it) with a very good nose. So. He knows immediately.

Some too-perceptive instinct is telling him that the timing of this heat has something to do with Daniel's return to racing this weekend. Almost like Max... wanted to get his heat over with before he saw Daniel again?

...That's a big stretch, of course, and Charles would never dare say it out loud. (Except to Pierre, maybe, because Pierre loves theorising about the latest paddock gossip just as much as Charles does.)

So he just smiles politely at Max, and says "Hello" back, and wishes for Pierre to appear out of some corner of the paddock somewhere. It isn't that Charles hates Max, or whatever the media likes to spin, but it's also true that Max isn't Charles' most favourite person in the paddock. (Obviously, that honour goes to Pierre.)

No, Charles' and Max's relationship is simply that of colleagues - good enough, if a little bland.

Which is why Charles is not expecting it at all when Max leans a little closer with something that looks almost like a conspiratorial grin. Charles has no idea what Max might want to be conspiratorial about with him - it's not as though he's leaving Ferrari anytime soon, despite what everyone likes to speculate.

Surprisingly, what Max says to him is not racing or incident-related at all. "Do you know where Pierre is?" he asks, as though Charles is the most reliable source of the Alpine driver's whereabouts. (Charles shouldn't be, but he's very flattered.) "I still need to thank him."

"Thank him?" Charles echoes, a little puzzled. "For what?"

And then Max says the one thing that blows apart Charles' world and turns his day upside-down immediately. "For agreeing to spend my heat with me so last-minute."

He says it so casually, too, and Charles...

Well. Charles knows that many of the other unbonded omegas on the grid like to spend their heats with other drivers. This might seem contradictory at first, but the thing is - while they might not necessarily trust each other on track, you can always rely on the fact that another driver, at least, won't reveal details of that hook-up to the press anymore than you will. Most of the alpha drivers on the current grid are decent enough people off-track that you can trust you'd be taken good care of, too.

It's something that Charles has done himself, too, once or twice - mostly with Alex, who is always incredibly kind about it, and makes sure Charles is comfortable and well-hydrated afterwards.

But mostly, Charles spends his heats alone. He schedules them carefully so they won't interfere with races, and then he bears them on his own, teeth gritted as he works himself open over and over again and clings to whatever article of Pierre's clothing he can find nearby.

It's never good enough, never, but Charles has never really wanted another alpha. He only goes to Alex if his body genuinely cannot go without it anymore, and then it's purely a case of friend helping out a friend.

So, really, Charles has no reason to be this shocked that Max apparently spent his most recent heat with Pierre. The two of them are friends, aren't they? Much better than Charles and Max have ever pretended to be. There's no reason why they wouldn't spend a heat together, really.

Except...

Charles grits his teeth, and it's only years of media training that enables him to still pass it off as a smile. "He did?" he asks, tightly.

Max laughs, still happily unaware that he's taken Charles' day and shattered it like a glass breaking into unrecognisable shards. "Yes," he confirms, and then he bumps Charles' shoulder, almost unbearably conspiratorial again. "You, of course, would know why I now need to thank him."

No amount of media training in the world could have helped Charles keep up his smile in response to that. Max notices - how could he not - and his own smile falls. "You two have not...?" His voice rises up in the end, like he almost can't believe he even has to ask the question.

Charles tastes something sour in his mouth, and by the way Max flinches back, he's sure it must be all over his scent as well, blockers be damned. "No," is all Charles says, brusquely.

Max opens and closes his mouth for a moment, and then he reaches for Charles' shoulder. He hesitates, though, hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds sincere. "For assuming. The two of you are so..." He makes a face. "You are good friends, so I thought if he would do it for me, he would of course do it for you too."

"No," Charles says again, and the word tastes acrid in his mouth. "We have never."

Not for lack of trying, Charles thinks bitterly, and then he forces himself to think of something else. Some excuse that Max will accept.

Fortunately, a little gaggle of people in bright Ferrari red are passing by, and Charles latches onto them with almost too much relief. "Ah, my team," he says, pointing. "I need to go."

It's stupidly obvious, as excuses go, but Max has the grace not to mention it. He just watches Charles go, biting his lip.

Charles wants to hate him. He wants to hate him more than anything else - for having a race-winning car, and a team that supports him properly, and championships, but more importantly than any of that, Charles wants to hate him for having Pierre.

It's not that Charles thinks Max is actually in love with Pierre, or even that they're courting. No, it was clearly just a case of friend-helping-out-friend. But even that is...

Unbearable. It is unbearable, because Charles hasn't had even that much.

Charles had only asked once, and only because he'd been stupid with pre-heat already and not thinking straight. Pierre's long, long silence before he'd said, very gently, "Charles... I don't think that's a good idea" had told him all he'd needed to know, anyway.

After that heat, though, Pierre had called Charles and made sure he was okay, and that he knew it wasn't personal, Pierre just didn't think it was a good idea to get that involved with another driver. Especially one who's also a friend.

Charles had accepted it at the time, and he's never had any reason to think that Pierre has changed his mind in any way.

Except now here Pierre is, apparently spending heats with Max fucking Verstappen, of all people. And, really. Out of everyone on the grid - every goddamn omega - it had to be Max, didn't it?

A part of Charles wants to fall to the floor in devastation, wants to tear at his hair and shake and cry to anyone who will listen, why doesn't he want me, why doesn't he want me?

But Charles remains standing, because even more than he's heartbroken, he's furious.

Pierre did not help Max through his heat because they're in love, or because they're courting. So, he must have done it as a favour to a friend.

Then why the hell would he not do the same for Charles?

Charles also asked him as a favour to a friend (and yes, maybe Charles wanted more, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask for that. He'd just asked for a favour, the way every unbonded omega on the goddamned grid asks their alpha friends for favours every once in a while.)

Pierre had said no, and that he doesn't do that. But he'd forgotten to mention the part where he apparently does do that.

If he were here, Charles might slap him clean through the face. It's not an urge he's often had when it comes to Pierre (or ever, really) but today...

Today. It's just. What the hell does Max have that he doesn't? Max and Pierre are friends? Charles and Pierre are better friends. Max is an omega? So is Charles, and he's better at that, too.

It's obviously not even about looks! Because Charles doesn't want to be rude, but he is definitely better-looking than Max. It's just a fact, as true as "the grass is green" or "Charles is Monégasque" or "Charles is in love with Pierre."

No. Fuck that. None of this makes sense.

If Pierre is willing to spend a heat with Max, then there's no reason why he can't help Charles through one, too. It's not like Charles is asking Pierre to love him back - no, he's long since made his peace with the fact that that, at least, is impossible.

Charles has always wanted too much, though, and if he sees even the faintest chance of getting what he wants, even if it is just in the form of a favour to a friend -- well. He will never not go for the gap.

So Charles waits, increasingly impatient, for his media and team obligations to be done for the day. As soon as they are, he heads for Alpine, because there is no way Pierre will have left already - he is far too dedicated to them, staying behind extra hours to learn as many names as he can and give as much feedback as possible and help with everything that needs helping.

Right, because isn't Pierre just so incredibly helpful. Normally, this would make Charles smile, fond - but today, it makes him want to snarl.

Helpful, yes. Except to him, apparently.

No. Charles will not accept that.

Various team members glance up when Charles storms into the Alpine hospitality, freezing with coffees half-way to their lips and tracking him like the spectators to a tennis match as he storms across their building and towards the driver's rooms. One particularly brave soul ventures an "Er..." but Charles is already across the room before he's even finished saying it.

Charles knows the way to Pierre's driver's room as easily as he knows the way to his own (incidentally, it's on the same side of the building) and it's mere seconds later that he's bursting through the door of Pierre's driver's room.

Pierre freezes when the door slams open, mouth caught in a comically surprised expression, but it relaxes quickly into a fond (if still somewhat surprised) smile. "Charlito!" he says, standing up and reaching a hand in Charles' general direction. "This is a nice surprise."

But Charles is not in any mood for pleasantries. "Did you spend a heat with Max," he asks, but it's not really a question as much as it is an accusation, pointed and sharp.

Pierre freezes again, the smile slowly dropping off his face. His scent goes bitter with unpleasant surprise. "I -"

"If you lie to me, I am going to slap you," Charles says, injecting the words with just enough of a snarl that Pierre will know he's not messing around.

Pierre's expression goes from shocked to hurt to angry almost faster than Charles can process. "I wasn't going to lie to you, Charlo. I would never. Not with you."

He sounds sincere enough about it that Charles almost feels guilty, but then Pierre adds, "He's just a friend who needed a favour" and Charles is right back to furious.

"I was a friend, and I needed a favour," Charles says bitingly. He doesn't have to say anything more, because he knows Pierre will understand exactly what he means.

Pierre's face shutters, closing off completely. Even his scent goes blank, like Pierre is deliberately shutting off every part of himself. "That's different."

"How?" Charles hisses at him, and Pierre obviously wasn't expecting the vehemence of it, because he stumbles a step back. "How the hell is it different, huh?"

Pierre's expression does something complicated, and he makes a rough noise, low in the back of his throat. "It just is," he says, and refuses to elaborate.

Charles is livid. "It just is?!" he explodes. "Tell me how it just is, Pierrot, because I sure as fuck don't get it. I am your friend - non, I am your best friend - but when I ask for this favour, you say no. Then when it is Max, you say yes?"

"It's different," Pierre says again, sharply, as though sharpness alone will make Charles drop the subject.

He really doesn't know Charles if he thinks that will work. "It is not different. Not at all. What, unless you are trying to say that you don't want me?"

"Of course I-" Pierre starts, then cuts himself off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't want to do this with you, Charles."

"Well, I want to do this with you," Charles retorts, unfazed and as fuming as ever. "What is it, huh, Pierre? You prefer Max over me?"

"Of course not," Pierre says, and he has the audacity to sound almost offended.

"But you must, if you fucked him and not me," Charles snaps. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to accomplish here, but he knows - he knows that he's furious, and Pierre is being a fucking asshole, and he needs Pierre to admit that much. At least.

Pierre, however, seems determined to continue being a stubborn asshole. "It wasn't like that," he insists, and Charles sees red.

"It's exactly like that! I asked you to fuck me, to help me through my heat, and you said no because you do not want me."

And that, somehow, is the last straw.

"Shut up, Charles," Pierre growls - actually growls - at him. "Just, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't?" Charles snaps right back, goading. "Why don't you tell me, then?"

Pierre snarls again, guttural and furious, and Charles knows that he should be terrified. But right now, he's far too furious to care.

"Tell me," Charles goads again, because he knows that nothing will ever compel Pierre as much as a challenge will.

Pierre is breathing hard, his fists clenched, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "You think you know what happened with Max, huh?" he asks, and Charles has never heard him sound like that. Despite himself, it sends a thrill through Charles' whole body. "You think you know what I want and don't want?"

Charles lets his belligerent silence do the talking for him, and Pierre's eyes flash. "Well, do you know that none of it is true? Do you know that none of the rumours of me with all those omegas are true?"

"What do you--" Charles begins, but Pierre cuts him off with a single hand held up, raised as sharply as a slap.

"Do you know, Charlito," he says, almost viciously, "that I've never been able to date any other omega for longer than a few months because I was always comparing them to you?"

Charles jolts where he stands, all the breath wrenched from him. "What--"

But Pierre doesn't give him a moment to process that. "Do you know that I only agreed to spend this heat with Max because he was desperate and out of options?"

"Do you know," Pierre continues, dangerously soft, "that I had to think of you just to be able to come at all?" He stalks a single step closer to Charles. "Do you know that I had to pretend it was you all the time just so that my knot wouldn't go down?" Another step, and Charles is shaking all over, but he can't move. Pierre has him pinned down, completely rooted to the spot with his scorching gaze and world-ending words.

"Do you know," Pierre concludes, softest of all, "why I really said I wouldn't spend a heat with you?"

Charles isn't sure how he even manages to form the word. "Why?"

Pierre's eyes are so, so dark as he stops just in front of Charles, raising one hand to ghost just millimetres above Charles' collarbone. "Because," he says, and his voice is rough. "I knew that if I did, Charles, if I fucked you even just once, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I would bite you, then and there, and I would make you mine."

All the while that he's been speaking, Pierre has been tracing his fingers upwards, a slow, slow torturous slide mere centimetres above Charles' skin. Charles can almost feel the heat of his touch, almost but not quite, and when Pierre stops just below Charles' mating gland - Charles whines and shudders forward, the combination of Pierre's hand there and that word mine too much for him to resist.

Pierre's fingers touch the overheated skin of Charles' mating gland, and the world explodes.

Charles' knees buckle, and his head spins, and he has to press his thighs together in a desperate effort to ease the sudden and burning need there. He's wet, he can feel it, leaking slick all over the place just from that one touch.

Pierre jerks his hand back, of course, but even that split-second of contact was enough to destroy Charles perfectly.

Pierre is panting, and he looks about as wrecked as Charles feels. "So do not stand there and tell me that I don't want you, Charles," he says, and his voice shakes - anger or desperation, Charles can't tell. "Not when I have done nothing but want you for as long as I have known how to want."

Charles shudders, the full weight of Pierre's words sinking in on him all at once. As Charles stands there, processing, he watches as the world rearranges itself entirely.

Charles breathes in, and then he breathes out. "Fuck you, Pear," he says, only a little shakily. "No, seriously, fuck you. How obvious do you need me to be? I literally asked you to spend my heat with me!"

For a moment, Pierre looks so indignant that he forgets to be angry. "You asked it as a favour to a friend!" he protests. "I just said, I can't do that! Not if it's you."

"Yeah, well," Charles says waspishly, "I only asked it like that because I thought you would say no otherwise."

And all at once, Pierre's expression transforms as he comes to the same sudden and brilliant realisation Charles just had.

"Charles," he says, shell-shocked. "If you're saying what I think you're saying..."

He glances down at his hands, clenches them tightly into fists again, then looks back up at Charles, his gaze burning. "You have to know, you can't take it back. I'm not going to let you take it back. Not if you mean it."

"God, Pierre, you are so fucking stupid," Charles says, and alright, maybe he is still a little angry about the whole situation, after all. (He thinks he has the right to be, though.) "Why do you think I was so angry that you went for Max?"

When Pierre doesn't say anything immediately, Charles snaps off a sharp step into Pierre's space, flicking his fingers against Pierre's forehead. "Yeah, it's because I wanted you to choose me. Only me."

Pierre's hand comes up, grabbing Charles' wrist in a bruise-tight hold. He draws Charles' hand away from his face, but then he doesn't let go, just keeps holding on, fingers circling Charles' wrist like they're meant to fit there. "Only you?" he echoes, and it sounds like a question.

Charles nods, because there was never any other answer, and he's about to say it, too, but then Pierre kisses the words right off his mouth.

If Charles' world hadn't already exploded so thoroughly earlier, then it would now.

It's a good kiss. No, it's better than a good kiss - it's a fucking incredible kiss; Pierre's one hand still wrapped around Charles' wrist while the other finds its way to his waist, like it belongs there. Pierre kisses him like he's still a little angry, but also like he's never meant anything more, pouring every part of his soul into it. Pierre kisses him like he's already imagining the night they're going to spend together after this, and he kisses Charles like how he's planning to fuck him later.

Charles has no objections to that. None at all.

Well. Except the one.

He pulls away from the kiss, pressing his palm hard to the side of Pierre's face. "You're going to spend my next heat with me," he says, orders more like, and it's far too possessive, but he can't bring himself to care. Not one goddamned bit.

Pierre growls, low in his throat, and pulls Charles even closer to him. "No, chéri," he says, too-softly. "I'm going to spend every single heat with you from now on. Forever."

"Forever," Charles breathes, and then he kisses Pierre again, hard, making it a promise. "Forever."

[trulyumai]

soon to be heir

—pairing: emperor Geta / empress! reader

synopsis: word of your pregnancy spread fast. Geta had to act even quicker to ensure your safety.

warnings: talk of violence, short tempers, grabbing. geta tries to be soft.

a/n: this was very heavily requested, enjoy everyone!

The news spread like wildfire.

‘Empress with a soon to be heir!’ For the gods, your own servants whispered about it.

It was true, of course. How could it not be, for Geta would make sure to fill you almost every night. Inching his fingers to touch below and shove the remainder of his seed into your wet mound.

He had planned for this. Dreamed of it.

Of you swole with his child; all his own doing. You didn’t, or hadn’t, planned on becoming a mother this early into his reign. But life was funny that way. Life and a certain ginger haired emperor.

You sat now, swelled next to the man during dinner time. It was unfortunate on the servants really, to abide by all your silly cravings. grapes here, jackfruits there and oh! Don’t forget about the sweet bread. Did I mention the berry spread?

“Wife,” Geta’s voice drew you from your thoughts. A hand, warm and callous placed itself upon your tummy. “Would you be receiving anything else?” He was ever so doting on you now. His eyes even held a bit of love to them from time to time.

“Ahm,” thinking you tried to place the current craving at command. But with a newfound shyness and tinge of embarrassment, you decided against it. “It’s— it’s nothing, dear husband.”

Almost immediately, Geta sensed the lie. And oh, how he hated those.

For gods sake, half of the palace lay in waste for the rumor of there being a rat, so for the audacity you displayed? It was dangerous.

He squinted and with the same arm, draped it across your shoulders, pinning your shorter body to his. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, little wife, would you?” A fire sprung up inside your body. Automatically, fight or flight seemed to be kicking in.

“It’s just a small thing. Not even worth mentioning really,” spit had gathered in your mouth incessantly out of fear. Gulping it down, the emperor leaned in further, until his nose brushed against yours.

If it were any other man, you would have called him pretty.

If it were any other man, you would have danced kisses upon his cheeks, his eyelids.

But it was Geta.

So you just watched, holding back a whimper as he applied more pressure with his hand upon your back.

Wordlessly, you knew what he wanted. He had become so infatuated with your wanton needs lately.

Oh, a bath? He’ll start it.

Those rare flowers by the bay? He’ll send word for them.

What’s that, that man is staring little too long? Beheading it is!

The last one was on his account, Geta had the man seized while you woddled back to the chambers, unaware of the whole predicament until your faithful servants informed you.

Geta had lobbed his head off right in the middle of the throne room. Screaming on about loyalty, fealty. What was his.

Geta’s fingers slowly perched there way below your chin, mulling you out of the violent place you put yourself in.

“Well?” The man wasn’t known for his patience, and you were surprised he lasted this long already.

“It’s… honey bread.” The emperor had to stifle his laughter. To hear and worry over such a dumbfounded thing.

“Honey bread.” He repeated, already raising his palm to signal for the chef.

“It shall be done, my wife.”

“It’s not necessary—

“It shall be done.” That was the end of it, you supposed.

Slowly, cautiously you sat up, legs already shaking with the added pressure.

Geta’s hands lay tensed and ready, just in case he needed to grab or hold you.

Unfortunately for him, you noticed this. Wanting to grant the man his sought out intention of protection, you reached out and cradled his hand in your own.

“Walk me back to our room?” And with a look as pathetic as that, how could the man say no.

He stood with you, and automatically, the servants in the room bowed their heads.

Fearful to take a glimpse of you and it be mistaken for something else.

Fearful to lay eyes upon the gruesome emperor with the short temper.

Now, with his big palm splayed out on your lower back, you began your stroll. Leaning into his soft robes your eyes shut. Geta had no problem taking the lead, holding onto your body with desperation and dare he say, infatuation.

[tbaluver]

Hiii! Can you make general Sylus HCs?? Fluff ones though! YOURE LIKE A BREATH OF FRESH AIR OMG LIKEEEE THE FLUFF MAKES MY HEART SIMPLY M E L T !

Sylus Headcanons- Love And DeepSpace

a/n: omg anon you're so sweet thank you so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ i hope you'll like this and i hope this is okay!! <3

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy! <3

genre: fluff fluff

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

General Headcanons ˎˊ˗

This man is big everywhere. If you have or seen the memory of Within Reach you know what I'm talking about. Since he has quite a large build in height and muscle, he probably has trouble finding clothing in his size in store. Sleeves would be too short or pants would be too tight so often he would have to get them tailored but it's fine because he has all the money in the world.

This man is 6'2. Since he's tall, mirrors can cut off your head or usually shower heads are mounted too low so he would have to crouch down often. But later on he took down any small mirrors and adjusted the shower to his height for his liking.

Would try to eat a healthy balance meal 3 times a day unless work got in the way. He also probably has the best skincare routine ever. He would have cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer, and different types of sunscreens for morning or even at night.

In Tender Curve, he mentions he's there to feed a cat. Whenever he has the time he'll leave cat food outside for any strays. He has no time to take care of any pets and also Mephisto would squawk at him nonstop with jealously.

He probably thought he would never sing in his life until Luke and Kieran 'pestered' him to try it out in the karaoke room. He thought why not he had nothing else to do. He would lose track of time due to Luke and Kieran cheering him on. So if being the Onychinus's Leader never works out he figures he can be an idol in the future.

The type to accept any business as long as it's near your location whether it work or you have things to do in that area. How would he know your location? You would have your location posted on your moments and sometimes Luke and Kieran talk about you a lot. He would use any business matter to talk to you and ask if you can help him with any errands.

Relationship Headcanons ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Sometimes he'll let Mephisto spy on you and update him on what you like to eat so he can learn how to cook it for you when he doesn't have the personal chef around. He likes trying new recipes and you are always there to try them or help him make it. Would love it when you would hug him behind while he's in the kitchen cooking or the other way around.

Not super big on PDA especially in the N109 zone but will do gestures like his hand on your lower back or his arm around your waist. But in private he would be a lot more affectionate. In the car, he loves having one of his hands intertwined with yours as it rests on your lap while his other hand is on the wheel. Lots of forehead kisses. Sometimes would tease you because of your height difference and make you try to reach him to kiss him on his lips. Eventually he'll crouch down to kiss you after watching you struggle.

If anything were to upset you, he'll always be there to listen and to comfort you. He'll hold your hand or wrap and arm around your waist, rubbing soothing small circles reassuring you on whatever the issue is or helping you find a solution to whatever the problem is. If it was anyone that bothered you, they might want to sleep with one eye open.

He's also kinda silly. When you walk in his bathroom while he's shaving, he'll put some of the cream on your nose because he thinks your reaction would be funny.

Would always have an outfit to have for you to match with him in a business meeting. But if you wanted a different outfit he would find something to match with you that way everyone knows that you two are together.

He's extremely thoughtful. He remembers even the smallest details you have mentioned to him. He'll always find the perfect gift to give you on anniversaries or birthdays.

What's his becomes yours. You want his clothes even though they might be too big for you? Take the whole closet. He'll find his clothing in your fitting quite adorable actually. He'll even give you keys to his armory, he has many so choose whatever you want. He even let's you have Luke and Kieran as your henchmen too as long as he gets to have them back for work.

[simplyhale]

cockwarming rafe while watching a movie n hes just teasing u the entire time but wont move until the end of the movie 😩

omg omg *contains smut mdni!*

“please,” you whine, shifting your weight from side to side, only achieving one thing, his cock somehow slipping further into you, nudging the tip against your cervix almost painfully

rafe chuckles, his hands slipping to your waist to hold you still, “stay still, till the end of the movie” he huffs, bucking his hips up from the couch. you moan and hang your head, staring down at your thighs on top of his muscly ones

you’ve seen this movie before, racking your brain to try and figure out how long of it is left gets you nowhere though as his fingers ghost over your hip and down to your dripping wet pussy

he plays with your clit, jumping from rubbing gentle, slow circles over the aching and pressing almost too hard, your breath hitching every time he does

“rafe, god,” you shudder, clenching your thighs together quickly, your nails digging into his skin. he groans behind you, his hands inching down between your legs

“not quite god but the next best thing,” he smirks, you can’t see it but you can hear it. he leans forward, his bare chest pressing into your back, “now, sit fucking still,”

he forces your thighs open, circling his hands around them, his fingers digging in enough to bruise. he lifts you up before settling back against the couch, dropping you back down the length of his cock as he does

you pinch your eyes shut and bite your lip to stifle a moan. laying back against him, your head tilts back against his shoulder, your attention turning to the ceiling instead of the movie

rafe stops his teasing, for five minutes, then his fingers continue their assault. one hand tickling up the inside of your spread thigh, fingers circling around where you’re stretched around him and up through your folds and to your clit

his other hand settles on your rib, almost sweetly brushing his thumb against your stretched skin. your eyes water and your hips shake slightly, though you hope he doesn’t notice.

a slap lands on your thigh and you jerk, he noticed. “shit” you hiss under your breath and force yourself to relax against him. the sweet brushing over your rib stops when his thumb catches your nipple

against your will, your walls tighten around his cock, tears slip down your cheeks and you sniffle. “nearly over now,” rafe mumbles against your neck, his lips peppering kisses over your skin, “doing so good for me”

you nod slightly, your words failing as your brain turns to mush. his fingers continue to dance over your skin, you wonder how such a sweet action can feel so degrading, the tips of his fingers feeling like fire.

rafe’s cock starts to throb inside you, rubbing against your walls. he fidgets underneath you, his hips rolling, thighs clenching and his abs bumping your back. your cunt drips from the actions and you know the movie will be finishing soon

slowly, you lean forward, planting your hands on his thighs to grind your hips slowly back against him, fucking yourself down on him, “rafe, please” you whine once more

as you do, the room fades to black, your head snaps up to the tv in time to see the credits rolling and you both still. you swallow thickly and then rafe’s fingers are tangling into your hair, pulling harshly until your back arches

“s’fucking tight,” he groans behind you, louder than the music over the credits. he starts to fuck up into you harshly, letting out the past ninety minutes of teasing and anticipation on your poor cunt

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

[senascoop]

SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

[ennabear]

ENNABEARRR! DROP ANOTHER MEAN!ABBY DRABBLE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS! (pretty please i luv your writing 🤍)

ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง HEHEHEHE HAIII SWEET NONNIE!!!!! cmere lemme smooch you real sloppy MMWWWAAAHHH. love love love u, here’s mean!abby when you’re on your period…

it would start with her in the middle of her workout at the gym. she feels her phone buzz in her pocket so she pulls it out to glance at it, seeing a message notification from you but deciding she’s too busy read it. so she shoves it back into her pocket and ignores it.

you stare at your phone screen frustratedly, hormones running wild, the dull cramps in your stomach only adding to your dismay. every text you sent was met with a small gray delivered under it. why the hell is she ignoring you?

after a few minutes of groaning into your pillow and squeezing your teddy bear in agony, you decide to fuck it all and call her, something that was reserved only for the most extreme emergencies. as expected, she picks up on the fourth ring with an annoyed “is it an emergency?”

“YES, abby!! why haven’t you answered my texts?” you yell. your hips feel like they���re being viciously yanked apart, tits so sore you yelp at the feeling of your t-shirt brushing against them, and you’re almost certain there’s a giant bloodstain under you.

“what’s wrong?” she asks, panicking and throwing all of her gym equipment into her bag. “do you need me to come home?” and she doesn’t wait for a response to this, she’s already throwing her gym bag into her car and speeding off.

“everything hurts.” you moan, voice cracking as tears start to spill involuntarily from your eyes. “my back and my stomach and my hips and my tits and—” you get cut off by your own sobbing, feeling completely paralyzed as you lay alone and cold. abby is a fucking savior right now, assuring you she’s on her way and she’ll do anything in her power to make sure you’re comfortable once she gets home.

it takes a surprisingly short time for her to get back to your apartment, being greeted by two hungry kittens meowing up at her with their huge eyes. she almost steps right on them as they trail right in front of her feet, perking their tails up and nuzzling against her legs.

finally, she stumbles into the bedroom, finding you curled up under a few different blankets with your head stuffed in her pillow. “baby?” she asks, her voice soothing you momentarily but unfortunately not enough to stop the assault on your emotions right now.

you attempt to turn over and face her, but a sharp pain causes you squirm and roll back into your comfortable nest. two strong arms wrap themselves around you, scooping you up and hauling you to the bathroom. “the sheets, abby.” you moan. she ignores this, peeling off your clothes while she waits for the shower to heat up.

“i’ll be right back,” she whispers. “holler if you need anything.” and you’re left alone to shower by yourself, the hot, steaming water relaxing your muscles and providing the sweetest relief. abby gathers she sheets, scrubbing the small stain with cold water and throwing them into the wash with a douse of stain remover.

abby isn’t a great chef, but she’ll do anything for her baby while she’s in pain. after dumping a few scoops of kibble into each of the girls’ bowls, she grabs a box of pancake mix and gets to work. it takes a few tries for her to make one that’s actually presentable, hands shaking as she tries to maneuver the half cooked batter onto the spatula, but she eventually gets the hang of it. she slides the ugly, torn up pancakes onto her own plate, saving the pretty ones for you, of course.

you tug on one of abby’s torn up t-shirts and a pair of soft sweatpants, tiptoeing out of the bedroom and slumping down on the couch. abby approaches you with a plate full of golden pancakes drowning in syrup, and you notice for the first time how hungry you are. “here, you can pop some pills after you eat.”

“i didn’t know you were a chef.” you giggle, placing a weak kiss on her cheek as a thank you. she rolls her eyes, “yeah, yeah. don’t flatter me.” the two of you eat in almost silence. abby turned on some stupid docuseries she’s been watching. in your opinion, it’s boring as hell, but you’ll watch it as long as she’s happy.

both of the cats curl up on her lap once you’re done. of course she’s their favorite, you curse mentally. abby pulls you closer, wrapping a warm blanket around you and drooping her head on top of yours. “sorry i wasn’t there this morning.” she whispers. “you should’ve called me sooner, though.”

you laugh drowsily, ready to get some quality sleep now that you’re finally comfortable. “you’re a dick sometimes, i love you.”

[writers-hes]

Request: carmy/reader, jealousy

“you’re so mean to me.” (c. berzatto x reader)

You friend sees you at the Beef while you were helping out at the counter. Carmy feels insecure. (mean!carmy, angst to fluff, just :(, sydney is such a sweetheart, protect carmen at all cost, not sure if there are spoilers, unedited.) - ACCEPTING REQUESTS!

He comes to the Beef with authority and an air of confidence. Richie noticed that he had a designer shirt on, the monogram of some brand littered on it. The shoes on his feet could cover some expenses at the Beef. You were helping out at the counter that day. Carmy has been telling you how stressful the Beef had been since day one and you decided that on your days off, you’d go down to the shop and help. Carmy wished you didn’t come that day…not if he was there.

The first time you came, Carmy was bewildered. He was a blushing, babbling mess when his girlfriend came to help. “Ayo, Jeff, stop staring and give the girl a job!” Tina teased, making Carmy’s ears turn red. 

“Alright, Chef,” he said, looking at you, finally breaking out of his trance. “Come to the office and I’ll…orient you,” he takes your hand and brings you to the back office before you could say hi to his coworkers. “Syd, cover for me!”

“Yes, chef!” 

He locked the door behind him and kissed your head. 

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was soft, dripping with vanilla and honey.

“It’s my day-off and you’ve been telling me how much you needed another person at the counter and I decided to come down and help out. I’m sure Richie could help me,” you said. “But if you think that I might disrupt the system, I can leave and stay in the area! We can go on a date after your shift,” 

Carmy could just melt. How were you so considerate and beautiful and kind to him? He was so sure that he didn’t deserve you. He was almost certain that you were too good for him. Too good for everyone.

“I promise, I won’t mind whatever you choose, Carm.” you said, smiling softly at him. You could see the gears in his head turning. 

“No, no. I want you here,” said. “I want you here.”

“Okay. I’ll stay,” he hears, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll go to Richie and ask him to teach me the basics, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, pecking your lips “Just come to the office if you’re not feeling it, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, leaving the space and leaving a lovesick Carmy in the office. 

“Hey, guys! Sorry if I’m here on short notice. I’ll just keep out of your way and help Richie out, okay?” you asked. The kitchen hums and releases a series of “sure”, “okay”, and “thank you’s.”

“Chefs! I’ll take care of family today,” Carmy said a few moments later. He was watching you joke around with Richie. He was teaching you the basics and teaching you how to take orders. 

The first time you helped out, Carmy was tense. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. Nothing to touch you but soon, once you were well-integrated in their system, the kitchen found themselves looking forward to every Wednesday when Carmy was calmer, less annoying, and less rude. It’s like you take out every bad thing in him. 

-

Not today though. Not when Richie saw your eyes widen in recognition, an instantaneous sweet smile plastered on your face.

“Ayo, cousin!” he calls, while you almost literally jumped over the counter to talk to this guy. 

“Lawrence!” you greeted, taking him in a hug. “How are you? Richie, this is my childhood friend, Lawrence. Lawrence, this is Richie,”

Richie could only give a grimace and a half-assed wave. Where the fuck was Carmy?

“Wait for a bit,” you asked. “Sit down, okay? Your sandwich is on the house.” You looked at Richie to ask if he could cover for a few minutes and he nodded. He shouts at the order in the kitchen.

“Who’s that asshole?” he asked, getting a glass of pop. 

“My childhood friend,” you said. “We grew up in the same street together,”

“What does he do?”

“Finance…I think? It’s been a while since we last talked. I think last year?” you wondered. “I didn’t even know that he was still in Chicago because we saw each other in New York,”

“Carmy knows him?” 

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t talk about him alot. I think Carmy only knows him as a childhood friend,” you said. “They’ve never met each other.”

Richie gives you the drink and the sandwich that Tina prepared. You uttered a thanks before walking to whereLawrence sat. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said, taking the sandwich from the tray. 

“I didn’t know you still lived here,” you said. “The last time that I saw you was in New York. I thought you were a big finance guy?”

“Ah, I quit,” he shrugged. “Decided to start my own start-up here in Chicago. I had enough savings and well, you know,”

“Of course,” you nod. “I don’t work here. I just help out once a week because everything’s been so busy,”

“Hm,” he hums. “My employees have been raving about the sandwiches here since the new management took over. Decided to try it out and sure enough, you were there.”

“Fuck! Where the fuck were you?” Richie asked Carmy when he finally came through the back door. Some rich asshole has been wooing your girl in the seating area. Says he’s her childhood friend or some shit,”

“Who?” Carmen asked, removing his jacket. 

“Your girlfriend took a break to talk to a customer, Jeff.” Tina said. Carmy frowned, walking briskly to you. The staff huddled, intrigued at how this could unfold. Carmy has never felt jealousy before. He’s never had to deal with girlfriends and their guy friends that definitely look at you too long. He’d never have to deal with Lawrence who was so obviously flirting with you. He’d never have to deal with you accepting it. The jealousy consumes him.

“Carmy! Come here,” you said when you finally noticed him. He’s been standing there for minutes while you listened to this guy drone on about how bored he was with his money. How you were probably meant to see each other again. 

“Hey,” Carmy greets the guy in front of you. A chair scrapes loudly on the floor, reverberating in the whole restaurant. He sits down. 

“Carmy’s the owner of this place,” you told Lawrence. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“He is?” Lawrence asked and Carmy could feel him sizing him up in his dirty white t-shirt. “I’m Lawrence. We grew up together,”

“Oh,” Carmy said. “Uh, babe, can I talk to you for a minute in the office?”

“Sure,” you said. “I have to go,” you told Lawrence, who stood up as well. His sandwich was half-eaten and it annoyed Carmy. Had he no respect to at least finish the food in front of the chef who made it? Asshole. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m leaving too,” Lawrence said. “I have a meeting around here. I’ll see you?” he asked. 

“Of course,” You removed your hand from Carmen to hug Lawrence and it fucking hurt. Lawrence kisses the side of your head before sparing a glance to Carmy. What an asshole. 

“What was it, Carm?” you asked, smiling. You were almost forgiven because of how sweet you looked but Carmy have always felt things too intensely. He couldn’t stop what came from his mouth and it was too late. Too fucking late and the damage has been done.

“Go home,” he said, coldly. Your face fell and Carmen wanted to take it back. He felt you recoil yourself away from him, as if he’s hurt you. As if he burned you.

“Bear?” you asked softly.

“Go home,” he repeated. You frowned, grief-stricken but you nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll…I’ll just get my stuff from the locker,”

Carmy looks away from you and you clear your throat. Walking away from him, you saw the staff pretend like they weren’t listening.

“Hey, guys. I’m going…going home,” you said, trying to stabilize your wavering voice. Tears were threatening to spill but you blink them away. “I don’t feel well, and I realized I have this…thing to attend to.” you lied.

“Of course, sweets,” Tina says. “Get home safely, okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll let you know once I’m home.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sydney says, glaring at Carmen. 

“No, it’s�� “

“It’s just a few blocks away. I’ll take you.” she says, and you nodded, walking to the locker room with her. 

“Sorry for being such a bother,” you said while you waited for her to change into her outside shoes. 

“You’re not,” she reassured. “Let’s go?”

-

“I didn’t know what I did wrong,” you said, walking away from The Beef. “I was just so excited to see my friend. We grew up together, you know? In the same street. Went to the same school and we haven’t seen each other in a year. I didn’t know what I did for Carmy to be so mean.”

“It’s okay,” Syd says, not wanting to get in the middle. “Just explain things to him, okay? You’re the only person he listens to.”

“I guess,” you nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I just…he’s never been that way to me before. It feels new and I don’t like it,”

Syd, who’s been on the receiving end of Carmy Berzatto’s anger, wanted to protect you from him but it wasn’t her place. She wanted so badly to tell you to let him cool off.

The remaining walk back to your apartment was quiet. You both didn’t know what to say, where to start. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked Sydney. “Refresh a bit?”

“No, I’m fine. I might be needed at the restaurant,” Syd says. You nod, going in for a goodbye hug with your friend. “I’ll see you?”

“Yeah. Thanks for walking me home. Stay safe, okay?”

-

The kitchen hated Carmy that day. He was ruder, more annoying, more…insufferable. Tina said that he handled the situation wrong, Eibrahim and the others, except for Richie agreed. So, when Sydney comes back, the first thing she say was, “What the fuck, Carmen?”

“Stay out of it, Sydney,” Richie warns but Sydney did not give a fuck. Seeing her friend so defeated, so sad stirred something in her. Maybe she was biased because she actually liked you

“She was crying all the way from here,” she said. Carmy felt like he was going to throw up. “Grow up, Carmy. Just because you can’t handle that she has other friends, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on her.”

“Fuck off, Sydney.”

Sydney stands, taken aback. She was just trying to help.

“Fine,” she says, blinking. “But if you come to an empty home, don’t take it out on us.”

-

Sydney’s warning rang in his ears as he drove home. He was anxious but his anger superseded every emotion that he was feeling. That was why, when he opened the door, he immediately looked for you. 

“Who was that?” he demanded. Anxiety and anger had such a bad mix and he knew it. He couldn’t stop. That friend of yours made him feel so insecure. 

“Carmen,” you sighed. “He’s my friend. Lawrence. I told you about him before,”

“Carmen?” he chuckled. He’s just Carmen now? “I don’t like him.”

“Why?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s nice. I was actually so excited for the two of you to meet until you ruined it. He’s my friend that I haven’t seen in over a year, Carmy. Wasn’t it a natural reaction to be excited?”

“What? You’re telling me that I ruined your little date in my restaurant?” he asked, voice raising. “That’s nice. Sorry for bothering you,”

“We weren’t even doing anything wrong!” you said, walking away. You didn’t want this—you just wanted to talk about things without screaming. 

“Hey! Get back here, I’m talking to you!”

“Talk about what, Carmen?” you asked. “You’re not listening to me. Okay? What is there to talk about?”

“You let him all over you like that! Took a break just to spend time with him,” he sneered. “And-and he looked at you like you were his. You let him kiss you. You let him do things to you and you just fucking accepted it.”

“What?” you asked. “Lawrence and I grew up like that There’s nothing wrong with it,” you tried. You were probably being too defensive, not letting Carmy explain his side but you were hurt when he dismissed you just like that. When he let you go without a kiss. He just looked away when you were pleading with him. 

“So, you’d rather defend your old fucking friend instead of trying to fix this bullshit,” Carmen spits. “Heard,”

“What?” your heart dropped. “Bullshit?” The first tear falls like it was rehearsed. It broke your heart to hear Carmy call you relationship bullshit when you’ve spent the best days of your life with him. When you helped him through the nightmares…when he took care of you. “Bullshit, huh, Carmen?”

You couldn’t form a string of coherent sentences. Your mouth was agape, trying to process what he just said. Fix this bullshit. Fix this bullshit. You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from crying. 

Bullshit. It was when you stayed up late to make sure that he slept peacefully, threading your fingers in his golden hair so he could feel your presence. Bullshit. It was when you picked him up from some bar downtown because he decided to drink with Richie. Bullshit. It was when you sacrificed your days-off just so you could spend more time together. Bullshit. It was when he showed up on your first date with flowers that you pressed in between the pages of your favorite book. Bullshit. It was when Carmen told you that he loved you because you made him a burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit. It was ringing in your ear, breaking your heart in a million pieces. 

“Fuck, baby,” Carmen takes it back when you moved to walk towards the door. “I’m sorry— “

“Is that all it was to you?” you asked. “Bullshit? Is that why you dismissed me so coldly earlier? Because it’s bullshit?” Tears are on your face now and you wipe them away. “It’s bullshit, huh?”

“Baby…”

“Don’t,” you said. “Fuck, you’re so…so mean,” you said, crouching on the floor to shield yourself away from him. “I…I don’t know what I did wrong,” you whispered. “And I’m sorry if my actions hurt you but that’s how I grew up with Lawrence. I didn’t know that I was hurting you but, fuck,” you sobbed. “You’re so mean to me, Bear.” You didn’t mean it as an endearment, and he knew that.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, crouching down to your level. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, taking you in his arms. You didn’t want to fight back. “I’m sorry for-for doing that. For projecting my insecurities on you. I just…he has life figured out and I could never give you what he could give. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry,”

“I don’t want him,” you sniffled. “I’m with you, you know? Please…please, don’t call it bullshit. Because it’s not…for me, at least.”

“It’s not bullshit. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry for saying that. I’m so sorry,” he rambles sincerely. “You’re the best person that I’ve met. I love you. I love you so much that the thought of anyone else loving you drives me mad. I’m sorry,”

“You were mean to me,”

“I was, baby. I was,” he said. “I promise to stop myself from being mean. I’m so sorry. I don’t-don’t want to lose you. Please-please don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to leave you, Carmen.” you cooed, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Not that name, please. I’m just so fucking sorry for saying that and making you feel bad. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more considerate. I love you so much, Bear.”

“It’s my fault. All my fault,” 

“It’s not.”

“Can we-can we go to bed?” he asked, pulling away from you. You nodded. That night, when you were half-asleep, you felt his calloused hand caress your cheek. You’d never tell him, but you heard him. Loud and clear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You don’t know how much I love you and I’m sorry. I love you.”

A/N: No Carmen Berzatto taglist yet! Also, if you’re waiting for the Tommy Shelby fic, you might have a to wait a week more before I release it. I want to release a chapter every week and I haven’t written the second chapter for this week yet. Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments and reblogs :)

[freakingholland]

“The way to a gal’s heart is through her stomach.” - Jason Todd x fem!reader

A/N: Beep boop another Jason imagine, enjoy cuties <3

Warnings: not proofread, slightly suggestive content, swear words

Summary: Jason Todd is not only a superhero, he’s also a master of tomato soups. (fluff, domestic theme, slightly suggestive content)

Word count: 850 +

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

my wattpad archive is here

my AO3 archive is here

-

“NOOO, no no no I GOT THIS, SIT DOWN MA’AM” Jay said, waving his hands dramatically as if he was trying to shoo you away from the kitchen.

“Don’t raise your voice at me fucker!” you said snorting with laughter.

“Yes, ma’am BUT SIT DOWN PLEASE-- I GOT THIS LOVE!” Jay tilted his head and waited for your reaction giving you an innocent look.

“PLEASE! I GOT THIS!”

“Okay! Okay I will…” you said with your hands up, slowly turning away from your boyfriend. You were standing in the kitchen. You just got back home from work and were about to start making dinner for the both of you. However, Jason had other plans and was making sure that you wouldn’t lift your finger.

“Soooo, what do we have on the menu chef Todd?” Jason smirked as he saw you folding your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. He reached for an apron that was hanging near the stove.

His triceps rounded as he moved his hands behind his back to tie it on himself. They were pretty tightly squeezed by a short sleeve of his t-shirt. You were wondering whether he was purposefully flexing just to make you feel a certain way.

“I was thinking of a baked tomato soup. But-- I shall gladly fulfill my significant other’s…” he prolonged.

“-dining desires…as­-- it’s my personal wish to suffice her stomach.” His words made you shake your head with a growing smile. God. This guy’s eloquence is truly admirable. So is his charm. And his warmth despite the hardships that life had thrown at him.

“Sounds good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. Tomato soup it is.”

“How was work?” he continued.

“Could have been better honestly.  Collins had a problem again and decided to throw a fit at the end of the shift. Called in a meeting last minute just to scream his ass of for 20 minutes-- AS IF we could change anything.”

“Monica was late to pick up her son from preschool because of the asshole.” You continued your rant.

“Yeah, Collins has a knack for ruining everyone’s day,” Jay said, shaking his head as he rinsed his hands.

“It’s like the guy feeds off stress.”

“Exactly! And the worst part is, it’s not just me. Everyone’s been feeling it. EVEN Monica, who’s usually so calm, was on the verge of tears today. It’s just not fair.”

“Did she call you?” He asked.

“She texted me when I was entering our building.”

He shook his head no sympathizing with your work story.

“Ugh, I hate that for her. And for you,” Jay said, turning to face you. “You don’t deserve to deal with that crap every day.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a tired smile. “It’s just frustrating. I mean, we’re all trying our best, but Collins seems to think yelling at us is some sort of solution.”

“Man, I don’t know what to say… asshole’s pissing me off.” He licked his lips.

“And how is Jared doing?” Jay continued wanting to change the topic.

“He’s alright as far as I know.” You bit your lower lip.

“You know what? I actually thought about inviting them for dinner some time.” You said shyly.

Jay, still focused on the cutting board, looked up, noticing the slight hesitation in your tone.

“Why are you shying away like that?” he asked, with curiosity and concern in his voice as he turned to face you, pausing his chopping.

“Well, I wanna know-- if you’d have the energy and will to have guests over on your night off…?”

Jay walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He stepped away from the counters to kiss the top of your head as you were mentally supporting him in his cooking, watching from the tall bar stool.

“We can totally think about it, don’t worry about my energy.”

“I—Well I-- just didn’t want to overwhelm you--, you know? I know how hard you’ve been working lately, and I didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

Jay smiled, his eyes full of that familiar warmth that always made you feel at ease.

“I get it, and I really appreciate you looking out for me like that.”

“But honestly-- having them over might be just what we need. A break from the usual, a chance to relax, catch up with some good friends, and just enjoy each other’s company. It could be a lot of fun.” He continued.

„Plus, it would be a great opportunity to show off my cooking skills.” He said with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Yeeeaah right…”

“Yeah right what?” Jay looked over his shoulder, pretending to be offended.

“’Kay hear me out-- how about we make a deal? If I can whip up the best tomato soup you’ve ever had, you have to admit I’m the better cook.”

“And if it’s-- just, okay?” you teased, biting your lower lip playfully. Jay leaned in closer, his voice deepened.

“Then maybe I’ll have to find another way to prove I’m the best at… handling things.”

“I like your confidence, Todd.”

“And I—like you Y/L/N.”

-

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[p0orbaby]

Sous Chef

summary: the first time you call leah baby doesn’t go as you expected

warnings: a burn

a/n: short and sweet

word count: 746

-

There are many things in life that Leah is exceptionally good at. Football, obviously. Sudoku. She’d say singing, you love her to bits but exceptional is a stretch. Driving. Forehead kisses. Making cups of tea, essential.

She’s an all-rounder really. Your perfect multi-talented girl.

Who can’t cook.

Everyone has their flaws.

“You’re hovering”

“I’m not”

She was. You don’t even need to turn around to know she’d be standing a few feet behind you, spatula in hand ready to help if needed.

“You are, but it’s okay. Do you want to stir the sauce so it doesn’t burn while I grate the cheese?”

You don’t miss the smile that creeps across her face when you ask. And she nods enthusiastically as she shuffles towards the stove while you move around her to get what you need from the fridge.

As Leah sets to her task, you can’t help but smile at her eagerness to contribute, despite her admitted lack of culinary prowess. Her dedication to helping out in the kitchen is just one of the many reasons why you adore her so much. So, you continue to work in harmony, the clinking of utensils and the soft sizzle of food filling the air as you prepare the meal together.

But just as you’re about to reach for the cheese grater, you hear a sudden gasp of pain from Leah. Turning around, your heart sinks as you see her clutching her hand, a pained expression on her face.

“Baby, what happened?” you ask, rushing to her side in concern.

Leah grimaces, holding up her burned hand. “I- shit, I accidentally touched the pot,” she admits sheepishly, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

You gently take her hand in yours, inspecting the burn with a sympathetic frown. “Let’s get that under cold water,” you say softly, guiding her towards the sink.

As the water rushes over her reddened skin, you keep your hold on her hand, your thumb gently stroking the back of it. Leah winces, but her eyes are fixed on you, that same stubborn resolve you fell in love with flickering beneath the pain.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her voice small and embarrassed and you can’t help but fall for her even more.

You smile, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her forehead. “It’s alright. Happens to the best of us. Besides, you’re still the best sauce-stirrer I know”

Her laugh is light, a melody that momentarily fills the room with warmth despite her pain. “You mean the only sauce-stirrer you know”

You chuckle, turning off the tap and gently patting her hand dry with some kitchen roll. “Details, details. Now, let’s get some Savlon on this and bandage it up”

She follows you to the bathroom, her steps careful. Once you’ve dressed the burn, she leans into you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Thanks. And sorry for being so clumsy”

“Hey,” you say, lifting her chin with your finger so she’s looking at you. “You’re not clumsy at all. You’re my amazing, talented girl who’s learning something new. Cooking takes time, and you’re doing great”

Her eyes soften, a smile spreading across her face. “You always know what to say to make me feel better”

“Just telling the truth,” you reply, pressing another kiss to her forehead before leading her back to the kitchen.

This time, you work even closer together, your arms occasionally brushing as you move around the stove. Leah's concentration is intense, her tongue poking out slightly as she stirs the sauce with renewed caution. You can’t help but laugh softly at her adorable, determined focus.

Soon, the kitchen is filled with the rich aroma of your meal, and you can see the pride in Leah’s eyes as she watches the dish come together. Despite the little hiccup, she’s beaming, and you know that this is just another moment that strengthens the blossoming bond between you.

“See?” you say as you finish grating the cheese. “We make a pretty good team”

Leah’s smile widens, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yeah, we do”

And as you sit down to enjoy your food, Leah’s good hand gently resting on your leg under the table, you’re reminded once again of why you love her so much. It’s not just her talents or her determination; it’s her heart, her willingness to try and her unfailing support.

Everyone has their flaws, but in this moment, you realise they only make you love her more.

[zara-renata]

Sylus Qin, Girl Dad | masterlist

I keep seeing discussions of what Sylus would be like as the father to a daughter. So here's my take: a short story about Sylus being a dad to a teenage daughter. You can't tell me he doesn't respect the hell out of her and give her everything she wants. Sylus x fem reader, sylus x mc.

The kitchen is dark, except for the warm glow from the fireplace and the faint light drifting in through the floor to ceiling windows—twin nocturnal cityscapes, Linkon CIty and the heart of the N109 Zone replacing starlight, the blood red moon bleeding into white here at the border between light and dark, law and chaos, your world and his, where you and he have built a home overlooking both of your territories.

He’s sipping a glass of wine, lounging in one of the overstuffed armchairs near the open hearth, the fire crackling pleasantly. He’s scrolling auction listings, plotting what to give you for your upcoming anniversary. Nothing is good enough. Nothing is ever good enough, for you, his beloved. Every year, he fights the same battle—finding the perfect gift that’s worthy of his wife. This year is your twentieth. He swirls the wine, inhales its rich scent. He appreciates the warmth it sends through him with each sip, scowls at the inferior, the common, the unacceptable offerings available in the highest echelons of the antique market.

His thoughts are interrupted by quiet footsteps echoing in the marble hallway beyond the open kitchen door.

“Tiger?” He speaks softly, but his voice sounds loud in the quiet kitchen—the chef and staff are long gone for the evening. The footsteps pause.

“You’re up?”

A voice like rich, slow honey. A mix of Sylus’s own deep tone and his kitten’s sweet, steel-reinforced notes.

“Clearly,” he laughs, low. “Going somewhere?”

Finally, the vision of beauty that never fails to hijack the breath in his lungs appears in the kitchen doorway.

Sometimes he can’t quite believe it—that you forgot him, that he hurt you so terribly, that you let him near again, and in the end accepted him, all over again. That you reached back to him, finally, and offered your hand in return for his. That you said yes, at every turn. Yes, he could kiss you. Yes, he could court you. Yes, he could make love to you. Yes, he could marry you.

Yes, it’s a girl.

Yes, he could help raise the daughter you made, together. With all of his flaws. All of the violence in his hands, in his horns, his tail—you were still willing to let him hold the little mewling infant, the army-crawling roly-poly, the toddling chaos monster.

He could attend soccer games, school plays, choir concerts. He squinted at video tutorials on how to make brownies, cupcakes, for bake sales.

“I can just buy the school and fund anything they need,” he grumbled, trying to fish yet another eggshell out of the gooey batter.

“No, you can’t. That’s not the point of a bake sale, Sylus,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head on his broad back. “And where is our spawn? She’s supposed to help you with this as part of the educational value of this whole circus.”

He leaned back, soaking in your warmth, savoring the press of your body against his. “She stuffed herself full of cookie dough and passed out. I put her to bed.”

In response, you slipped your hands under the Kiss the Cook, pink frilly apron he wore every time he cooked. A gift from the twins, trying to both pester and help their boss get smooches while in the kitchen.

“And why can’t I buy the damn school? This is utterly inefficient,” he groused, as you slipped your hand under the waistband of his comfortable pants. He groaned. “And if you’re not careful, kitten, I’m never going to finish these in time for tomorrow if you keep doing that.”

“Mmm, there go your claims of being able to multitask.”

“I’ll gladly admit that my powers of multitasking fail when your clever hands are involved, beloved,” he said, trying to turn in your arms.

“Oh well. Another time then.” You had squeezed, once, firmly, just to let him know what he was missing, before sliding your hands from his pants and striding from the room to the sound of his complaints about poor business practices, not delivering what you promise, how is he supposed to focus on the recipe instructions with this situation in his pants, the one you caused?

The years passed, stacked, spread, and you still say yes to him, every day, except when you’re deliberately trying to torment him. He never dreamt he could be so happy, for so long. His happiness only compounds, expands, fills his chest to the point of pain as he sees his daughter standing in the hallway.

She lifts an eyebrow. Meets his snark with her own in answer to his question of if she's going somewhere: “Clearly.”

He tries to suppress his smile, the pride washing through him. “And where are you going at this time of night, tiger?”

“Guess,” she says, and he has the strange feeling of looking in a mirror, and looking at you, all at once. Her eyes, rubies glittering in the firelight. The spill of her hair, just like yours. The snark—from him? From you? Not that it matters, because his daughter is also wholly herself.

He tilts his head, pretends to think. “Out with friends? Or one friend in particular?”

She hums, drifts into the room. Her scent smells like home to him, in a similar way to how yours does, ever since he found you again, all those years ago, while also being threaded through with distinctly different perfume, shower gel, hair product.

“Both,” she answers, and sits on the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. She leans over, sniffs the wine in his hand. “Can I have a sip?”

“Why would I let you waste my wine, when the last time you tried it you said it tasted like depression juice,” he gripes, moving the wine glass away from her.

She pouts a little, shrugs. “You said it’s an acquired taste. How am I to acquire it if I don’t try it more than once?”

He sighs, indulges her. “One sip.”

She takes the glass by the stem, as he taught her, swirls it. Drinks. Scrunches her nose in an unbearably adorable way. “Nope, still shit.”

“You and your mother. Absolutely no refined palate,” he laments, enjoying how she just laughs at his feigned disappointment, just like you do.

She snorts. “I have a palate for actual yummy drinks.”

“And what do we do after each yummy drink, oh refined one?” he instructs in a way that makes her roll her eyes.

“A big glass of water. To ensure that I spend half the night waiting in line for the bathroom.”

“Maybe if you don’t want to spend half the night in the bathroom, drink less alcohol, tiger.”

“Yes, yes, thank you daddy.” She leans against him, rests her head on his shoulder, looks at his tablet. “Anniversary present?”

He grunts in affirmation.

“You know she’s just happy to spend time with you. You don’t need to outdo yourself, every year.”

“Just because she’s satisfied with the bare minimum, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve the universe served on a platter.”

“She says the same about you. You’re both gross,” she laughs.

“Take notes, tiger. Never settle for anyone who doesn’t treat you as well as I treat your mother.”

“Ah, yes, and should I take notes on your pride and arrogance, too, daddy?”

He smirks at his heart leaning against his shoulder. He had no idea his heart was so big, that it could encompass both you, and another whole other person, until his little girl came along. Along with the all-encompassing love, comes the terror. His heart, walking around in two different bodies, out in the world. Yours. His daughter’s. “If it helps. You’re your mother’s daughter—you’re entitled to be as arrogant as you like, treasure.”

“Noted.” Her tone is long-suffering, but pleased. “Can I go now?”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He flicks a gaze to her short skirt, knee-high boots. The black and red corset cinching her lovely frame.

She sits up, kisses his cheek. “Yes. Problem?”

He sighs. “You know what you’re doing. Where people are looking, when you’re dressed like that.”

She sniffs, looks bored. “Good thing I don’t wear it for anyone else, but for me. They can look all they like.”

He understands dressing to one’s own tastes. To standing out, being the center of attention based on flashy apparel. “You know what to do, if anyone does anything that makes you uncomfortable? Including your particular friend?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Tell them to stop.”

“And if they don’t?” He suppresses the murderous rage at the very idea that someone would disrespect his daughter in such a way.

“Explode their balls with my evol,” she intones, having endured this conversation with her overprotective father more times than she can count.

“And then?” he prompts, pleased.

“Call you, Uncle Aidan, Uncle Luke, and Uncle Kieran,” she sing-songs, getting to her feet. Getting ready to make her escape.

“And if the cops show up before your uncles, or me?”

“I will not answer any questions without my attorney present,” she mocks her father’s deep voice, his bored rhythm of speech.

“And you’ll keep your phone on at all times?”

“Yes, daddy,” she humors him. “And if I do anything that I know will piss you off or scare mama, I’ll still call you to come save me, and you promise you won’t be mad at me.”

“Oh, I’ll be mad, but you’re still just a kid, it would be absurd for us to expect you never to make a mistake.” He suppresses another smile at her scowl. She looks so much like you, sometimes. It hurts his heart, in the best possible way. “Your safety is more important than anything else. We can always discuss consequences later.”

“Okay, okay. I promise to call you even if I know you’re going to be unhappy. Can I go now?”

He looks at her, memorizes her face, the curve of her cheek, admires the intelligence, the humor in her bright, sparkling eyes. It scares the shit out of him, every time she walks out of his sight. He wants to protect her, in the same way he still wants to protect you, from the entire weight of the cruel universe, from all the vagaries of foul humanity. But he read that it’s important for teenagers to feel that their parents trust them, to try out what it feels like to be independent, with a safety net waiting below. He’ll tolerate the terror, for the sake of his precious daughter. With safety measures in place, of course.

“Have fun, treasure.” He releases her, watches as she walks with the defiant confidence of a teenager to the door, secure in her knowledge that she’s already all grown up, that she’s older beyond her years, that her parents just worry too much. His heart feels like it’s going to burst in his chest when she turns, smiles at him.

“Love you, daddy.” 

And then she’s gone, not waiting for his answer, because she already knows. One thing he has done right, in all of his lifetimes—one sin he will never commit. His daughter has never, ever had a reason to question how much he adores her.

He sips his wine. Turns his gaze toward the window, sees his own reflection in the glass. His own reflection, with his eyes that are no longer just his own, but the eyes of his daughter looking back at him.

“You vetted her new guy, right?” The voice of Sylus’s beloved interrupts his thoughts. He turns, sees you pointing at your own right eye, ensuring that her husband had ransacked the depths of her daughter’s suitor’s soul before letting her out the door tonight.

He smirks. “I might have paid a visit to his part time job when she first mentioned him."

“And he’s okay?” You stride over to him, slip into his lap. Take the wine glass from his hand, sip. Because you know that everything of his, is yours, and always has been. He wraps his arms around your waist, inhales the scent of your skin, your lovely hair.

“He’s a good kid,” he admits. “Not good enough for her. But good enough for her to toy with, if she likes.”

“And the app on her phone?” You ignore his cynicism, intent on ensuring that all precautions are in place. You worry about your daughter, as much as he does. Your daughter has no idea, however, that you’re the scary one out of her two parents. If someone dares fuck with your baby girl, they’ll have to face her mother’s wrath. Sylus would just kill them—quietly, efficiently. Problem solved. 

You would take your time with them.

He loves you so fucking much.

Which is why he instructs his daughter to call him and her uncles, and not you. Sylus is a practical man. There is simply no need to have to break his beloved out of jail for the gruesome murder of some handsy asshole when Sylus can make a corpse disappear with the snap of his fingers.

“Tracking as we speak,” he assures you.

“And the twins?”

“Already on their way to remain at a discrete distance on standby in case she calls.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, finally satisfied. You rest your head where his daughter just rested hers. What use are such wide, strong shoulders, after all, if not for cushioning the precious head of his beloved and his treasured child?

“No, thank you” He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the size of his gratitude. “For doing all the hard work. Making her. Raising her to carry your goodness inside her. For saying yes.”

You just laugh a little at his uncharacteristic speech. Lift your head. “You were very persuasive, in the end. You can thank yourself, for making me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“And what offer was that, beloved?”

“You,” you sigh. “Everything that you are, and ever will be.”

He sniffs. “You were always a poor negotiator, compared to the swindlers in the N109 Zone. Seems like I got the better end of the deal.”

You roll your eyes, and he sees his daughter in your face. “For someone with such a good eye for fine things, you’ve never been able to see the value in the mirror,” you tease. “But that’s all right. You’re arrogant enough already.” You’ll never understand how Sylus has always managed to be so proud, arrogant, and yet so vulnerable at the same time. 

You love him so much, for all of his complexity.

He takes the wine glass from you. Sets it next to the armchair.

“With our treasure out of the house, we’re alone right now,” he whispers into your ear. You shiver. After all these years, his voice still sends excitement along your skin, your spine. “How about I remind you why I’m so arrogant, until she gets home?”

You turn your head, kiss him softly. His lips are still so soft. He tastes like warm wine, like home. “Another offer I can’t refuse.”

He doesn’t need any other answer as he lifts you in his arms, carries you down the long marble halls, lays you down on the big bed you share.

He makes good on his offer. Sylus has always kept his word, from the very beginning, after all.

You daughter makes it home just fine later that night, as you're sleeping soundly. As Sylus reads a book next to you, one hand drifting absentmindedly up and down your bare back, waiting up for her footsteps. He experiences relief, a restored sense of wholeness when he hears them echoing down the hall.

No homicide necessary.

[bucknastysbabe]

Babes, I was thinking, dom! Bucky and reader where his dumb ass doesn’t give her aftercare and then she’s upset. Later, his ass brings it around and makes her feel better. I go feral for aftercare in fics because I’m secretly a little bitch and need reassurance. The raunchier the smut the better. I’m a whore. Love you, babes 😚

HI BUCKYBUDDY MWAH MWAH LUV U💋💋Less get intewww it! I haven’t written a dom buck in ages and then angst and fluffy fluff after??? *chefs kiss* As always thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy this, imma put my whole freak nasty abilities into the raunchy, then my soft baby into the fluff. I too need some reassurance bc I’m actually a huge baby🤣

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dom!Bucky barnes, Dom/sub, Bucky is an idiot, pnv!sex, bad bdsm etiquette, sub drop, hurt/comfort, big dick bb, fluff n smut n angst, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), safe words, anxiety/negative self talk/depression

Your lover was in a mood, not necessarily angry but aggravated. He initiated the little playtime scene, coming home and growling, “Can’t catch a fucking break. Need my little girl to help me let off some steam.” His broody eyes roved over your reclined form, clad in skimpy shorts and a little tank top.

You couldn’t deny your sexy, fucking gorgeous man. A rough fuck would be good for him, and nothing was better than getting your pussy goddamn murdered by his cock. You instantly acquiesced, reminding baby of your safe words.

No time was wasted, Buck hauled you to bedroom, landed a sharp smack on your ass along the way. Clothes shredded, some haphazardly thrown, boots flung so hard the lamp rattled as he kneeled on the bed. You stared with wide eyes, unsure of what next considering how fast the situation was moving along.

“Get it wet baby, you know what to do, staring at me like some fuckin’ virgin,” the brunette snarked.

Crawling forward— you gripped his girth, lapping and enveloping the tip. Buck’s vibranium hand wound itself in your ponytail, yanking with a snarl, “Deeper baby, c’mon now.” He was lucky you had a lack of a gag reflex, tucking your lips and swallowing him down. He groaned in ecstasy, head falling back as he cursed, “Good little slutty girl, that’s it.”

You breathed through your nose as he murmured, “Gonna fuck that tight throat of yours.” Your lids fluttered at the feeling, lips stretched tight around his thick cock, throat full, the salty taste of pre-cum wetting your tongue.

His heavy balls slapped your chin as you gripped strong thighs, your lover grunting and keeping your head still with that metal hand, fucking ruthlessly. Tears sprung to your eyes, pussy throbbing and leaking. Bucky groaned again, pulling you off his dick, wet and messy.

All you could do was gasp and whimper, drool falling from your swollen lips. He smiled darkly, caressing your reddened face with big hands. Bucky cooed, “You’re so damn pretty.” He seized your lips, wet smacks filling the quiet room. You instinctively moved to your back, legs spread for him.

Buck tutted between kisses, “Nuh-uh, on your belly.” You whimpered sadly as he gave one more kiss, those huge hands of his flipping your frame over, pulling your hips up in a quick jerk. He palmed a breast roughly, pulling at your stiff bud, so sensitive you couldn’t help but mewl.

Another hand thumbed your swollen cunt, laughing, “So wet for me. Sweet pretty slut, get your mouth around some cock and you’re wetting the sheets.” He thumbed your clit with a slick thumb, grinning sharply at the whine of his name. You warbled, “C’mon baby, fuck me, I helped you out.”

A yank of your ponytail brought his lips close to you, nipping at your earlobe, muscled body pressed to you. Bucky rumbled, “Can you be patient sweetie? I asked if you’d help me let off some steam and here you are making demands like an entitled bitch.”

He pinched your clit, forcing a yowl out your lips. Your boyfriend nestled his cock against your swollen folds, rutting playfully slow. Bucky asked, false sweetness lacing his tone, “You gonna’ shut your mouth and let me do my thing?”

Yank. Nip. Slap.

“Y-yessir, Bucky, I’ll be good now, m’sorry.”

“Good girl.”

He shoved his cock in with no preamble, filling your pussy to the brim with a filthy squelch. Bucky’s hands faltered at your hips, breath stuttered and harsh, he grunted, “Fucking hell, god your pussy— hah, fucking tight.” He took a moment to steady his knees, effectively caging your own in.

“Arch,” he commanded. You did so, pressing your lower body to the bed, whining, “S’big.” He patted your ass and claimed cockily, “I know, slutty hole like yours can take it.” More tears leaked, he was on one today. You couldn’t deny the sweet pleasure and the mean words, made you throb that much harder.

His hands possessively splayed up your back, clasping them upon your shaking shoulder. The force of his thrust shoved you forward into the mattress with a muffled cry. Bucky’s hips clapped against your ass, brutally fucking you open. All you could do was drool and keen his name and other nonsense.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, pussy weeping and convulsing around Bucky’s huge cock. It dragged against your ridged insides, nudged your sweet spot, battered your cervix. Nothing was spared when your lover filled you up, feeling like he was in your belly. The soldier was grunting and moaning deeply, smacking a vibranium hand across your ass. He sped up his movements, beginning to pant. Bucky asked, “Good little slut, always such a good hole for me.”

You babbled, “Yes, yes, always, just for you!”

He rewarded you with a hand to your engorged clit, working it the way that made your legs shake— like they weren’t already jello. Bucky hauled you up with his free hand, using his strength to keep your overstimulated body aloft.

“Y’gonna cream on my big cock doll? I can feel ya’ squeezing me. Pussy’s jus’ begging for me to fill it up. Fucking hungry for it, you’re such a nympho for me.”

You were crying and shaking, nerves alight, pussy unbearably sensitive. You sobbed his name over and over, skin too hot and your clit shooting fire up into your belly. Buck cried out your name when you stiffened head to toe, core clamping down on him, gushing slick all over his still pumping dick.

You mewled and whimpered, falling limp, weak hands still gripping the sheets. Bucky managed longer, overstimulating your abused pussy. He didn’t last as far as you feared, leaning over your frame to mouth at the nape of your neck as he pumped you full of cum. So much cum it flooded your channel, spilling out and onto the bed.

Bucky had intense orgasms courtesy of the serum. He’d inhale sharply, shuddering as his overfull balls emptied for what felt like years. He leaned back up and pulled out with a soft noise, watching your ruined cunt with a smirk.

He got up to get a towel to wipe his dick off, coming back to get you clean. Bucky was pulling on his jeans now. You turned to ask, voice still slurred from your fuzzy brain, “Where’ya going Buck?”

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and replied, “Gotta meet up with Sam, won’t be longer than an hour. I’ll be back, why don’t you grab a hot bath, I’ll bring back something to eat for you?”

A dreadful feeling consumed you. Bucky was busy, you didn’t need to whine for him to stay around. You rasped, “Can you get me a water bottle?” He nodded and padded off, returning with the cool water, handing it over with a kiss to your forehead. You struggled with words, scared to start bawling. Bucky always took care of you after an intense session. The mean ones.

He laced up his boots and slung on a jacket, blue eyes turning back as he stated, “Won’t be long I promise, ‘kay babydoll? Text me if you need anything.” You nodded while sipping the water, watching his familiar walk leave the room.

You flopped back onto the rumpled bed, body and cunt sore from the rough play. Emotions began to well up out of nowhere— embarrassment, loneliness, sadness. What if Bucky really meant all that he said?

Just a hole for him to fuck. Easy slut for easy access. You stifled a sob and failed. Everything felt like shit. You shivered from the intense anxiety, too struck to do anything but get under the mussed covers, mind whirling to all the worst places.

God. What if he told Sam about how wanton and loud you were, baring your neck at the slightest snap of Bucky’s fingers. You sobbed some more, grabbing a pillow to hold. It smelled like him, comforting, then sickening.

Managing to crawl out of bed you walked on jelly legs to the large bathtub, sprinkling the lavender epsom salt. Something to abate the cold. You ended up sobbing more and shaking in the tub. The need to call Bucky was heightening, but your brain whispered, “He’s busy, you’d be bothering him, just fuck off.”

Eventually the water got cold and you stepped out, body less achy. Drying off and slipping on this fleece hoodie thing your friend gifted you felt somewhat comforting. You didn’t want to get back in the ruined bed.

Instead the couch and a fluffy blanket would do. The water bottle and phone instinctively came with you. You blankly stared out the window, petting Alpine, still fucking shedding tears. The fluffy white cat seemed to sense your bad mood, curling up on your belly, purring.

Your phone sat on the table, annoyingly catching your interest. With an irritated huff you finally grabbed it. There was missed calls from Bucky, a couple of texts from him too. Even Sam had sent something.

Sliding open the phone you read the texts.

“At the Thai place, the usual?”

“You’re probably sleeping but I got Pad See Ew anyways.”

“You okay doll?”

“Hello?”

Then there was three missed calls. You made to dial back, spirits lifted a bit. The sound of the door busting open startled you. Alpine jumped, skittering off. A bewildered Bucky was making a beeline toward you, thick brows pulled together. The takeout bag was left on the ground. He grabbed you up and placed you onto his lap, placing fervent smooches all over your face.

The show of affection made you bawl again. Bucky’s warm flesh hand rubbed circles on your back. He murmured gently, “Babydoll, m’so sorry, I should’ve just cancelled the plans. Sam told me to go home and pull my head out my ass when I wouldn’t stop checking my phone.”

He looked so worried, babbling apologies, pulling you even closer into his frame. You sniffled, “I don’t know what happened, usually you stick around, then I got all s-sad.” Swallowing heavily you continued, “M’not just some whore to you am I? Everything’s s-so-so mixed uh-up. In my head.”

Bucky sighed, “Oh my love, no, no, you’re everything to me. I didnt communicate, forgot about aftercare— sweetheart I can’t live without you. Breaking my heart baby. Can’t believe I just left my doll all alone like that.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his scruffy neck, letting out the rest of your emotions. Bucky cooed and coddled you, planting kisses on the crown of your head. He murmured, “Let it out, you still got some dinner and cuddles.”

Your breathing evened out enough to reply with a teary smile, “Okay, yeah, I am hungry.” Bucky somehow carried you around like a koala while he fed you the noodles, then ice cream, and more water. You felt better by the second, growing sleepy in his big arms.

“I love you baby doll, don’t ever think I don’t,” he swore.

“I love you too. So much. But we need to sleep in the guest room.”

The pair of you chuckled, sharing sweet kisses as the big softie carried you to the direction of the other bed. He gently laid you down, more lovey nonsense and kisses adorning the movement. Bucky climbed under the covers, pulling your body close to his. You fell asleep feeling warm and loved.

He might be a bit of a dumbass, but god if he didn’t make up for it.

[spellboundtales]

FIC REC - the Wolverine

had to make this, because my obsession with this man is unbelievable

🩰 hurt/comfort

🧸Fluff

🦋angst

🌺smut

🩰🧸🌺This is Ours by @d1stalker || reader spends the summer at her grandparent's farm but they hired a new farmhand: Logan. slowburn and feelings arise!! when i tell you this was one of my fav fics EVER.....

🧸a little redecorating by @halohalona || reader in the middle of the night decides to rearrange the living room, Logan helps her. very domesticc and fluffy, this melt my heart

🩰🧸say yes to heaven by @happy74827 || Grumpy!Logan x Sunshsine!Reader OMG when i tell you I CRIED AND MY HEART WAS HEALED reading this....

🩰🧸🌺ice breaker by @happy74827 || Logan saves reader's life, the aftermath results in a lot of feelings and...getting really warm. I ADORED THIS

🩰🧸snapdragons mean i'm sorry by @thebestandworstdayofjune || reader owns a flowershop and is friend with Wade and Logan, everything's great until reader hears Logan saying something...

🌺GUILTY PLEASURE by @joelsgoldrush || bartender!reader meets worst!Logan. guys when i tell you this is amazing...

🦋🩰🌺GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE BY @joelsgoldrush || sequel to Guilty pleasure, just perfect.

🩰🌺Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by @imaginedisish || Logan's alwaye being friendly with reader...maybe there's more than some friendly gestures...?

🩰Breathless by @i5uckersblog || Reader has a sudden health scare and Logan is there to help. I LOVED THIS

🧸the kids waking you up in the morning by @fandomxo00 || this healed me.

🧸holding hands with Logan by @ohtobeleah || this is so short and sweet, i cried

🧸this headcanon by @witchyy-kittyy ||it's just pure fluff with a bf!Logan

🧸pretty in pink by @starkwlkr || so sweet dad!Logan for his daughter's birthday party. guess what? i cried reading this

🧸it's a gift (you keep those) by @celestiamour ||giving Logan a plushie that reminds you of him. THIS IS SO SWEET DRDXCFGVBHJG

🩰🧸Logan meeting reader's parents by @boltwrites || Logan meets reader's parents...what will happen?

🧸just the two of us by @starkwlkr || some domestic Logan, very sweet

🌺Inside Out by @@imaginedisish || post intense battle with Logan...this had me on my knees

🌺Lover, you should've come over by @imaginedisish || pining after Logan with the convinction he's obsessed with Jean..or maybe he's not?

🩰🧸🌺Time After Time by @hyper-fixates || 4 times reader is in Logan's bed plus 1 time he finally goes for it

🌺What's That Smell? by @slushycoookie || Wade meddling with Reader and Logan's sexual life..also wade gifting reader Pheromone Perfume and Logan losing it

🌺Honey - Honey II - Honey III by @bpmiranda || Sunshine!readerr with smalla town reclusse!Logan...omg this short series had me squeaking and giggling...toe curling smut.

🦋🩰🌺Keep Up! by @iggyywrites || neighbour!Reader is friend with Wade... with a huge crush on Logan. this is a rollercoaster of emotions i sweare i loved every single word. also the wade's characterization? chef kiss

🌺older by @lostalioth || reader calls Logan old, and he's determined to show her he's not

🦋🩰🌺from eden by @eupheme || old man logan x mutant!reader...this is just...perfect. read it.

🦋🩰🌺never is a promise by @joelsgoldrush || old man logan x charles' caretaker reader. slow burn, misunderstadings, smut...OMYGOD THIS!!!

🌺the Devil and I by @mystra-midnight || this is an hymn to smut.

🩰🧸taste by @poorly-written-fiction || ex boyfriend logan??? he's with jean but his kisses taste like...you... GOD THIS!!

🧸Magnetic by @reddesires || does magnets stick on Wolverine? let's find out! this is so funny i swear-

🌺burning slow by @eupheme || this is a logan x inexperienced reader this is so sweet, i need him now.

🩰🌺loving him was never enough by @wyniepooh || cagefighter!Logan? sign me up.

🩰🌺shouldn't have by @atrwriting || reader has a really shitty boyfriend, thank god Logan saves the day (in more ways than one)

🩰second nature by @d1stalker || reader is saved by Logan who then takes her in. feelings arise, but so will misunderstandings.

🧸Suspension Bridge Effect by @d1stalker || reader saves another mutant who now is in love with her...Logan is slightly jealous

🌺Marks by @bpmiranda || reader is running away from Sabertooth, and Logan helps her out... the smut here....chills

🩰🌺sweet like honey by @bruhstories || baker reader and Logan saving her...he likes to go to his favorite bar that happens to be across reader's bakery

alright lovelies, my wolverine's obssession is not over so i'll prob update thisss (also i still need to read some Old Man Logan fics.. soo i'll keep you update)

have a loooovely day, week, month, year💐🌷

kisses😽😽😽

[chelseeebe]

too sweet (for me) p2

lines begin to blur between his two lives, eddie feels hopeless at any semblance of keeping you away from that side of him. how does he fair when murray drags you kicking and screaming into this world?

a/n: so perhaps this is a little dramatic and very soap opera-esque but it was so much fun to write! i have a little thing i’d like to write for a part 3 but it is very much domesticity and sadness so we’ll see hehe <3

read part one here.

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of drugs and crime references throughout. eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie lingers over your shoulder, catching glimpses of him in the mirror as you fluff your hair and pucker your lips. he likes to sit and watch you get ready, just like how he used to watch his mom when he was much younger.

“so where are you going tonight?” he queries, a hint of territoriality about his question.

you shrug, swiping the lipgloss over your lips, “probably ace’s.. i don’t know yet,” meeting his eyes through the mirror.

admittedly, it had been a tough few weeks. he shut down for a few days, restricted to his bed as you cleaned up the mess he brought home. you were just grateful to have eddie back, the colour slowly coming back to his face thanks to your gentle love.

“i’ll take you,” arms snaking around your waist, “unless you wanna stay?” peppering kisses to your neck, the sweet scents of your overzealous sprits of perfume overwhelming his nose.

you giggle, though you make zero effort to shake him off, “i’m going,” wrapping your hand around his arm to keep it from travelling any further up your dress.

a tiny sense of guilt hits your chest, he was still shaken by whatever had happened. you’d practically moved yourself into his apartment, taking care of him for weeks. he’d rarely been alone since the day he’d stumbled in here with bloody hands and a newfound stammer.

“okay,” he relents, “what time do you think you’ll be done? i’ll come and get you,” face nestled into the crook of your neck.

you wouldn’t put it past him to just wait outside for hours, ready and waiting to see you again.

“why don’t you just come? i’m sure the girls won’t mind.”

he shakes his head, planting one last kiss to your shoulder before letting go, “no no.. you have fun,” nodding, as if to assure himself that he’d be fine.

eddie drives you right to the door, ignoring the disgruntled bouncers trying to get him to move. “don’t do anything stupid, i’ll be here when you’re ready,” squeezing your knee as you gather your bag from the floor.

you lean over the leather console, pecking his lips, leaving a small smudge of glittery gloss as you go.

“yessir.. love you,” before clambering out of the car, knowing smile plastered across your face as the door shuts.

there had been a sense of uncertainty about saying it, though you’d felt it for a short while now. only solidified by the last couple of weeks and the newfound upset you felt to be leaving him. it was like all your feelings were merged into one, dread bundled together with excitement. a scary but otherwise comforting feeling.

he immediately rolls your window down, leaning forward to catch you properly, “what? what’d you say?”

you shrug, scampering off into the queue as he watches, mouth hung open in sheer shock.

what you didn’t know was that eddie had been toying with the same sentiment, adamant to not scare you away but otherwise desperate to tell you.

he pulls off, beaming from ear to ear, counting down the seconds until he sees you again.

-

you perch on the marble countertop, legs swinging as eddie accidentally brushes past for the thousandth time, hand lingering on your thigh for a few seconds too long. the pot threatening to boil over if he keeps neglecting it in lieu of you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” he asks, resuming his position at the stovetop.

he’d carefully perfected his little chef routine, throwing god knows what into the pan as if he had any clue what he was doing.

“i just can’t believe that you’re cooking for me.. have you ever even used this kitchen before?” chuckling at him, wishing he had gone all out and worn an apron.

“what the hell are you talking about? i cook all the time,” smooth talking, attempting to distract you from the near burnt pan of food in front of him.

“i don’t believe you,” you tease, glancing wearily at your supposed dinner. knowing damn well that he’d be on his way to pick something up in the next half an hour.

he leaves his station, faux-angry stare on his face as he leans on your knees, “you won’t be having any of this if you’re gonna keep being rude.”

the buzzer interrupts before you can insult his skill, or lack thereof, any longer.

eddie frowns towards the door, “i’ll get it,” trying hard to palm the cooking onto you.

“no no,” you hop down from the counter, “you try not to burn anything else and i’ll get it,” already out of the kitchen before he can protest.

the door opens to a man you’ve never seen before, glasses and crazy hair accompanying his toothy grin. those two goons eddie has to babysit sometimes are stood behind, looking as foolish as ever with their hands over their chests.

“ah! just the woman i wanted to see,” he beams, pointing into the apartment, “can i come in?”

“i’m sorry- who are you?”

but before the maniacal man can answer, eddie begins from behind, “let him in,” voice full of regret, you had wished you’d never hear it again.

you open the door wider, watching as they file in to the apartment. dumb and dumber barely able to walk on their own two feet without tripping over each other.

your eyes meet eddie’s but you can’t place whatever it is he’s trying to say. a look of warning maybe, hesitance and slight fear in his usually soft eyes. you’d figured it was something to do with his work, maybe the scene you had walked into those few weeks ago.

“have a seat,” the man smiles, gesturing towards the sofa.

they sit strategically, boxing you into the empty seat in between those two idiots. forcing you apart, a twisted mind game you wanted no part of.

eddie looks wracked with worry, sitting in the empty seat next to the other man. you want to jump up, order them to leave and do this some other time.

“i’m murray,” the man announces, staring right into your soul, “i work with eddie here.. for.. what is it? seven years now?” thumping eddie on the back.

he nods, chewing on his lower lip, choosing to stare at the floorboards rather than you, which stings a little.

“anyway! i didn’t come to small talk, i’m sure you two are very busy with whatever it is you young people do in your free time,” murray scrunches his nose, returning his heavy gaze to you. “i have a problem, you see, i’m a salesman, i sell things and to sell things, i have to get my product to different places,” nodding along with his words.

your eyes flit between him and eddie, figuring out exactly what he was asking.

“so,” he begins again, leaning forward, elbows pressed to his knees, “i need you to take it there,” not looking at eddie or either of the two losers beside you.

you. he was looking at you.

eddie interjects, “no, absolutely not,” jaw clenched taut, his fists balled by his sides.

“i didn’t ask you,” murray spits back.

you can see eddie’s chest heaving, anger bubbling through his body.

“where?”

their eyes fall back to you, eddie blinking rapidly. it’s like he can’t believe you’d ever agree to something so stupid.

“well all you’d have to do is take.. a bag down to.. mexico.”

“-mexico?” eddie interrupts again, jumping forward in his seat.

murray’s face turns to confusion, “is that not what i said? jeff! is that not what i said?”

jeff nods along, “that’s what you said,” like a creepy puppet doll, obeying his master.

“she can’t.. mexico, murray? that’s too far-”

“and why can’t she, eddie?” turning to face your boyfriend, a stern glare plastered firmly on his face, “i’m not hearing any objections from her, so what’s your problem?”

eddie looks up, catching your eye, chewing on the inside of his cheek. he’s swallowing whatever objection he has contained on his tongue. but you’re not stupid.

you either do this or your life gets very complicated, you’d seen enough movies to know that men like murray don’t fuck around.

“okay,” you say meekly, holding eddie’s gaze in hope that he’ll understand, that he knows you well enough now to know that you’re agreeing for both of your sakes.

“great,” murray beams, “my cousin has an apartment down there, you can stay a few days.. enjoy the scenery, whatever i don’t care,” ignoring eddie’s huffs of defiance.

you don’t remember a lot of what he says next, talking about the drop and other insignificant details. eddie volunteers to head down before you, wait for you in mexico to ensure everything goes to plan, which you appreciate.

they get up to leave while you’re still sat weighing up your decision and how badly this could end. eddie walks them to the door, glad to see them gone.

murray yanks him out of the door, tight grip onto his arm, “you wanna buy her a nice shiny ring?” glowering directly into his face, “or a big house so you can knock her up a couple’a times before you give this all up? hmm?”

eddie swallows, adams apple bobbing nervously in his throat. but nods, because he does want that. it’s all he’s wanted since he met you.

“then you’ll do whatever i tell you to do, okay?” face only mere inches away, “this is how you get those things.”

eddie doesn’t say a word as he stomps back in, heading straight for his bedroom without so much as a glance toward you.

his cold shoulder cuts deep, wedging a lump into your throat. you did this for him, for both of you. it wasn’t as if you had much choice between going to mexico or losing eddie.

you creep into the silent room what felt like hours later, heart aching for just a hint of reassurance.

he’s sat on the bed, facing the window, back to the door. you don’t want to startle him but feel absolute desperation to talk to him.

“eddie?” speaking quietly into the room.

he sighs, shoulders relaxing at the sound of your voice.

“i’m sorry if i said the wrong thing.. i was just trying to help,” blinking away the sharp tears threatening to spill.

you linger in the doorway, wary of the thick cloud of tension that had settled over the apartment.

“i’m not.. angry at you,” standing at last, turning to face after an eternity apart. he slinks over, ashamed of his own actions, he had never wanted to make you feel like this. “i didn’t want you to get involved in all this shit,” shaking his head as he walks over, throwing his arms around your sunken shoulders, “i don’t wanna lose you.”

you rest your cheek on his chest, slinging your arms tight around his waist, “you’re not going to,” and you meant it.

- eddie’s pov -

eddie has nearly thrown up at least twenty times since he’d left you for the airport.

he was going to land in mexico a couple hours before you hopefully arrived.

the plane journey is long, his only thoughts being you. if you were safe. if you’d made it onto the plane or not. watching the clock, waiting to just land and be one step closer to knowing.

murray had swindled his friend into letting you stay at his place for a few days, a large villa not too far from the airport. it’s warm and he’s sweating through his clothes, dumping his bag on the floor without a care in the world.

stepping out onto the balcony and lighting a cigarette whilst simultaneously trying his hardest not to hyperventilate. you should be on the plane by now, somewhere 3000 miles above, safe and sound.

squishing all of the echoing thoughts of what if or the images of you in a cell somewhere in mexico. it does nothing for the churning in his stomach, tossing the half-finished cigarette off into the distance somewhere.

eddie is restless, buzzing around the house as he waits rather impatiently for you to waltz through the door.

you should be here by now. the blazing sun finally setting in the sky, though he’s still sweating.

the clock ticks loudly, as if it were taunting him. every second you’re not here, he descends further into his despair, heart pounding as he paces the creaking floorboards.

a short wrap at the door makes him jump but he wastes no time in answering it, throwing the door open to find a strangely docile and calm version of you. polar opposite to how he had spent the last few hours.

“oh my god,” breathing a sigh of relief, unable to stop himself from lifting you from the ground, spinning around the warm evening air as you shriek.

you’re still elevated when he puckers his lips, attacking any skin he could get ahold of. a chorus of high pitched squeals and giggles coming from above, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“put me down,” you order, whacking him on the back, right between the shoulder blades.

he does as he’s told, still clinging onto your waist, fearing you’ll just slip away again. he felt a thousand pounds lighter, to see you, hold you again after only a few hours.

“you’re okay? how was it? did anyone stop you?” going a million miles at once, keeping you at arms length as he examines your face.

“it was fine,” you chuckle, your nonchalance a little unsettling, “nobody even looked at me,” shrugging your shoulders as if you hadn’t just smuggled a kilo of cocaine over the border.

“jesus christ,” eddie exhales, cupping your cheek in his hand, “you’re not doing that again, i’ll kill him if he asks,” he thinks he might just kill him anyway. his heart had nearly given out a hundred times, hell would freeze over before he ever let murray do something so stupid again.

“okay okay,” you brush past eddie, fed up already of his incessant coddling, marvelling at the view outside the apartment.

he slings your bag over his shoulder, joining you at the window, “nice, isn’t it?” knocking his elbow gently into your side.

he’d already envisioned how he would have you bent over the balcony later.

“let’s go out tonight,” looking toward him with your sparkly eyes, “i want to celebrate not getting arrested.”

eddie’s head lulls to the side, trying to hide his disappointment. “do we have to?” grabbing your waist to pull you closer, brazenly attempting to get you to stay here.

“yes,” you order, palms flat on his chest, “if you love me, you’ll go.”

-

you’re squished into the tiny booth, legs draped over eddies thighs as people come and go all around. he’s not interested in anything else going on in the busy bar, just you.

sharing lazy kisses between drinks, his hand resting on your thigh, ever so slowly inching upwards.

eddie hadn’t even wanted to leave the house, hoping you’d spend three days fucking your way around the furniture.

instead, you’d somehow convinced him to go out. though he couldn’t resist when you stepped out with that tiny dress on, sitting perfectly on your hips.

your nose brushes against his, breathing in the thick air that sat between you. the room could very well be ablaze right now, but eddie wouldn’t even notice. too consumed with you, palming at the inside of your thigh as his eyes gaze into yours.

“‘m gonna get a drink,” he breathes, squeezing your thigh before shifting your legs back to the floor.

he dares to look back when he reaches the bar, eyes immediately drawn to the six foot something adonis now lingering by the booth.

eddie wasn’t particularly jealous or insecure, secure in the fact that you were his and nothing would change that. but he couldn’t help but let a little envy seep into his eyes.

a fire burning in his stomach at the sight of you chittering away to this stranger. you weren’t a stranger to attention, not one to shy away. so why should you now?

he grits his teeth on the walk back over, grip tightening around the glasses, prepared to smash them over this pricks head.

“who’s this?” painting on his fakest smile, sliding back into the booth next to you.

you glance at eddie, just long enough for him to see that terrible glint in your eye. preparing for trouble.

“this is..” reaching out for the strangers arm, “sorry, what was your name again?” batting your lashes, an act eddie was used to and yet, still detested.

“alejandro,” the man purrs, taking your hand in his.

eddie resists the urge to jump across the table and wring his neck. biting on his cheek rather than letting what he really wants to say out.

“alejandro,” you echo, all starry eyed.

he’s not going to play up to it, well aware that you don’t actually give a shit about the chiseled man. you just want a reaction from eddie, maybe throw his weight around a little so you could reward him later.

you look back at eddie, pouting a little when he doesn’t give you what you want. confusion plagues your expression before you quickly drop the man’s hand, displeased with the reaction, or lack thereof, you had been given so far.

“it was nice to meet you,” eddie nods, shooing him away without so much as a look at you.

he slinks away, leaving the two of you sat in uncomfortable silence. taking careful sips of his drink, calculating his next move as he was sure you would also be doing.

“d’you wanna go home?” you pry, attempting to snake your arm around his though he doesn’t budge.

“do you?”

your eyes flash with hurt only momentarily until a lightbulb flickers and you realise getting him home means one step closer to getting what you’re fiending after.

“yeah.”

eddie nods, standing from the booth, “lets go then,” more so barking his order rather than asking.

and you’d follow along like a dumb little dog because the result was always always worth the temporary wait.

-

eddie’s a smart man, at least sometimes.

he’s wise to your games and refuses to rise to it. flopping onto the bed, watching as you dance around the room, antsy and eager for his reaction.

his hands are itching to touch you, enjoying every last second of you flitting about, the anxious eye contact as you get ready for bed.

you’ve just about had enough when he doesn’t react to your new pyjamas. not even a nod of acknowledgement. nada. nothing.

“eds,” you huff, jutting your bottom lip out as far as it’ll go, “is that it? you’re not even gonna talk to me?”

he pulls his eyes from the window, containing his smirk. you’re putty in his hands and you don’t even know it, falling right into his trap.

“what? i’m talking to you right now?”

the mattress dips as you climb on top, “you’re being weird.”

“i’m not being weird?”

your nostrils flare, tired of his silly little act. taking matters into your own hands by clambering onto his lap, perching atop of his thighs.

“stop being a dick and touch me,” you pout, practically begging for an inch of his attention. your hands grab onto his, placing them on your waist in an attempt to make him do something.

eddie weighs up his options, deciding that pushing your buttons one last time would make everything all the more worthwhile.

he lets his arms flop back into the bed, sighing softly, “baby, i’m tired,” jutting his chin to the sky, urging himself to not just toss you onto the bed and pound you into the mattress.

he hadn’t anticipated your reaction, climbing from his legs to stand beside him, “maybe alejandro would touch me,” you spit, turning to stomp out of the room as if he wouldn’t chase you to the ends of the earth.

eddie jumps up, bounding after you to grab your waist, pulling you back toward the bed with a squeak.

“too fuckin’ bad he’s not going to then, isn’t it?” pinning you between his body and the mattress. “you gonna stop being a little bitch?”

he hates that you’re not even mad, wild eyes glinting in the dim light, as you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“huh? you gone shy on me all of a sudden?”

your head shakes, stars in your eyes and absolutely any thought drained from your pretty little head. “beg for it,” he barks, nose just barely brushing against yours.

“please,” you gulp, fire burning in your stomach, at mercy to his touch.

eddie stands up straight, pulling your body down the bed by the legs, hips banging against your heat, groaning at the contact.

“hmm,” he hums, manoeuvring your thighs onto his shoulders, “i can’t hear you sweetheart,” palming at the doughy skin as his hands trail upwards.

“please eddie,” you whine, guiding his hands back down, aching for them to slide between your legs. “i need you,” rutting your hips with every grope and grab he allows.

his boxers strain against your silky pyjama shorts, the utter desperation dripping from your throat makes him crazy, electricity buzzing through his bloodstream.

he’s addicted to you. the way you feel, the way you smell, the way your body keens and melts for him.

“fuck,” lips vibrating against your neck, “stop playing those stupid games with me,” though quite honestly, he did enjoy the little chase routine you guys had curated.

you nod, arching your hips to allow him to slip your shorts down, working them down and off onto the floor. his hands slithering back up over the soft skin until his hand rests comfortably on your thigh.

eddie would love to toy around with you a little bit longer but his dick was starting to ache against his boxers with every not-so-subtle move of your hips.

he stands up straight, tugging the cotton down his thighs, the elastic resting just beneath his heavy balls.

his fingers slide between your slick folds, disappearing inside your cunt, pulling the strangled moan from your lips with every dip of his fingers.

“look at you,” he purrs, though he knows you’ll make no effort to actually look, “so pretty for me,” admiring your pussy, pupils near enough heart shaped.

his knees dig into the mattress, hovering above as his fingers grip onto your hips, sinking in to your cunt with a hoarse groan.

you cry out, grateful for him giving you what you had begged for at long last. hands flailing about for something to grab, fingers twisting around the soft cotton blanket, pulling the sheets from the bed.

eddie’s hands roam all over, palming your breasts and then back down to your calves, keeping them firmly balanced on his chest.

“fuck baby,” he coos, forcing himself to go slow, savour the feeling. you’re insatiable like this, sprawled out on the mattress, head thrown back, full of nothing.

hand disappearing between your legs as his thumb circles your neglected clit, watchful eyes lapping up your every move your body makes in response to him.

he’d never believed in all that soulmate shit before meeting you but now he couldn’t fathom the idea of ever being with anyone other than you. two people made to fit together by some grace of god.

your thighs cramp around his wrist, keeping his hand firmly there while you writhe around.

your eyes squeeze shut, eddie can already feel you clench around him, “you gonna cum already?” he teases, what kind of boyfriend would he be if not to mock you.

“n-no,” you gasp, fingers intertwined with the white sheets surrounding your head.

the headboard knocks gently against the wall with every thrust of his hips, the cool midnight breeze seeping in through the open window though it does nothing to stop eddie’s brow from sweating.

you snap, coming undone all around him, melodic moans filling the room, somewhere tangled between his low grunts and the filthy sounds of your bodies meeting.

“good girl,” he coos, reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

your eyes glossy with tears, lips puffy and swollen when your hand wraps around his wrist, struggling to hold eye contact as his thrusts continue.

biting down on your bottom lip, becoming a puddle of nothingness right before his eyes.

“sh-shit,” you mewl, his thumb still circling your clit, pulling you straight back to orgasm.

eddie leans over, pressing his dripping chest to yours as his hand slinks down to your neck, loosely squeezing the skin all while your lips meet in a hazy, messy kiss.

“one more.. for me,” he pants into your mouth, burying himself inside of your cunt, filled to the hilt.

only responding with a drawn out wail, clinging onto his cheeks for a little levity. his cock nudging your sweet spot. tipping you closer and closer to the edge once more.

“fu-uck,” you pant, sucking on his bottom lip. he can feel you tighten around him, thighs drawing him in. “cum in me,” babbling nonsense into his mouth.

there’s no way he can think clearly, too utterly lovesick with your pussy for any critical thought to seep in. it was a bad idea, his gut told him as much.

but at the end of it all, he’d give you what you wanted. no matter what.

“you want that? hmm?” breathing through his teeth.

your head nods enthusiastically, bleary eyes meeting again, sweat mixing with your tears of overstimulation and exhaustion.

disgusting and erotic all at once.

eddie can feel your legs begin to quiver around him, pretty little mouth falling slack, threatening to swallow him whole.

“ohmygod,” you rush, chest heaving rapidly as your eyes flutter shut.

eddie near enough chokes on the thick air, a pitiful final few thrusts before filling your cunt. a decision he’d regret in the morning but made perfect sense for right now.

he grunts, the air knocked from his lungs at the immense, earth-shattering feel of you and your body enveloping him.

tendrils of his hair come loose from the haphazard bun he had thrown up, covering your pretty, dewy face.

“‘s that what you wanted?” balancing carefully on his elbows, carefully brushing your hair from your sticky forehead.

“yes,” grinning wearily, your hand gentle as it now lay on his cheek.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?”

“mhm,” you hum in agreement, fingers delicately weaving into his hair, “just don’t die before we get married.”

his smile fades, fingers poised as they tuck your hair behind your ear, “are you saying you wanna get married?” completely prepared to slide down onto one knee right here and now.

your nail traces carefully over the scar on his cheek, gazing lovingly into his eyes, “obviously,” pausing momentarily, “you still have to ask me properly though.”

eddie’s laugh bubbles over, burying his face into your chest, wondering how long after this conversation he’d have to wait to ask and just how much he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life right here, next to you.

[cute-sucker]

note: more for liona!! (inspiration) <3 send me some requests if you'd like some of diner!jj

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part five here, part six here !

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diner!jj learned early on that you hated loud noises. he watched you carefully the first time you were invited to the kitchen when the two of you had to curate the perfect version of the chocolate milk. he watched you cower at the noise, skittish as you tried to give him a smile.

all he did was place a soothing hand on your waist and pull you closer, and it was as if that worked. your body seemed to soften at his touch, and he bit back a smile.

but somehow you continued coming back into the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters and eating chocolate-covered strawberries. he could tell you loved chocolate. today you had come alone, leaving your baby with some granny near your apartment complex.

he watched you blush when you asked to come into the kitchen, expectantly looking up at him. he felt like a schoolboy stammering out sentences, hands in his pockets as he murmured out soft, 'yea's."

you were wearing jeans and a cute flowery top. there was something about the glow in your eyes when you walked in that made him want to bundle you up and kiss your forehead, but instead he found himself gruffly making muffins.

he could feel your eyes on him, keenly watching his every move, the ripple of his muscles, and one time when his white shirt rode up his back- you were watching. he turned back slowly to see you flushing, eying you a magazine that you had brought with you.

but that whole sweet moment is ruined by his staff, ernesto moves in quickly, "chef?"

jj clenches his jaw, eyes still on your figure as you go through pages of the magazine. "what's up?"

ernesto winces, running a hand through his hair, "chef, we fucked up the pancakes. burnt. all of them," and then he sees the way jj closes his eyes, and quickly moves in front of him, "but we're on it! we're fixing it, man."

at another moment he would yell. how the hell could well-seasoned cooks mess up something as simple as pancakes? it was one of their staple foods. but then his eyes travelled to you.

you sat there, blinking owlishly as if you could tell something had gone wrong. when jj catches your eye, you seem to bite your lip to stop a grin. there was something about that sight that softened his heart.

no, he could not yell.

god, you had such a hold on him, and you weren't even dating him. but knowing the way he felt for you, if the two of you started to he would worship the floor you walked on. he would make sure nothing made you scared again.

goddamn it.

he clenches his jaw, "just fucking fix it," and he walks off eye twitching.

you would be the bane of his existence.

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas