#tp!reader

[2tarbell]

more trailer park!rafe drabbles i beg

maybe something with crybaby!reader too, like he comes home from a long ass day and she’s crying over the silliest thing ever.

but of course he makes her feel better.

love ur writing smm !!

he knew he was in for it when he came home and she wasn’t waiting patiently for him. if he didn’t know any better, rafe would assume the quaint trailer was empty — but the call you shared earlier on his lunch break detailed your plans around the house for the day, so there was no fuckin’ reason for it be as quiet as it was.

his confusion turned to concern when he heard little sniffles and sobs coming from the bathroom. rafe dropped his keys in the bowl and hurried off further into the trailer, in search of his girl.

pushing the bathroom door open with a rough hand, his mind went to the worst places when he saw her crumpled up on the floor. instantly he scooped her up onto the counter. his voice was a flurry of sounds she couldn’t decipher through her tears. the warm cadence she’s become so familiar with instantly providing some relief.

“hey, hey, baby — look at me, you hurt?” his hands are moving fast, holding her cheeks and checking for any injuries to that beautiful face.

she could only shake her head, hiccuping and trying to speak between sobs.

“rafe— dad— daddy—“

he hums and looks over her body. blue eyes checking off a list of what’s ‘normal’. when he finds nothing bleeding or falling off — that intense gaze finds hers, urging her to calm down.

his voice cooed, low and rumbly in a way that always soothes her, “shh, dad��s here, what happened? hm? someone — someone do somethin’ t’you or—“

“muh — my nails!” she interrupted, voice a petulant mumble.

rafe froze, mouth agape and eyes blinking in confusion. he looked down and took her smaller hands in his. turning them over and feeling the smooth skin. no cuts, no bruises—

the fact that he didn’t immediately know what she was talking about sends her into another spiral. yanking her hands from his and covering her eyes as sobs shook her shoulders.

“okay, okay, can’t help if you’re cryin’. talk t’me— what about your nails, honey?”

she sniffs and thrusts them in his face, rafe now seeing something out of the ordinary — chipped baby blue polish.

“wanted— wanted to paint them f’you. ‘cuz— ‘cuz s’the same color as your eyes but forgot they weren’t dry yet so i tried to make dinner and— and i ruined them!”

everyday the universe was testing his patience.

a sharp sigh out of his nose and rafe let his head fall forward. relief and disbelief pooled in his chest. she was this worked up over nail polish?

a low grumble of her name ceased her tears until they were just little sniffles of sadness. any other person and rafe would’ve been out the door with a specific finger showing his annoyance. but this was his person, his precious girl, and if she was this worked up over nail polish — he was going to indulge her. he picked up his head, eyes tired from a long days work but soft in a way meant just for her. he spoke in that way that makes her all fuzzy for him.

“jesus christ, that’s— yeah, okay. baby, ‘m— ‘m sorry. y’just wanted t’do somethin’ sweet f’dad, yeah?”

hook, line, and sinker. reader huffed and nodded as she leaned forward into his chest. her little gasps punctuated his cooing. within minutes, she was putty in his arms, nuzzling closer and closer. rafe littered kisses over her hair, gently rocking her until her head lifted off his chest. wet cheeks and a red nose greeted him and he couldn’t stop the adoring coo from falling out as he wiped her face.

“thereee you are— my sweet girl… better now?”

she nodded at his words, almost hypnotized by the gentle tone of his voice. a little hiccup fell out when she caught sight of her messy nails, but rafe quickly shushed her.

“shh, no more cryin’. y’gotta be a big girl, a’ight? c’mon, whaddaya need?”

she wished she had a picture of this big man patiently painting and blowing on her nails — that matched his eyes.

[violettwrites]

american teenagers — i.

intro | next

your curtains were yanked open, and sunlight poured into your small bedroom, a sharp assault that had you squinting before you could fully process it. the tall, lanky silhouette of your best friend standing in front of the window made it clear who was to blame for your rude awakening. 

“daryl,” you groaned, though it came out more like a whine, pulling your pillow over your head in a futile attempt to block out the light. “what the hell? it’s like six am. go away.

“it’s actually ten,” daryl drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. you didn’t have to look to know he was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed like he hadn’t just barged into your room uninvited. “you’re wastin’ the whole day.”

“it’s not ten,” you muttered, clutching the pillow tighter. 

“it’s definitely ten,” he countered, the smirk practically audible in his voice. “c’mon, get up.” 

“no,” you said stubbornly, burrowing further into your blankets. “it’s my first day off in weeks. let me sleep.”

the silence that followed should’ve been your first warning. daryl wasn’t the type to give up easily, and quiet usually meant he was up to no good. you had barely a second to realise this before the pillow was ripped from your grasp and tossed across the room. 

“daryl dixon!” you screeched, sitting up so fast that your vision blurred for a second. if looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ashes and bone. “you’re such a jerk! why can’t you just let me sleep in?”

he shrugged his shoulders, completely unfazed, the fainted hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “you done complainin’, or do i gotta drag you outta bed?”

you glanced at the clock on your nightstand, the red numbers glaring back at you: 10:17. damn it. he was right— and that only made it worse. 

“why are you even here?” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “what could possibly be so important that you had to wake me up like this?”

daryl stepped back towards the window, peering out like he hadn’t already made his mind up. “figured we’d take the truck out to the creek,” he said simply, shrugging. then, as casually as if it were his own, he plucked your pack of cigarettes off the dresser and slid one between his lips. 

you rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, you felt the corners of your mouth twitch. that was daryl— gruff and infuriatingly persuasive. “and you couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour to suggest that?”

“it is a reasonable hour,” he shot back, raising an eyebrow at you. “you’re just mad i interrupted your beauty sleep.” 

“ugh,” you groaned, but swung your legs over the side of the bed anyway. “fine. but next time, maybe consider knocking instead of staging a home invasion.”

“no promises,” he replied with a smirk as he lit the cigarette and tossing the pack back onto your dresser. 

as you rummaged through your drawer for something to wear, daryl had now moved to the door frame, leaning against it as he watched you lazily. “where’s your old man, anyway?” he asked, his tone casual but curious. 

“visiting my granddad,” you replied, tugging a t-shirt over your head. “he drove out to kentucky yesterday. said he’d probably be gone for a few weeks.” 

daryl nodded, his expression unreadable. you knew he didn’t care much for your dad— probably for a good reason —but he rarely said anything outright. 

“that why you’re off today?”

“yep. first real day off in forever.” you turned to him, hands on your hips. “and i was gonna sleep in, but then you showed up.” 

“like i said,” he drawled, pushing off the doorframe, “you’re wastin’ the day.” 

the creek wasn’t far from the trailer park, just a short drive down the winding dirt roads that snaked through your small town. daryl kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting out the open window, the breeze ruddling his hair. you sat beside him, letting the warm air whip through your own as the fields blurred past in shades of beige and gold. 

once daryl had pulled the truck up under a tree, you were glad the creek was as serene as you’d hoped, the water reflecting the endless blue sky above. you kicked off your shoes and waded in up to your ankles, savouring the cool relief as the ripples lapped gently against your skin. 

daryl lingered on the bank, lighting another cigarette before settling under the shade of a tree. 

“you always pick the best spots to nap,” you called out to him teasingly, splashing a little water in his direction. 

“someone’s gotta keep an eye on you,” he shot back, smirking as smoke curled lazily from his lips. 

you rolled your eyes, but his words carried a familiar weight. daryl had always been there— steady and dependable, even when everything else in your life felt like it was constantly shifting. 

by the time the sun climbed higher in the sky, you were lying side by side on the grass, staring up at the blue sky being filtered through the leaves of the trees. the hum of summer surrounded you, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. 

“think this summer’s gonna be different?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

daryl turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “different how?”

“i don’t know,” you murmured, shrugging. “just… different.” 

he didn’t answer right away, his expression thoughtful. finally, he said, “maybe.” 

for a moment, the world felt quiet and still, like it was holding its breath. daryl’s gaze lingered, and there was something unspoken in his eyes that made your chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“c’mon,” he said eventually, standing up and offering you a hand. “let’s get back before merle gets all twisted up about us takin’ the truck.”

you took his hand, his palm rough and warm against yours. as you followed him back to the truck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this summer really would be different— different in was you weren’t sure you were ready for.

hi guys !! i do apologise that this chapter is so short but i promise that they will get longer as we go along ! my uploading schedule may be a bit sporadic sometimes as i am having some issues in my personal life but i hope it'll get better soon

thank you for your support! if you enjoyed, give this a like/reblog and if you'd like to be added to my tag list, comment below!

[pintrestgrl]

“𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗚𝗢 ...”

jae. she/her. 18. established ‘06. may taurus. lana lover. the color brown. rafes prettiest bambi. multi fandom. winter enthusiast. sleepiest girl. based in san antonio. avid listener. infp-t. cold chaser. shopping lover.

requests : open, feel free to send any thoughts or convo starters as well. i love to chat.

links : girls guide , masterlist , anon board

other socials : sideblog - talkingwithjae, pintrest - thepintrestgrl

©pintrestgrl. 18+ blog, mdni. do not copy, translate, or claim my writing as yours. i do post dark and taboo content at times. please remember you are responsible for your own media consumption.

[avroravia]

☆ desert eagle. - I ☆

pairings: trailer park!dallas winston x f!trailer park!reader

summary: dallas can’t seem to keep himself from the pretty girl wandering throughout the park, now can he? but, it seems neither can she.

warnings: f!reader, swearing, familial descriptions, outfit descriptions, may not be time accurate (?)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

the blazing summer sun of tulsa beat down onto the park, yet everybody seemed unbothered. children continued running around, water guns in hand as they seamlessly weaved through all the trailers. teens funded the gas stations and mini-marts, with icees and cokes in hand as they flocked to the shade. adults were either at work, or running errands throughout tulsa.

wiping the sweat off of his forehead, dallas shut the hood of the car. he tossed his borrowed-box of tools onto the grass, before making his way to the entrance of the car owner’s trailer. living in the park wasn’t necessarily bad, just mundane. going from odd-job to odd-job, then party to party.

dallas’ boots thudded along the metal ramp towards the entrance. met with the sight of an open door, he rapped his knuckles against the frame before peeking his head inside. dallas didn’t see the woman who had originally ‘hired’ him, but rather a younger girl. you. your head perked up from the small mini fridge’s door, which you seemed to be stocking.

“money’s on the table.” you told him, gaze returning to your chores.

dallas examined the trailer further, narrow brown eyes darting from the dusty chandelier to the bruised wooden floors. despite the years of use, it was still relatively clean. he could see the crumpled 10$ bill on the dinner table, which he stuffed into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans.

as you stood up, dallas’ gaze was averted to you. he had known of you, but he never held more than a two second conversation with you. dallas recognized you as ‘angela’s best friend,’ having seen you many times in the shepard’s trailer when he went to visit tim.

once dallas’ brain had made the connection, he turned to actually look at you. he took in the sight of your brown, beat-up cowboy boots, low-rise denim shorts far too short for any mother’s taste, and a cropped budweiser shirt. with your lower midriff exposed and a hand on your hip, you waited for him to say something, anything.

“you- you’re angel’s friend, huh?” dallas asked, almost instantly regretting it. he thought his words were stupid.

“something like that, yeah.” you responded, a faint southern accent showing through.

stepping closer to him, you had an almost sinister smile on your glossed lips. you placed a manicured hand onto his exposed shoulder and slightly swayed your hip outward, making butterflies bloom from every crevice in his guts. regardless, dallas kept his unamused expression. brows furrowed and his drowsy brown eyes narrow per usual.

“s’dallas, right?” you drawled, thumb toying with the thick strap of his white tank top.

dallas only hummed in response. something about you seemed so enticing to him. it drew him in like a sailor to a siren, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. despite the mixed feelings, dallas would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the feeling of your hands on his skin, or the way you looked at him.

“well, dallas,” you mused, “i’ll see you around then...”

he watched as you returned to tidying up the trailer, before taking your words as a cue to leave. stepping out the trailer, dallas shut the door behind him. his thoughts were kept clouded with the memory of you, and he swore he could still feel your soft hands on the skin of his shoulder.

grabbing the tool box, dallas made a mental note to return it to buck. though, the thought was quickly replaced with you. as he walked home, dallas looped your voice in his head, particularly the way you said his name.

man, would dallas get his kicks in with you...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this little drabble! i’m planning on making it a little series, on how tp!reader and tp!dallas first met along with the beginning of their relationship. once im satisfied, it’ll probably just be random moments in their relationship from then on. i’m also happy to take requests on these two and all my other readers >:)) my ask box has been so dry lately lmaoo!

[thef1diary]

teamprincipal!carlos fingering you after he heard you say bad things about yourself after a race and making you praise yourself 😵‍💫😵‍💫

— good god nonnie 🥵 he will never let anyone speak badly about his driver. 18+ content below

The door to Carlos’ office slammed shut behind you, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate. You paced the room, tugging at the sleeves of your race suit, anger and self-loathing swirling in your chest. The race had been a disaster—or so you thought—and the words spilled from your lips before you could stop them.

“I’m so fucking useless,” you muttered, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I’m a goddamn joke out there—”

“What did you just say?”

Carlos’s voice stopped you in your tracks. It was low, sharp, and full of disbelief. He stood by the door, his arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowing on you like you were a problem he needed to fix.

“I—” you stammered, caught off guard by the intensity of his glare.

“Don’t you dare,” he muttered, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. His tone softened, but it was no less commanding. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”

Before you could respond, his hands were on you, one gripping your chin to tilt your head up, the other slipping around your waist. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your apology, silencing every self-deprecating word you wanted to say.

The kiss was rough, possessive, yet tinged with something almost tender. You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you closer, your bodies flush. His hardening cock pressed against you, and your hips instinctively ground against him, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Do you have any idea how fucking incredible you are?” he murmured against your lips, his voice laced with both anger and something softer—almost hurt. “How can you think otherwise?”

His hands found the zipper of your race suit, tugging it down to your waist. Beneath it, your fireproofs clung to your body, but Carlos was quick to strip you of the top, exposing your bare skin. His gaze raked over you, dark and hungry, as his hands cupped your tits.

“Let me remind you,” he said, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until they hardened under his touch. The sensation sent sparks straight to your pussy, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Sir,” you breathed, your body arching into his hands as he pinched and teased. The attention he lavished on your nipples had you squirming, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice softening as his lips brushed along your jaw, then down your neck. “So beautiful, so fucking perfect.” His hands continued their work, alternating between gentle caresses and rough pinches that left you gasping.

The heat pooling between your legs was unbearable by the time he pulled back, his hands sliding lower. He turned you around, pressing you against the edge of his desk. His palm slid beneath the waistband of your fireproof leggings, finding your bare, slick cunt.

“You’re dripping,” he said, his tone low and full of approval. “All this for me, hermosa?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as his fingers dipped into your folds, spreading your arousal.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, sliding two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit. His pace was maddeningly slow, deliberate, and utterly devastating. “Now, tell me what I want to hear.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you started, but his fingers froze. His other hand grazed up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair before he tugged harshly.

He leaned closer, and you were able to feel the heat of his body surrounding you. “Wrong answer,” he whispered in your ear, his voice dark and dangerous. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and slapped your clit, the sharp sting making you cry out.

“Sir, please!” you whimpered, your body trembling as he teased you mercilessly.

“Try again,” he said, sliding his fingers back inside you with a rough thrust. “Say something good about yourself.”

“I—I’m good enough,” you stammered, the pleasure building in your core.

“Louder,” he commanded, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

“I’m good enough!” you cried out, your hands clawing at the desk for support.

“And?” he pressed, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, making your legs shake.

“I’m a good driver,” you whispered, the tears pooling in your eyes as you struggled to believe your own words while focusing on the pleasure building.

“The best,” he corrected, his pace quickening. “Say it.”

“I’m the best!” you sobbed, your body shaking as the tension coiled tighter and tighter.

“Good girl,” he purred, his lips brushing against your ear as he worked you closer to the edge. “Now cum for me. Show me how much you believe it.”

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as he continued to thrust his fingers into you, drawing out every drop of your release. The wet, filthy sounds of your orgasm filled the room, your cries of pleasure muffled by his hand over your mouth.

As you slumped against the desk, breathing heavily, Carlos carefully flipped you over, a small smile gracing his lips as he noticed your tinged cheeks. He leaned down, grazing his lips over your neck before pressing a firm kiss to the spot behind your ear.

“Remember this, princesa,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less authoritative. “You’re mine. My driver. The best one on the grid. And I don’t let anyone—not even you—talk shit about my driver.”

want more team principal!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny! can i please have cream puffs with a side of tonic water served by max verstappen

thank you love you <33

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of options to choose from! thank you so, so much for all i've received! as for the anon, i hope that you love this! i love the combination of prompts. this is technically a team principal!max au, but not the main one i'm currently writing. this is just a fun little side!

cream puffs ("let me finish inside.") + tonic water (age gap) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, team principal!max, team principal au, driver!reader, breeding/pregnancy, pool sex, age gap (20s/40s), unprotected sex, incorrect info about sex (!!)

maybe it was wrong for max verstappen to ogle at his new driver. maybe it wasn't the brightest ides to let her prance around the pool like an excited puppy. people would talk. it didn't help that you were wearing the loosest definition of a bikini, he swore that he saw of your nipples peek out of the top.

you were splashing and laughing the pool, kicking around and having the time of your life. all while max was trying to focus on an email he was writing. but that was hard, about as hard as his cock that strained in his swim trunks.

max prided himself on focus, and integrity. he was a strong drive of a good character. but with you all judgement was clouded.

"c'mon, mister verstappen. let's play mermaids." you said with excitement in your tone. max knew that closest pool you had growing up was the public one in your neighourhood. so to have one all to yourself for the afternoon left like a luxury. even with the large contract you had with verstappen racing, the smallest things excited you.

max assumed at this point in his career that he was used to luxury. he had enough money to start a racing team after years of racing. but, to you, this was all new and exciting. it made max want to spoil you.

max looked up from his phone, "i'm a little busy."

you sighed, you were up against the edge of the pool. he could picture your pretty breasts pressed against the tiles. you said, "it's off season, sir. stop being an over-worker an let's have some fun! all you do is work, work, work!"

"and what is your idea of fun?" he asked.

you looked adorable as you responded with, "mermaids!"

max couldn't argue with that. so his phone was soon left on the table before he took off his t-shirt and ended up in the pool with you in just his swim trunks. your swam over and wrapped your arms around him.

"see, isn't this fun?" you asked as you held him. max believed you were a temptress in disguise. a devil dressed like an angel.

he was in the water for you as you held onto him tightly. you were alluring in the most perfect way possible. he leaned in to kiss you with his hands on your hips. team principals didn't kiss their drivers, but with the high walls around the house. it was your little secret.

you giggled against the kiss, "sir!"

"you're teasing me, angel." he replied as he kissed you more. they got a little more heated as his grip on you tightened. you squirmed a little, but he held tightly onto you. he had kissed you before, usually in private. on the track he usually got his fix where he could.

"i just wanted to play in the water, sir." you pouted. you were a horrible actress, this was the least convincing performance you had done so far.

"i think you wanted more." he replied. he was hard in his trunks as he worked to get your bottoms off to give him easy access to your slick core. you whined and he beamed at you. he knew you so well.

he learned very early on how to read your expressions, your poker face was horrible. you wore everything on your face and on your sleeve. he knew you very well, more than he knew your teammate and other driver.

"mister verstappen." you moaned as he held you in the water.

he got his trunks off and rubbed his cock up against your pussy. it excited him. being in the warm water didn't help either. he said, "let me finish inside."

"but!"

he replied, "you can't get pregnant in a pool." and as a response you wrapped your legs around his waist and with a few tries he sank his cock inside of you. his size was impressive and it made you warm all over.

it felt like a slice of heaven. it felt like home, and it made you moan loudly.

you believed him, so you let him take you bare in the pool at his over priced house in monaco. your hands were in his short hair as he fucked up into you. even at close to double your age, he fucked like a young man. you yanked on his near blond hair and he groaned. just as he knew your body, you knew his. you knew that the famed max verstappen liked to have his hair pulled.

you moaned against one another, the kisses were hot and the noises got louder. you whimpered while he moaned against you. he loved the feeling, the intensity of your fucking. the thought of playing in the water was long forgotten as he moved against you. rutted up into you in a way that made you feel good all over. his face was against your breasts and he could feel your hard nipples through our bikini top.

your back arched with a heated want for the man inside of you. you yanked on his hair a little more as he bit your left nipple through the swimsuit which made your toes curled. he managed to mark you a your breasts a little in the areas that weren't covered by the bikini top. his groaned made you feel hotter.

"please, sir."

you felt amazing. you made a primal part of his brain sing with the idea of having you with him for a lifetime. he yearned for you, he wanted you in ways that only a lover could. to keep you as his. he was close to double your age, but he was deeply in love with you. a marvel on the track and in his arms. anyway he's have you. he's take it, even if it was unprotected sex in his pool.

you held onto him as you rolled your hips. you moaned louder and felt the pleasure course through you. down to your very core. your hadn't met a man like max before and you would never after. you panted heavily and max drank in the feeling. to have you like this, this was what heaven was.

"mister-"

"sh, sh, just call me max. just max, my angel." he said through a tense jaw as he picked up the pace. he wasn't going to last much longer. it wasn't long before you felt the grip of pleasure through you. the heightened feeling of his cock up inside of you. you came with a sharp moan that made max tense up. you always sounded so pretty on the edge of climax.

"please mister! miste-max!" you whined through orgasm and max kept his pace inside of you. your tightness around him almost made him choke on air. it all felt amazing.

"i got you, i got you." he promised. he'd always have you. you were his daring racer, the marvel of his team. his winner. with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. fucking you without protection felt amazing.

he hoped he'd get the chance to finish inside of you again. he shuddered at the notion, your pretty pussy caked in his cum. he stopped his movements and held you in his arms.

you softly kissed him as he held you for a moment. when you pulled away, you cupped his face and asked, "i guess we're not playing in the pool today?"

-

"adrian!" you chirped as you quickly got into the pool with your son, "you have to wait for me, you know mama can't move as fast as you right now." it was a little harder keeping up with a four year old in floaties while you were six months pregnant.

the little boy was a least smart enough to stay in the shallow end of the pool. max was barely outside when you were in the pool with adrian. he settled your things down while you splashed in the pool with the young boy.

max watched, keeping a keen eye on the both of you. he didn't want his little family getting into too much trouble in the pool. you were no longer his star driver, but you did upgrade to 'wife status'. you recently had gotten a job with formula two which made max happy. it was good to see his former superstar and current wife in demand in the racing field. even if you weren't a driver. your skills weren't being put to waste because you got pregnant a lot sooner than expected.

as you and adrian played in the water, you smiled at your husband. he waved to you and your smile grew. you remarked, "c'mon, honey, we're going to play mermaids." <3

[catcze]

Sylus is the kind of man who loves to hear your noises. He’d make sure that your mouth is never covered when he fucks you, always pulling your hands away or lifting you up by the hair from where you buried your face in the pillows. He’s insistent on it— on hearing how he pleasures you, on how good he makes you feel. He could get off on hearing your voice calling his name, whining and moaning for more. He gets off on how your voice cracks when you’re about to cum, on how your voice raises in pitch the closer you get to that peak. It’s stunning. The best damn thing he’s ever heard— you practically sing under his touch and, if he could, he’d keep a recording of your noises on his phone to keep him company on the lonely days that he has to spend away from you.

[valhallasgirl]

“I will never finish this shit” I say as I post the most try hard and half assed angst draft bc i miss long hair hanma

[nemesyaaa]

old!trailer park!jj x young!girl!reader by @starfxkrinc . i wanted to make you a moodboards bc i love them. hope it accurate for you :))))

“ go ahead old man, crush me under your muddy boots, and tell me i'm nothing but your dirt. ”

beware doll, you're abound to fall.

she was hot and pretty, the trailer park southern girl.

dividers by @saradika , moodboards by me. ✨

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

tp!daryl x young reader, young Daryl Dixon, pre apocalypse, fluff

warnings: none except Daryl is kind of an ass at first

The night air hung thick and humid, clinging to the inside of Daryl’s truck. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, their rhythm competing with the faint rattle of the truck’s idling engine. He leaned his chin on his hand, fingers scratching idly at his scruff as he stared at the empty stretch of road ahead.

“Goodnight,” the girl said, her voice pitched just a little too sweet, teetering on the edge of something expectant. Hopeful.

Her name was… Tessa? No, Tanya. Maybe. Wait, Tina? Hell, he couldn’t remember anymore. Not that it mattered.

“Night,” he muttered, the word coming out low, almost like an afterthought.

Still waiting. Still expectant.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, but his gaze didn’t waver from the road. He let the silence stretch between them, filling the cab like the humid summer air, heavy and suffocating. Daryl exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Why wasn’t she leaving?

She adjusted her purse on her lap, the clink of the metal clasp annoyingly loud in the quiet cab. He didn’t look at her, didn’t give her the satisfaction of meeting her eyes. Maybe if he stayed still long enough, she’d take the hint.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in?” she asked, her voice soft, but with an edge of insistence that grated against his nerves.

His eyes flicked to her, just briefly, before settling back on the road. “Nah,” he said, voice flat, as though the single syllable could put an end to the conversation.

She stayed there, unmoving, her nails tapping against her purse now, a nervous little rhythm that set his teeth on edge.

“Alright,” she said finally, though her tone carried more disappointment than acceptance. She shifted, one hand reaching for the door handle, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she paused, turning back to him. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Daryl huffed, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ain’t got much to say.”

That clearly wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Her face fell, the sweetness in her expression fading into something colder.

“Well, thanks for the ride, I guess,” she said, her words clipped now. She shoved the door open, stepping out onto the gravel driveway with a sharp click of her heels.

“Yeah,” he grunted, already reaching to shift the truck into gear. He didn't let her get another word in, already backing out of her driveway onto the road, eager to get away.

The road stretched ahead of him, endless and empty, the faint glow of the late night store's neon signs flashing by him through town. He turned the radio on, letting the static fill the cab before switching it off again. He was on edge.

It was late—closer to midnight than not—and he wasn’t sure where he was headed. He just knew he couldn’t go back to the trailer yet, not with Merle’s drunken yelling waiting for him. He needed space, air, something to quiet the restless energy clawing at his chest.

Before he realized it, his truck was pulling onto your street.

---

The sound of tires crunching over gravel pulled your attention from the book in your lap. You glanced up from the porch steps, squinting as headlights washed over you, the faint rumble of an old truck engine breaking the quiet of the night.

You didn’t have to see who it was to know.

The truck rolled to a stop, the engine idling as the driver’s side door creaked open. Daryl climbed out, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he looked at you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, closing the book and setting it aside. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Figured you might wanna get outta here for a bit.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head at him. “What, and ride around in that death trap of yours?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he turned back toward the truck. “C’mon. Ain’t gonna ask twice.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your jacket from the porch and jogging down the steps. The cab smelled faintly of gasoline and old leather as you slid into the passenger seat, the bench warm from where someone might've been sitting earlier.

“Where we goin’?” you asked, buckling your seatbelt as he shifted into gear.

“Dunno. wanna stop at Sevs?” he muttered, his eyes on the road as the truck rattled to life.

--

The neon lights of the 7-Eleven cast a hazy glow over the parking lot, the hum of the buzzing sign filling the quiet as the two of you pushed open the glass door.

You bee-lined for the slurpees, the bright red syrup swirling into a cup as you filled it to the brim. Daryl followed behind, snagging a pack of jerky and a bag of chips before nodding toward the counter.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door.

The truck cab was quiet as you climbed back inside, the faint crinkle of the jerky bag filling the space as Daryl tore it open. You leaned back against the seat, sipping your slurpee as the engine purred beneath you.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an edge to it—like something unsaid was lingering in the air. You drove for awhile like that, listening to music, aimlessly turning down different roads in the quiet night. The truck rolled to a stop at a red light, its glow casting the cab in deep crimson. The roads were empty, no one else around this late. The hum of the engine filled the silence, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“How was your date?” you asked finally, your voice casual as you stared out the windshield. The question had been boggling your mind since you got in the truck with him earlier.

Daryl froze for half a second, his fingers tightening around the jerky bag before he scoffed. “Pfft...Borin’.”

A flicker of something you couldn’t name stirred in your chest, but you kept your expression neutral, snuffing the feeling out and taking another sip of your slurpee.

“Did you talk to her, or did you just grunt the whole time?” you teased, turning to glance at him.

His eyes rolled, the movement slow and deliberate, the red light casting his dark blue irises in shadow. “’Course I talked to ‘er.”

“Hi and bye don’t count,” you said, a small laugh escaping despite yourself.

His lips twitched again, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I talked to ‘er, alright?” he repeated, the words low, rough, almost playful.

You leaned back against the seat, the slurpee cup cool against your hands as you studied him. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the traffic light ahead like it held some kind of answer.

“Guess she wasn’t your type,” you said softly, the words barely above a murmur.

Daryl’s hand stilled, his fingers curling against the wheel as he finally turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable at first, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something that made your heart stutter.

“Nah,” he said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “She wasn’t.”

The air between you shifted, thickened, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were in the cramped cab. The light remained red, casting its glow over his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

Your pulse quickened as his eyes lingered on yours, the weight of his gaze making it hard to breathe. “What?” you asked, your voice softer, unsure.

---

The moment your eyes flicked toward him, framed by the crimson glow of the light, Daryl felt like his chest might cave in. He’d been fighting it for too long—the way you got under his skin, the way every word you said felt like it meant something, even when it shouldn’t.

But now, sitting in the truck, roads empty around him, it was like the world had narrowed to just you. The way you were looking at him, quiet, expectant—he couldn’t take it. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t desperate, but it hit him all at once. If he didn’t do something now, he might never get the chance.

His throat felt tight, his hands itching where they gripped the wheel. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head—if it was bold or just plain stupid—but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when you were this close.

His hand moved first, almost of its own accord, coming up to cup your cheek. Rough and calloused, his thumb brushed over your skin, and the softness of it nearly undid him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. You just… stayed. Watching him. Waiting for him.

Now or never.

His lips met yours, soft at first, just barely there, like he was trying to figure out if he was even allowed to do this. Every nerve in his body screamed to hold back, to keep it slow, but it was impossible—not when you leaned into him, not when your lips parted against his like you’d been waiting just as long as he had.

This was what he wanted.

The thought hit him hard, rattling around his head like a loose screw. It wasn’t just the kiss—not the heat of your lips against his or the way your hand found his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt like you couldn’t let go. It was all of it. You. The way you fit here beside him, the way you always knew what to say, even when it pissed him off. The way you made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t some broken-down mess of a kid.

His grip tightened as the kiss deepened, his other hand finding your jaw, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. He’d waited too long for this, longer than he wanted to admit, and now that it was happening, he didn’t know how to stop.

He pulled back for a breath, his eyes scanning you. He couldn’t look away, not now, not ever. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his voice came out low, rough, as he whispered, “Ain’t no one like ya.”

The words weren’t planned, but they felt right, felt true in a way that made his chest ache. His thumb traced the corner of your lips, lingering, memorizing. He was certain now.

Before he could say anything else, you surged forward, your hands threading into his hair and pulling him closer. The heat of you pressed against him, the way your lips moved against his—like you’d been holding back too, like this was something you needed as much as he did.

He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, and it only made you pull him closer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding himself in the feel of you. It was frantic now, messy, but he couldn’t care less. You were here, in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

The kiss deepened again, hungrier now, more desperate. His hand slipped under the edge of your jacket, his fingers pressing into the small of your back like he was trying to pull you even closer. He couldn’t get enough—didn’t know if he ever would.

And then the horn blared.

The sharp, jarring sound ripped him out of the moment, and he jerked back, panting, his mind struggling to catch up. The light had turned green, and the car behind him was blaring their horn like their life depended on it.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he turned back to the wheel. He slammed his hand against it, leaning out the window to yell, “I’m goin’, alright?!” His middle finger shot up for good measure, and he hit the gas, the truck lurching forward.

His chest still heaved as he gripped the wheel tightly, the tension in the cab almost unbearable. You laughed softly, the sound breathless and light, and it made his ears burn. He glanced at you, his lips quirking just slightly, though his grip on the wheel remained firm.

The road stretched out ahead, but something between you had changed. He could feel it in the air, in the way his heart refused to settle, in the way he could still taste you on his lips.

[2tarbell]

TRAILERPARK!RAFE letting reader play dress up in his clothes ‘cause he knows his girl loves fashion and modeling. if he could he’d buy her all kinds of expensive things to wear, but seeing her in his shirts was just as mind reeling.

“whaddaya think ‘bout this one?” her voice gentle and airy, posing seductively and playfully under his intense gaze.

it was just such a sweet sight.

the way the fabric of his nicest button up swished at her thighs. the way the sleeves fell well past her hands. jesus christ. rafe sips his beer as he trails his gaze up her exposed legs, smirking at the goofy smile on her face.

he pretended to think over the question. the answer is easy: she is gorgeous, she always is. rafe just enjoyed winding her up.

“hmf, dunno... why don’t you gimme a spin?”

“rafeeee—“ she whined, feeling embarrassment (even though this was her idea) creep up her spine.

the thought of spinning for him, showing herself off for his cerulean eyes to appreciate all of her, made her heart pick up speed in double time.

“c’mon, do a spin f’dad, baby,” that low voice, commanding and comforting, always got to her. with an encouraging nod of his head and that sexy little smile on his pink lips, reader really had no choice.

with a playful pout, she spins around. the shirt lifts slightly and shows off the edge of her panties. the little show makes rafe adjust on the worn couch, man spreading further to accommodate the throbbing length of him, already half hard.

he’s ready to grab her and bend her over the couch. hell, he was ready two outfits ago. but her smile and cute poses rendered him soft. just not between his legs.

her sweet voice mumbles about having ‘jus’ one more, daddy’ and rafe needs a cigarette, now. his knee is bouncing incessantly but he nods and tries to will himself to be a little more patient.

but when she shyly steps out of their bedroom minutes later, sporting a pink lace lingerie set he’s never seen before, he freezes and drops his pack on the floor.

his mouth is suddenly very dry, “god—damn…”

reader is holding her arms behind her back, shuffling slightly as she gauges his reaction. she spent a little extra on the set to spoil him; he deserved it and more.

“d’ya like it, daddy?”

rafe whistles and leans back further, raking a hand through his grown out buzz cut. his eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing. from her batting lashes, cleavage pushed together from the bra, and the way the underwear straps are sitting on her hips, he more than likes it.

“shit, baby, s’uh— the— the prettiest little thing‘ve ever seen,” he mutters dumbly, eyebrows kissing his hairline from his wide eyes.

she giggles and pushes some hair away from her face. he huffs out a chuckle at her adorableness and beckons her closer with a crooked finger. she pads around the coffee table and stands in front of him. having her now in front of him makes rafe feel like he won the lottery. nah, any amount of cash was dull in comparison to her.

“you’re jus’… gorgeous,” a press of his lips to her hipbone. her hands immediately find purchase in his hair, now grown out enough to give her something to hold onto. the realization of the passage of time made her smile.

“yeah?”

“hell yeah.”

his hands pulls on her hips, urging her to come to closer. she climbs into his lap nimbly and straddles him. their bodies immediately settle together comfortably from nights spent in this position and many more. his firm bulge presses eagerly between her legs and he pulls her closer by the small of her back, leaving her to arch into him.

the friction and weight of her makes his brain feel fuzzy with want, want, want.

“seriously, i— i’ve never seen somethin’ as beautiful as you, sugar. takin’ my damn breath away, jesus…”

his gravelly praise and appreciation of the outfit makes her feel flush, a pleasant haze bathing her senses.

her smile is bashful as she leans in for a kiss. rafe hums as her lips meet his and her hands slide up his chest, the warmth of her palms felt through the fabric of his shirt. nipping at her bottom lip until she smiles, and he uses the moment to slide his tongue into meet hers. nothing has really ever felt more right in his life. at least until she mumbles her next words against his lips.

“daddy… wanna take a picture f’ya wallet?”

big thank u @fae-of-prey for helping with this!!!!!!💝💝

[violettwrites]

tp!daryl dixon masterlist ( young!daryl — pre apoc )

updated 30th january. 2025.

here is my masterlist purely for tp!daryl 🫶🏻 because i have a feeling he’s going to completely take over my normal masterlist.

my requests are open ! send anything my way — even if you just wanna have a chat ! please read my rules before requesting !

( the divider i use is by @adornedwithlight ! )

fanfics.

➵ american teenagers

aesthetics.

➵ moodboards — 01 | 02

➵ headcanons — 01 |

oneshots.

➵ trailer park trash

➵ teasings

➵ your relationship with merle

➵ fourth of july

➵ a heart that knows

➵ company of misfits

➵ but daddy i love him! ( preacher’s daughter x daryl )

➵ a refuge in rough hands

➵ crush

➵ quiet birthdays

➵ the fall

[luimagines]

Undivorcing by Twilight

Another commission!

Same concept as the other one. A 'fix it fic' for the Divorce Headcanons for Twilight which you can reader right here!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“Can we talk?”

Those were the first words you’ve said to him after nearly a year of total silence on your part.

Instantly, his heart in his throat and his stomach has fallen through the floor. Link thinks he might vomit. He’s got half the mind to lurch over and slam the door in your face as he attempts to collect himself. 

The bout of instant dread is worse than if he was punched in the gut. Instead of slamming the door in your face like he wants to, he finds himself frozen. He’s back where it all started, in the kitchen with a piece of paper in your hand as you read out loud all his faults and sins. Every piece of evidence that equivocates him to a bad husband in your mind comes back to the forefront of his as he stares at you.

You’re staring right back at him, fidgeting your hands nervously like you were asking him to a first date instead. You gulp and rub your palms down your shirt, running your hands through your hair soon after.

Frankly, you look horrible.

Matted hair, dark circles under your eyes, holes on your pants and stains on your shirt. You look thinner than before and you’re certainly paler than how he remembers you- what happened to you?

“Link, please?” You gulp again, hugging your arms around your chest. “I- I know you have every right to slam the door in my face, and I have no right to ask this of you. …But I just… I couldn’t not do this.”

“You want closure.” He assumes and takes a deep breath. The knot in his stomach only gets tighter, but he wants to think he does a good job of keeping the way he wants to cry off of his face. He thought he was doing better. He thought he was getting over you.

One look at you and his armor shatters into oblivion. 

“Well… yes and no.” You try to correct him. You shrink down on yourself and struggle to meet his eyes. The shame is clearly written all over your face.

“...What do you mean by that?” Link lean on the door frame. The angle makes his look angrier than he feels, colder than he bleeds- he’s just using it to make sure he doesn’t fall to your feet.

“I was just…” You bite your own tongue. With the way you wince afterwards, Link is tempted to assume that you’ve made yourself bleed. “I wanted to apologize. You deserve an apology. I was a monster. A cold hearted serpent with ice in my veins.”

You take another deep breath and force yourself to look at his face. You open your mouth but no sound comes out. Link can see you struggle to keep eye contact but he’s afraid to show the same amount of vulnerability.  “...I’ve missed you.” You gulp. “I… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have asked for the divorce. …I want to start over.”

Start over? Something cracks. Twilight isn’t sure if it was his heart or his mind but it allows him to stand up straight and meet your eyes with a gaze he’s never directed at you before.

You can see the storm you start and pre-emptively flinch, taking a step back. “Link-”

“You want to do what?” He says quietly.

It sounds like cannon fire in the otherwise quiet corner of the village.

Link runs his hand through his hair, choking on the laugh that tries to leave his lips. He can feel bouts of hysteria begin to build within him. Are you serious? Do you hear yourself right now? Couldn’t you hear yourself the day you read out loud the list of why you wanted to leave him?

But isn’t this what he wanted? Didn’t want you to get back together? Hasn’t he missed you too?

No. Not like this. Somehow this feels like an even worse scenario than he thought it would be. 

Link takes a deep breath, dragging his hand through his hair again and down his face. He inadvertently claws at his skin, leaving angry red lines on his cheek. He gets off of the door frame and moves away from the entrance, beginning to pace in the house, your house.

“Do you-?” He speaks, cutting himself off as he turns back to you. “Do you have any idea how long I spent waiting for you?”

That is not what he meant to say. Link has no idea why those were the words that left his mouth when that wasn’t remotely on his mind. He takes another deep breath, rubbing his cheek in an attempt to get his head back on straight. He can’t afford to let you in so easily. That’s how he got his heart broken by you the first time.

You begin to cry. “I don’t. But I can guess. I’m sorry, Link. I’m sorry. I know you loved me. I know I was the one that ruined us. I ruined everything. I know it’s my fault.”

You take a deep breath, smothering the tears over your cheek in your attempt to wipe them away. You smear dirt on your skin. Link has never seen you this filthy. You continue talking, keeping your head hung low in shame. “I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I hurt you. I hurt you badly. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry. Please-”

Link says your name softly, choking on his own spit. “Where did you even go?”

“Far.” You admit without missing a beat. “I couldn’t stand the looks that the village gave me when they learned I was leaving you. I already knew that if they had to pick, that they would choose you over me. I knew that. I still did it. I was still bracing myself for it but I couldn't take it in the end and left Hyrule.”

You hiccup. It sounds pathetic. “I went to Hebra for a while. I didn’t go to Castle Town because everything there reminded me of you as well. Your stupid hero’s legacy is imprinted everywhere you look… It’s not stupid. I’m sorry. I know it was hard for you.” You wipe your face again, getting it dirtier. “I stopped by wastelands for a month when I was feeling my lowest. The whole time I wanted comfort and a hug and someone to talk to and found myself looking for you when you weren’t there.”

Link clenches his jaw at the sight of you. He’s adult enough to recognize that he’s never hated you for what you’ve done to him. He could take the humiliation, the multiple hits to his pride and his heart and the echoing silence that now fills the house you once shared. But he could never hold onto the thought of something happening to you. He always prayed for your safety, your health and your wellbeing.

And he’s never been able to stand your tears.

Sighing, he steps closer and reaches his hand out, intending to wipe the mess you’ve made on your cheeks. You take a step back, hugging yourself close and shrink into a small ball of shame and self loathing.

“Don’t cry.” He says instead, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place this time. He wipes the wet streaks from your face with the backs of his fingers. “You’ve always kept your head held high. Don’t stop now.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t-.. I don’t-”

“Shhh…” He says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “If you’re expecting me to start yelling, stop it. I don’t want to get loud.”

You gulp, sniffling and whimpering pathetically as you struggle to keep yourself from crying some more. “You should. I’d deserve it. You can yell at me if you want.”

“But I won’t.” Link pulls you closer to him and against his better judgment, begins to lead you into the house. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You can tell me the whole story when you have decent clothes on and some food in you.”

“Link-”

“This way.” 

He leaves no room for argument, pushing in the direction of the bath with a towel and some spare clothes of his. You don’t ask if there’s anything of your clothes left in the house. Of course, he knows where they are, but he doesn’t want you to know that he didn’t bother to toss them out. He put them in the corner of the closet where no sunlight, moth or dust could touch them.

He’ll wash them later and give them to you.

While you focus on cleaning yourself and getting all the dirt and grime off of your body, Link decides to fight off the building panic by making Yeto’s soup. Cheese, milk, pumpkin- does he have everything?

The smell permeates through the air quickly, filling the home once again with comfort and warmth despite the unforeseen circumstances that had brought you back to him. He’s not sure if he should be grateful to the forces that may be, or if he should tear his heart out for a second time before it can be trampled on for old time’s sake. 

You emerge in an old shirt that Link isn’t sure where it came from and with pants that clearly do not fit you. Then again, why would they? They’re also his.

You look a lot better. You took the liberty of using his comb to tidy up your hair while all your new lines and edges of your face highlight just how not well you’ve been doing. You’re no longer crying at least. The dirt is gone and your skin has gotten a little warmer in tone, no doubt from the warm water.

The soup is almost done at least.

“Link-”

Link says nothing, pointing to the table for you to sit down.

You look over and notice that there’s still two chairs on a very empty table. Head down, you wordlessly go to sit down at your old chair and make yourself comfortable. Or at the very least make yourself as physically comfortable as you can be in a moment like this.

Within minutes, Link walks over with a steaming bowl of soup and places it in front of you. Without another word, he walks to the other side of the table and takes his place on his chair. He leans back against the back of it and crosses his arms. “Eat.”

You gulp, your mouth and throat feeling incredibly dry since you’ve arrived at the old house you’ve once shared. You take the spoon and very slowly begin to feed yourself the soup that Link has offered you under his supervision. It’s weird. You feel conflicted. It’s awkward and tense.

Link takes a deep breath, relaxing enough that you won’t know the difference if you were to look up and see him. He feels better to see you eating. The bruising under your eyes hasn’t gone away but surely it would look better after a good night’s sleep.

The pregnant silence weighs heavily on the both of you. The only thing to keep it from stagnating is the quiet clinks of your spoon against the bowl and your collective soft breaths. 

“...Were you serious?”

Link surprises himself by speaking first. You almost jump from the sudden sound but manage to keep your reactions to yourself.

A sniffle. A nod. “I understand if you don’t want me back. I was so-”

“Stay then.” He says, gulping down the emotion that threatens to override his reasoning. “...If you truly think we can still work-”

“You’re going to forgive me?” You say breathlessly. You don’t believe him. “After everything?”

Link bites the inside of his cheek but nods.

“Why? Why give me another chance to mess this up?”

“...Because I still love you.” He whispers.  “Stay.”

Tears pour over your eyes again.

“...I will.”

[bunniidollii]

trailerpark!rafe 🤝 spanking like need i say more

it was the small things that set you off, always leaving you in a bad mood for the rest of the day whilst rafe had to deal with your attitude. he tries his best to be patient, but when the whining turns full temper tantrum, he’s had enough and is quick to bend you over his knee. at home it’s easy, the car is risky yet still possible, but in public, you’d find yourself escorted (practically manhandled) to the nearest empty room. and that’s how you found yourself, mid summer bbq, hips uncomfortably trapped between the sink and your boyfriend’s form leaning over you. first it was because the dress you had planned on wearing turned out to have a massive stain all down the front. then rafe took too long getting ready, and you ended up late. they then ran out of veggie burgers, so you were stuck eating the squeaky halloumi while your boyfriend devoured his burger. a neighbour had made a comment about the length of your skirt, which left you snappy with anyone else who attempted to make conversation with you. it was after a nasty run in with your aunt who had never approved of your relationship, that led to rafe pulling you into the small downstairs bathroom. he was quick to flip up your skirt to expose your backside that was barely covered by the white lace you were wearing. his calloused hands pulled at the thin material, causing your hips to rise slightly to avoid the friction and a whine to leave your lips. a hand was placed over your mouth, and rafe tugged harder on your panties in response, before finally speaking.

“you havin’ fun embarrassin’ me out there, with all your whining— hey, don’t you go stomping your feet now” his gruff voice was cut off when you tried to do your usual attempt of retaliation by stomping your feet and whinging until rafe gave in. annoying him beyond extent always got you your way, while the little punishments to try and stop you only spurred you on.

“things weren’t going my way—” you were cut off by a sharp slap on your ass as rafe pulled your panties impossibly higher, with the friction against your clit causing you to let out a light moan. “things don’t always go your way, kiddo, you gotta learn to deal with that.” another slap as his free hand snaked around your throat, “cant be going round havin’ a big ol’ tantrum when something don’t end up how you wanted it to, s’not how real life works.”

rafe gave you another few slaps, leaving a blush of red subtle enough to not draw attention when you returned to the bbq. “you gonna stop being such a crybaby now, doll?” you were turned around, still wedged between your boyfriend and the counter, but facing him instead. he could see the tired look in your eyes and knew you were bordering past your social battery. you just latched your arms around his neck, rafe following your cue as he picked up your legs to wrap them around his waist, picking you up and setting you down on the counter. you just pawed at the collar of his shirt, not bothering to look up at him as you sank into his embrace. “gotta handle just an hour longer, and then we can head on home, alright? and we can forget all about today in a bit, i’ll take care of that, don’t you worry.”

“yes daddy” the familiar doe eyed look on your face as you stared up at rafe with nothing but adoration in your eyes.

“‘s rafe, baby” he reminded you before placing a quick peck on the lips as he helped you rearrange yourself to your former socially acceptable state. he guided the two of you out, and you stood happily by his side for the rest of the evening with the hope of rafe fucking you brainless when you got home.

[avroravia]

trailer park!reader ⭒•⭒

[thef1diary]

team principal!carlos fucking the reader to sleep !!! she’s tried everything but can’t seem to go to bed 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

— a classic sleep aid, I love this! Also this turned out to be less of a drabble and more of a fic (1.6k words) oops 🤭 18+ content below

You stared at the clock on the nightstand, the numbers taunting you with every passing minute. The hotel bed that was once comfortable and took you to the depths of sleep within minutes now brought sudden aches in your body with every turn. Tomorrow’s race loomed over you like a storm cloud, and the harder you tried to relax, the tighter the knot in your chest became.

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen, and you hesitated for a moment longer before shaking your head and finally giving in. Dialing Carlos felt like a last resort, one you almost regretted as soon as the first ring echoed in your ear, but his voice had always been your anchor.

“Qué pasa, nena?” he answered on the second ring, his voice rough with sleep.

“I can’t sleep,” you confessed, your words a rushed whisper as if it was childish to say out loud. “I’m so nervous and worried about tomorrow.”

You half-expected him to stay on the phone, offering reassurance and calm words to lull you into sleep. Instead there was a soft rustle, and then:

“Open the door.”

“What?” you asked, startled.

“I’m here,” he said, and before you could process his words, there was a knock at your door.

You scrambled out of bed, opening it to find him standing there, dressed in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt—seemingly tossed on in a rush—with his hair adorably tousled from sleep. His dark eyes were warm, concerned, and he glanced at the hallway before stepping inside, immediately cupping your cheek.

“You should’ve called me sooner,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Didn’t want to disturb you, sir,” you replied, and he lightly chuckled, shaking his head. “For you, princesa, it’s not a disturbance.”

Heat creeped up your cheeks as you turned around, climbing back into bed and he followed without hesitation, pulling you into his arms as he settled behind you. His body molded perfectly to yours, his warmth slowly chasing away the chill of your anxiety.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve done everything right this weekend, mi amor, you just need to trust yourself.”

His hand rubbed gentle circles on your hip, his touch grounding, comforting. But even as his words melted some of the tension, your body remained taut against his, your mind refusing to quiet down.

“Still no?” he asked softly, sensing your lingering unease.

You shook your head, refusing to turn around to face him as frustration welled up in your chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Carlos. I just—”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s okay,” he interrupted, almost surprised at the way you spoke about yourself. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, murmuring against your skin softly, “turn around.”

You hesitated, but his voice was firm yet soothing, coaxing you into trust. Slowly, you turned in his arms, your eyes meeting his in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. His gaze softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin.

“You’re too hard on yourself, princesa,” he whispered, his lips just a breath away. “You’re the best driver on the grid. No one works harder than you. And you don’t have to carry this weight alone.”

Your lip quivered, the self-doubt threatening to spill over, but Carlos silenced your protests with a kiss. It was soft and reassuring at first, but when you melted into him, he deepened it, his tongue slipping past your lips to claim you fully. His hand slid down your hip, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies.

“You’ve been overthinking all night,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me quiet your mind, nena.”

When you nodded, his hand slid under your shirt, fingertips brushing your bare skin. The cool air of the room kissed your torso as he pushed the fabric up, exposing you to him. His lips travelled down your neck, trailing fire across your skin before latching onto one of your nipples, rolling it between his lips and teeth while his hand teased the other.

A soft whimper escaped you as he worked you up, his ministrations both careful and consuming. His free hand wandered lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your panties, and further still to press against your pussy.

“Sir…” you breathed, but he silenced you with a firm press of his fingers against your clit.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Relax for me, mi princesa. Let me take care of you.”

Carlos was both gentle and commanding, his touch a perfect balance of softness and control. He was careful with you, mindful of your upcoming race, yet there was a rough edge to his movements—a desperation to erase every ounce of tension from your body.

He settled between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands gently spreading you open and pulling your panties to the side. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, his lips brushing against your pussy. “But I’m not stopping until you’re too tired to think.”

The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, your hands fisting the sheets as he worked you over with slow, deliberate strokes. Carlos knew your body better than anyone, and he used that knowledge to his advantage, alternating between gentle flicks and firm pressure that had your hips bucking against his mouth.

Each flick, each press of his tongue against your clit sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, your breaths turning into soft, breathy moans that only encouraged him further.

“Carlos,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as the tension in your body coiled tighter.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. “That’s it, nena,” he murmured, pausing to press a kiss to your inner thigh. “You’re so sweet and wet for me.”

Carlos kissed his way back up your body, his lips soft and warm against your flushed skin. He reached down, tugging your panties off and tossing them aside before shedding his own clothes in one fluid motion. His body was warm and solid against yours as he positioned himself above you, his hand stroking gently along your thigh.

His dark eyes searched yours for any signs of hesitation, but instead, you muttered a plea, urging him to fuck you.

Carlos guided his cock to your folds, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly pushed in. The stretch was delicious, his size filling you completely as he moved with deliberate care, giving you more time to adjust than usual.

“Perfect,” he rasped, his voice strained as he fought to keep his composure. “You feel so perfect, nena.”

He set a slow, sensual rhythm, each thrust deep and unhurried, his movements designed to draw out every ounce of pleasure. His hands roamed your body, caressing your hips, your waist, your tits, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your body responded instinctively, meeting his movements with your own as the two of you found a rhythm that was unhurried yet all-consuming. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your breaths and the gentle creak of the bed, your thoughts and the world outside fading into nothingness as Carlos focused solely on you.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and possessive, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his hips rocked against yours. The connection between you was electric, every touch, every kiss, every thrust designed to remind you of his love and devotion to you, to your career.

You felt yourself reach the edge slowly, the heat pooling low in your belly as Carlos kept his pace steady, his thrusts deep and deliberate. You moaned against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as he slowly coaxed out the energy within you.

“Please,” you gasped as you pulled back, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own labored breaths and skin slapping against skin.

“Go on, make a mess,” he murmured, his breath grazing the shell of your ear. Your only response was a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. Carlos groaned at the motion, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing deeper and more deliberate.

He set a punishing rhythm, his hands gripping your hips as he buried himself in you over and over. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your soft cries mixing with his low groans. Your nails raked down his back, and he hissed at the sensation, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

Your body trembled as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, and he whispered again, “now let go, cum for me, nena.”

With his words, you came with a cry that echoed through the room, your body arching off the bed as waves of ecstasy washed over you. He followed soon after, his release spilling into you as he buried himself to the hilt.

Carlos collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he caught his breath. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“Better?” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, whispering a “thank you,” as your eyes fluttered shut as the tension that had gripped you all night melted away. Carlos held you close, his warmth and presence grounding you as sleep finally began to take over.

“Sweet dreams, mi amor,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead as he settled beside you, his breathing evening out as sleep claimed him too.

want more team principal!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days