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oneforthemunny · 29 days

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light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

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ashwhowrites · 6 months

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Yay! Your requests are open again!

Eddie + Reader are divorced, but parted on good terms. One day they are at a b-day of one of their mutual friends and get a little tipsy. They start talking and eventually hook up that night.

Reader finds out she is pregnant and decides to keep the baby with Eddie's full support. Throughout the pregnancy, they fall back in love.

<3 Thank you.

This is so cute. A happy ending!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Oh, Baby

Falling in love young is always an unexpected journey. Y/N and Eddie felt unstoppable as they fell in love. Young teens that dove into something bigger than they thought they could handle. Fire and full of passion, speeding through too fast for either of them to see when it started to fall apart. They got married right after high school, hitched off to Vegas and she took his last name. Everyone thought they were crazy and dumb. But isn't the saying only fools go rushing in?

The start of their marriage was a fairytale. It was everything they dreamed of and knew they would prove everyone wrong. Because they knew they were meant to be and there was no one else they would ever be with. They fit perfectly together.

As hard as it was, they discovered people change as they grow up. And sometimes can't change together. Eddie and her wanted too many different things, which led them to realize they were meant to be together young, and not to grow old with.

They ended on good terms, both wishing the best for each other. They didn't keep much in contact, knowing it was easier to move on if they went their separate ways. They didn't have anything tying them together so they let go.

~~~

Steve decided to throw himself a huge birthday party for turning thirty. And since he was a friend of Eddie's and Y/N's they both knew there was a chance they'd run into each other.

Y/N may have gotten a new dress and tried extra hard with her makeup. She may have sprayed on Eddie's favorite perfume she used to wear during their marriage. She might have been eyeing the door, dying to see him again.

Eddie may have rolled up his sleeves in the way Y/N always liked. He may have dosed his neck in the cologne that made her legs weak. He might have tied up his hair in a lower bun, knowing his loose curls drove her insane. He might have smoked a cigarette on the way as he calmed his nerves.

Once he walked in, the magnetic connection between them yanked them together instantly. His eyes latched on her as she walked over to him. His nose inhaled her sweet perfume as she wrapped her arms around him. He bit his lip when he pulled away, no shame in checking her out.

She could smell the cologne on his skin, craving to taste him again. She blushed under his stare, the dress doing what she wanted. She couldn't help but check him out as well. She bit her lip as she noticed his thick arms underneath his tight button-up, his sleeves rolled so his tattoos showed. The fancy watch on his wrist and rings on his fingers. Yet, the only finger that remained empty was his ring finger.

"You look incredible." He complimented, his voice deep and raspy. It reminded her of his morning voice, how he'd roll over and whisper right against her ear.

"Thanks, Eds. You do too." Eddie felt like he got lost in her smile all over again.

"Eddie! You made it!" Steve cheered, dragging Eddie out of the room. His brown eyes looked back at her until she was out of his sight.

~~~

The last few people were starting to head out. Y/N had her feet in the pool as she sipped her drink. Steve was picking things up in the backyard, keeping a close eye on her.

"Sure you don't want me to bring you home?" He asked, but she shook off his offer.

"No, I think I'm good to drive." Steve accepted her answer and walked inside. He gave a small smile to Eddie as he passed him. Eddie had his hands in his pockets as he walked up to her. She smiled as he sat next to her, his back to the pool as he stretched out his legs. His shoulder rested against hers as he looked at her.

Neither knew how long they were out there, talking for hours. But they got the cue to leave once Steve was ready for bed.

Just like old times, she held his hand as they walked to his car. His hand was on her thigh as she hummed to the radio. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, but the smile on her face never left. The same feelings she felt on their first date were happening again.

"You still haven't fixed that front step!" Eddie laughed, following behind Y/N as she unlocked the front door. The same house they lived in together before Eddie moved out. Eddie remembered breaking that step when they moved in, carrying way too many boxes.

"It's our first memory in this house, I never want to fix it." She shrugged, taking off her shoes as he walked in behind her. He looked around, not much had changed. The pictures of them were taken off the walls, and replaced with their friends. All the things he took with him kept the place empty, he realized she never replaced his things with anything new.

"I kinda figured you'd make this place into your own," Eddie admitted, walking further into the small house. He didn't hear her behind him, and she didn't say a word.

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. She let Eddie look around the house as she grabbed the glasses and headed to the couch.

After a second, Eddie joined her. Both filled up the silence with random conversations as they sipped glass after glass.

As time went on, she found herself and Eddie moving closer to closer. Then she felt his lips on hers, his hands eagerly touching her. She felt like he took all her breath away, his hands touching her the same way they used to. His kiss felt the same.

~~~

It's been a week since she and Eddie had sex. She felt relieved that he was still there when she woke up. It was awkward at first, neither knowing what to say or what the next step was.

But they were divorced, and they had to remind themselves of that.

She didn't plan on seeing Eddie much after that, just a little backslide but she's back on the path of moving forward.

That was until she found out she was pregnant. She knew it was Eddie's since she hadn't been with anyone lately. She was worried Eddie might not want to be brought back together again. But the excitement that was on his face washed all her worries away. He cheered and spun her around.

He always wanted a family and he always wanted it with her.

He didn't let her do a single thing alone. He went to every appointment, holding her hand as they stared at the screen. They went to every baby store, and he insisted on buying everything she wanted. Together they worked on the nursery at her house, Eddie painted the room and cleaned up the floors. She couldn't help but feel so much love for him as he worked to put the nursery together. His touch all around the room.

Some nights he stayed on the couch, the more she grew the more nervous he got leaving her alone. If there was ever an issue, no matter the time, he'd show up at her door.

She couldn't help but wish the divorce never happened, that Eddie was still hers. But in a way, she felt like they needed the divorce to grow on their own. And be better for each other.

"I still can't believe I did that!" Eddie groaned, Y/N laughed at his embarrassment, rubbing her stomach as she retold the story of when Eddie got drunk and met her parents for the first time.

They found themselves traveling down their memories every time they hung out. Digging up old feelings and showing them on their arms.

"Why are you laughing? You met Wayne right after you sucked me off!" Eddie said, laughing as she covered her face in horror.

"We were so crazy back then." Y/N sighed after their laughter died. Her hand was on her bump as she looked at him. "We were so in love and inseparable. What happened to us?"

Eddie looked over at her, his hand reaching to rub her stomach. His eyes were soft as he looked into her eyes.

"We grew up. I was nowhere near a good husband for you. I wanted to be, but we were too young to try to save a love like that. But there was never a day I didn't think about you." He admitted, dropping to his knees as he rested his chin on her bump.

She leaned down and rubbed his cheek, melting at his brown eyes.

"I always thought about you too. I know we were young and neither of us knew how to fight for each other, just against each other. But do you ever think about us if we did make it through? If we kept trying instead of giving up?"

"Sometimes," Eddie admitted, leaning into her touch. "But look where we are now. I think we needed to grow up on our own. Without the fear of disappointing each other. It helped us truly focus on just ourselves. And now? We are having a baby. Exactly where I always wanted to be with you." He kissed her stomach softly, resting his head against her as she played with his hair.

Before she could say something, she felt something. A harsh cramp in her stomach. She gasped and gripped Eddie's shoulders. His worried eyes looked at her as he felt something in her stomach.

"Was that?"

"Did he?"

Then another cramp, Y/N smiled when she realized their baby was kicking.

"Eddie! He's kicking!" She announced, Eddie quickly placed his hands on her stomach.

"Kick for daddy." He said, a smile on his face as he felt a hit against his palm.

Y/N felt tears in her eyes as she watched Eddie excitedly talk to the baby and wait for kicks. The excitement in his bright eyes and the love.

"I love you." She whispered, sniffling.

He looked up, hand on her stomach and the other hand on her cheek. He rubbed her tears away.

"I love you too."

Tags!

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cutielando · 4 months

Text

with you ~ george russell

Summary: After making your relationship public, the hate you started receiving was getting to you, making you feel like you weren't enough for George. Luckily, he's there to pick you up and make you feel better.

Words: 1.1k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

You knew dating George would be hard, especially after deciding to make your relationship public.

Given the fact that his fan base consisted in a very manner of girls, that made things even more complicated. Hate comments and death threats became the norm whenever one of you would post a picture with the other.

You knew you shouldn't listen to them, they were only behaving that way because they wished they were in your place.

George knew that. You knew that. It was simple

But you couldn't help it, sometimes they did manage to get to you. Making you doubt yourself, thinking you were not good enough to be with someone like George, doubting your relationship.

George could always tell when this would happen.

You would go quiet all of a sudden, you would just stare at your phone and not even realize he would be talking to you.

Seeing you like that broke George's heart every single time. He knew how harsh his fans could be and how eager they were to rip every single person in a driver's life to absolute shreds. He saw it happen to every single driver on the track and he was no stranger to it himself.

Watching the tears stream down your eyes as you read the comments on your or his posts was something he never wanted to see ever again.

Unfortunately, that was exactly how he found you in your shared apartment once he came back early from his GP in Las Vegas.

You hadn't been able to attend because you had 2 exams that weekend, so you stayed back home but cheered him on nonetheless.

He hadn't told you exactly when he would be flying in, figuring the least he could do was surprise you by coming home earlier than expected.

What took him by surprise, though, were the sobs coming from your bedroom, quiet yet unnerving to his ears.

"Love?" he called out as he made his way towards the bedroom door, knocking on it softly before opening it.

There you were, sitting in the middle of the huge bed in one of the hoodies he had left behind, tears running down your cheeks and mascara smeared all over your face.

You sniffled once your eyes met his, not even bothering to try and hide yourself from him. You didn't have the energy for that.

"George" your voice came out like a whine as you outstretched your arms towards him like a little child, begging to be held by him.

Not even thinking for another second, he sprinted towards the bed and enveloped you in his strong hold, holding you tightly as you let out a new set of tears at the feeling of his warmth.

His heart broke at the sound of your sobs, urging him to squeeze you tighter and tighter so you could feel all the love he carried for you and only you.

Several minutes were spent like that, him holding you while you let all of your pent-up frustration and pain in his arms. You clung to him like your life depended on it and couldn't help but melt into him, feeling more at home than ever before.

Slowly, but surely, you were starting to calm down, your hysterical sobs now down to sniffles and slight hiccups.

"I'm sorry" you croaked out, your voice sore from all the crying.

"What are you sorry for? You shouldn't be apologizing to me. What happened, love?" he was cradling your face in his hands softly, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

You closed your eyes for a moment and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the soothing motion of his hands and the feeling of his skin on yours.

"I was on Instagram and a post from Mercedes popped up about your weekend in Las Vegas so I wanted to leave a comment because I'm proud of your weekend but the moment I entered the comment section it was all flooded with comments dragging me through the mud because I wasn't there with you and shit. I know I sometimes suck because I can't be there for every race and people hate me for that, but I need to finish my degree and I feel so guilty for it sometimes and-"

"Hey, sh sh. There's so need for you to feel guilty about investing in your future, love. This is your life, your education, baby. I'm so insanely proud of you for everything you're doing and don't think for a second that you have to prove your love for me or something even remotely close to that by coming to every race. No matter where you are, I know you're cheering me on and that's all that matters. I want you to focus on your studies and your future before even thinking about focusing on my career. People are jealous, baby, they're jealous because you're with me and they're not. Hating is all they know how to do. Please, don't hurt yourself by listening to some people you don't even know and people who don't get a say in how we live our lives. As long as you and I have everything figured out, that's all that matters. Do you hear me?" he asked, staring deeply into your eyes.

You let his words sink in, slowly but surely convincing yourself to listen to him.

Deep down, you knew everything he was saying was right and honest, but sometimes the pressure got to you and you would just break down.

"I hear you. I'm sorry you have to deal with this, I know you're stressed enough as it is" you said, pouting a little.

George shook his head, kissing your forehead quickly.

"Don't apologize to me for that. I'm never too busy or stressed for you. Always come to me when you're feeling like this so we can talk it out. I love you so much and I never want you to doubt yourself or our relationship"

"I love you too" you whispered, leaning in and capturing your lips with his.

You climbed onto his lap, wrapping your limbs around him like a koala bear.

Pulling away only slightly, you buried your face in his neck and wrapped your arms around his torso tightly, never wanting to let go.

Even though these moments would away creep in and make you doubt yourself, George would always be there to make sure he shut them all down.

Why?

Because you deserved to be loved and appreciated and he was determined to be the person to show you just how special you were to the people around you.

Especially to him.

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stardustluvs · 7 months

Text

Phone Sex - Sam Golbach X Colby Brock

MDNI || KINKTOBER

Word Count: 710

Pairing: Sam Golbach x Colby Brock (established)

Summary: Sam and Colby rarely spend time apart. They get lonely and miss each other a little too much.

Warnings: NSFW

Author's Note: Day three let's go! Here's some more Solby content for yall, it's good for the soul...

Requests are open! || masterlist || kinktober m.list

"I miss you," Sam said over the phone.

Colby had gone back to Kansas for the weekend, something about his parents had come up, leaving Sam alone at their place in Vegas.

He would've went with, but traveling just took such a toll on him mentally, and they had only just returned from a long filming trip as is. He feared for his mental health if he would have left again.

"You should've come with," Colby teased.

Being in Kansas without Sam was strange too. They rarely spent time apart like this and now Colby has to last the whole weekend without Sam?

"You know I couldn't have," Sam sighed.

Colby nodded. He did know, even if he didn't like to admit that. Honestly, since the two of them decided to start dating, Colby's felt so much more clingy towards Sam, but honestly, them starting to date was something that just sort of happened.

Eventually they started holding hands and sharing quick kisses to the cheek...and then to the lips...and it only elevated from there.

It was magical almost, the way their relationship just worked and they'd always put each other first.

"We could still have fun though, y'know," Colby said, smirking a little afterwards.

Sam was almost certain that Colby's words had a sexual undertone to them, and God was he right.

"Colby..." Sam said softly under his breath.

"C'mon Sam, why're you worrying?" Colby asked.

"I''m not worrying, it would just be better if you were here," He admitted.

"I know, but I promise I'll make it up to you when I'm back," Colby promised.

Sam smiled a little at this, "Okay," he agreed.

"Can you set your phone up for me?" Colby asked, though it wasn't much of an actual question despite his words disguising it as one.

Sam nodded softly, positioning his phone up so it wouldn't fall, letting Colby get a good view of him.

"Take your shirt off, Sammy," Colby said, losing his own shirt as well.

Sam discarded his shirt to the floor somewhere.

"Look at you, my pretty boy," Colby praised, beginning to palm himself through his pants.

Sam's eyes were glued to his phone screen, watching as Colby felt himself.

Sam couldn't help himself as he copied Colby's actions, beginning to feel himself through his jeans. His hips stuttered a bit and he couldn't help trying to grind up into his hand.

God how he wished Colby were home right now.

Sam whined a little, not even meaning to.

Colby's hand slipped into his pants, groaning a little as his hand finally made contact to his dick.

"Show me yourself, Sam, wanna see you," Colby groaned softly.

Sam listened and shuffled his pants and boxers off, exposing himself in front of his phone camera for Colby.

He was painfully hard and was getting more and more desperate for his release.

Colby bit down on his lip a little, pushing his own pants and boxers down.

His hand wrapped back around his dick, resuming his previous action of pumping himself. He kept his eyes on Sam, silently giving the blond permission to touch himself.

Sam started moving at the same speed as Colby was, forever wishing it was Colby who was getting him off right now in person, instead of having to settle for a facetime call.

"Colby I'm getting so close, fuck," Sam groaned out.

"Keep going, cum for me," Colby told him, starting to get faster with his movements.

It didn't take too much longer for Sam to cum at Colby's request. His hips stuttered as he came, spurts of white covered parts of his skin and the covers underneath of him on his bed.

Colby came soon after, the sight having set him off, cursing under his breath. His head fell backwards, a groan that was probably too loud escaped his lips.

"Mm, fuck, can't wait to do that but in person," Colby laughed after catching his breath. Sam agreed softly before cleaning himself up, cuddling up under the covers.

"Can we like, not hang up tonight?" He asked Colby, yawning a little.

"Of course, anything you want," Colby replied, getting comfortable as well.

The both of them were fast asleep before any other words were spoken.

#solby #solby smut #sam and colby #sam x colby #sam and colby fanfic #sam and colby smut #colby brock #sam golbach #sam golbach smut #colby brock smut #sam x colby smut #solby fanfic #kinktober

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gabessquishytum · 3 months

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Hob is a widower senator who can't afford a reelection scandal; Dream is an of age (but younger) campaign intern hoping to work his way up in Hob's campaign and make it on to his paid staff. I'm thinking for ages --- DILF Hob with Dream being in his mid to late 20s, still closer in age to Hob's son Robyn than Hob himself,,, just skirting Hob is old enough to be Dream's father.

Hob and Dream hit it off right away, it helps that Dream is good at his job. It doesn't get super sexy right away - but they are both painfully aware of the other all the time. Chief of Staff Joanna even tries to set Dream and Robyn up, more age appropriate, but all that does is make Dream and Robyn friends and have Dream over at the Gadling house more frequently.

Hob and Dream hold off as best they can (steamy kisses in back rooms don't count); the night of Hob's reelection, after Hob's victory speech, they have all the sex.

If Hob wants to be more than a Senator, he, Dream, and their team are going to have to figure out how to roll out the relationship, before the press catches wind.

I live for this kind of au. I love the idea of Hob being like... surprisingly chill, for a Senator with his career on the line. He'd totally be willing for his relationship with Dream to be in the open - it's DREAM who's the one urging caution and holding him back from potentially tanking his whole career.

Hob just wants Dream so much. Not just in a "holy shit I want to obliterate that twink" way (that is definitely part of it). He cares about Dream’s opinions and ambitions, he loves Dream’s passion and genuinely sees a forever future for them together. All of which is very inconvenient for Dream, who tries to keep Hob at arm's length but ends up melting and falling even more in love after every conversation.

They literally fuck while the votes are being counted on election night. Jo is running around the headquarters searching for Hob, having no idea that he's down in the parking area eating Dream out in the back of his car. He doesn't even care much if he doesn't win (okay, he does care, but not for the sake of his personal pride). He's a lot more invested in making Dream cum.

At thus point only Robyn knows the truth (the poor guy caught them fucking in the laundry room - you'd think an entire mansion would be big enough to avoid seeing your dad's dick, but apparently not!) And his suggestions for integrating Dream into the family include "pretend that he's MY boyfriend" and "pretend you got accidentally married in Vegas and he doesn't believe in divorce". Neither of which are super helpful. Although all the talk of marriage does make Dream blush very prettily.

In the end Hob just goes rogue (and Jo is so close to quitting, SO fucking close) by making an impromptu "I'm so supportive of the LGBT+ community that I've decided to get myself a boyfriend" speech. Dream hates the whole thing... but it is rather nice to not be anyone's dirty little secret anymore. He's not allowed to work under Hob (hah) but he does get a good post working for another Senator. It means no sex at work... but a lot of sexts from Hob. He certainly has the stamina to drive Dream wild all day, AND deliver the goods when they get home.

Someone get poor Robyn out of there. Having a dilf for a dad should definitely entitle him to compensation...

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw age gap

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safetycar-restart · 5 months

Note

Soft night! I'm down (welcome back btw)

Lando post Vegas. Just got him back from the hospital after his check-up, that goofy smile still on his face cos the hospital knows he's good for the bill, so he's on the strong, expensive pain meds!

They've made him all sleepy, but also horny but he can't do anything about it cos again. Too sleepy! Just a whiny, frustrated mess! 🐇

I… I think whiney, desperate but too tired to help themselves boys are my new kink… this is entirely fault. Anyway, let’s discuss!!

Of course when he first gets taken to the hospital he’s so panicked and he has no idea what to do. He’s so scared that he might have a serious injury. He’s in a lot of pain too, so they give him plenty of pain meds before they check him out.

He’s an anxious mess until he hears the results of the tests, keeping a death grip on your hand and shaking a little.

But once hears that it’s all fine and he actually starts to accept that? Yeah he becomes so loopy!! He starts giggling at absolutely everything at first, and then he’s demanded cuddles, making grabby hands for you because you’re not in the bed with him and that’s absolutely unacceptable. He requires cuddles!! Now!!

He enters the tired, horny phase about halfway through the drive back to the hotel. You’re in the backseat with him, being driven by someone from mclaren and he’s trying his level best to get his hand under your shirt while he’s curled up against you. Only he’s not very coordinated at that moment so it’s more like hes just batting your shirt and whining.

You roll your eyes at his antics but still keep him close, knowing that if you pushing him away he’ll be whining much much louder.

Luckily the car ride ends before Lando figures out how to get a hand under your shirt and you quickly take him up to the hotel room, thanking the mclaren staff and bidding them goodnight, promising that you’ll take good care of Lando (all while Lando is hugging you from behind and trying to drag you back into the hotel room).

Once the door has closed and he’s satisfied that you can’t leave (he seems to have forgotten that doors can be opened again), he flops face down on the bed. He whines a little and then turns onto his side and curls up, lifting a hand up to you to indicate you must come join him.

That’s when you notice he’s hard, and is halfheartedly canting his hips like he’s trying to get friction. He looks down at his crotch then back at you and whines, clearly frustrated but for some reason unable to help himself out of this dilemma.

You consider refusing to help him, but then you think about how he’s clearly feeling tired and frustrated and probably still a little sore from the crash and anxious from the hospital trip and he just…. He deserves to feel good.

So he gets a sleepy hand job in your arms where he hides against your chest and clings to you and comes embarrassingly quickly but that’s more than fine with you because he deserved it.

The next day when you ask him about it, he says his memories are a little fuzzy but he knows you made him feel safe and good.

#sub!Lando #ln #soft soft vibes #nsfw.#gn!reader #🐇

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lu-sn · 1 year

Text

i've got this highly incoherent pete meta floating around in my head please bear with me

we know that pete is the type of person who seems open and friendly but is actually completely walled up. nobody knows anything about pete's deepest desires or fears or issues because he doesn't talk about them. he's the perfect listener, and finds personal value in checking in on people and listening to them and helping them out, and uses this (possibly unconsciously) as a shield so that no one asks him anything about himself.

so i think it's interesting to consider the exceptions to this, and what it means for him going forwards as someone dating vegas, who is absolutely not going to let that behavior slide.

let's start with the few times that pete opens up in the show, about things that are likely painful for him:

ep3: pete tells porsche he used to play heroes and villains as a kid, and now he knows there's no such thing

ep5: pete tells porsche that tankhun punished him pretty badly once before and it sucked

ep11: pete tells vegas that his dad used to beat him, and never stopped

ep13: pete tells vegas he doesn't feel human anymore and wants to die

ep14: pete tells vegas he's hungry and vegas needs to live to feed him

and one singular instance where he doesn't open up:

ep13: porsche asks pete what happened to him and pete asks him to drop it

now it is time for me to extrapolate a ton of conclusions from relatively little data. hehe

most of these can be summarized as "pete is packaging his past trauma as life experience and offering it up to people as advice / solidarity." note that the trauma is in the past, and pete is not currently experiencing it. he's able to distance his feelings from his truama, talk about it clearly and rationally, and convey the lessons he learned to others who need those lessons right now.

i think this is a way for him to seem like he's open about his feelings without actually being open about feelings that he is CURRENTLY vulnerable about. he can relate to people and connect to their pain, but conveniently is not in any pain for the other party to connect back with him. i don't mean for this to sound like this is reprehensible, on his part. it's just part of why people can think they're close with pete. he's told them things about himself! and then it's much harder to realize that he never tells you these things when he's going through them.

and then there are the instances where he is feeling so much, and is visibly losing it. notably, both of the times where he actually says anything — are to vegas! he doesn't say anything to porsche, even though porsche really tries to get it out of him (granted, he's got good reasons to keep his mouth shut). vegas doesn't even ask, though. either time.

so when, exactly, does he choose to be vulnerable?

in ep14, he tells vegas he's hungry. this absolutely does not come out of his mouth easily. and i'm not sure he would have ever said it, except it was probably the only thing he could have said to vegas to convince vegas that living was worth something. so he is still, kind of sort of, packaging his trauma for someone else. but it's mutually beneficial. if he does it, vegas lives. if vegas lives, he has something worth living for.

in ep13, though? what he's saying about himself doesn't benefit vegas at all. it is truly the only time in the show he speaks up about his pain, for his own self-preservation and nobody else's. and it's when he's been pushed so far past his normal coping mechanisms (smile, don't talk about it, keep it to yourself until it passes, it will pass) and is buried under a huge volume of conflicting emotion. he has been pushed to the brink, and he can't handle it anymore.

this is what it takes, for him to open up and be honest about his pain.

so in the future? if vegas wants pete to tell him what's wrong? vegas is going to have to:

notice when pete is feeling down (likely)

confront him about it (a little harder)

get past all of pete's deflecting without getting angry about it (unlikely, especially early on)

push him to some sort of emotional limit to actually get him to talk (doable! but can he do it in a way that doesn't rely on making pete feel like shit? dunno. is it gonna be kinky either way? probably)

and do all of this before pete gets all of his emotions in order and suppresses them (this is like playing a video game with permadeath on tbh)

in short, vegas is fucked 😂 but by god, is he gonna try. and it's gonna hurt so much for pete, in a way he's absolutely resistant to, because he just cannot be experiencing feelings and talking about them at the same time. it's gonna suck so bad. and whenever vegas gets it wrong, it's going to set them back weeks.

but eventually, there's gonna be a day where vegas asks what's wrong and pete just — answers. and it'll keep happening. and that's what healing looks like.

#the braincells are vibrating so i must let them have at it #me tinkering at the gears in pete's brain: explain yourself now #tbh some of this feels a little too much like tinkering at the gears in my brain #it's free therapy #anyways there are a handful of excellent vp fics that dig into this but not enough for me i want them alllll #ghosthouses has a good one if i am remembering correctly!#ok the brain has been cleaned out it's bedtime gnight #kinnporsche #pete saengtham #vegaspete

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montrealmadison · 2 months

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Tater 27 please ?

i have never written tater before - ever! - so this was incredibly fun! thank you so much for the prompt and for helping me stretch my writing muscles a little bit ❤️ the only things i know about patater are inspired by a frankly shocking quantity of sidgeno rpf so make of that what you will

27. tater + i’m so tired by lauv & Troye Sivan for @shygryf

Strangers, killing my lonely nights with strangers And when they leave, I go back to our song, I hold on Hurts like heaven, lost in the sound Buzzcut season like you're still around Can't unmiss you, but I need you now

Tater’s letting some girl he doesn’t know shoot tequila out of his belly button when he gets the text.

Kent Parson: you awake? Kent Parson: sorry know it’s late

It is late, three or so, and the club’s fun but the idea of not being here is just as good. Maybe it’s rude, but he doesn’t care; he props his elbow on the table for better leverage and sends back, yes, and then ok?

Kent Parson: no Kent Parson: popped my achilles Kent Parson: we're out

Shit. That means the end of their playoff run, which in turn means about five hundred other things. He doesn’t even have the chance to formulate a response before Kent adds, will you come?

A cold thing settles in Tater’s chest, a weighty purpose that he doesn’t stop to examine. Maybe it's the shots making this seem like a good idea; of course he will, and that’s the end of it. There’s something about clambering up off the table, tequila soaking down into his open fly, and shouldering his way to the exit without a word that makes him feel about a thousand feet tall.

read more below or on ao3 | request a fic here

Kent lives in a nice building. Not nice enough for the security guy downstairs to make any real effort to stop Tater from getting in, but then, Tater is six foot seven and built like the desks that lesser men hide behind. He hits the button for the elevator and zips upward, chewing on his lip, watching the numbers tick higher.

This is stupid. This is an absurd way to spend a thousand dollars and God knows how many days, catching a frantic red-eye to Vegas like he’s going to be able to do anything the Aces’ trainers haven’t already tried. It’s more absurd that he stands in the hallway with his fist poised to knock on Kent’s front door for at least five minutes, wondering if he should have brought food. Does the kid even eat? He’s awfully tiny.

He finally gets over himself and knocks. There’s a voice from inside at once: “Open.”

Tater does.

The apartment is nice, modern. It’s also a complete fucking mess. There are ostentatiously dirty shoes scattered all over the entryway, possibly-related scuff marks up the bare white walls. Tater has to do this dainty hop through a minefield of Yeezys just to make it to solid ground, and is very glad that no one can see him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Parson?”

“In the living room.”

Tater drops his bag in the kitchen and heads for the voice. The close little hallway seems much more inviting than it did in the dark last time he was here, and the living room is spacious and airy without a couple hundred bodies packing it. There’s a big TV on one wall, running something trashy. In the middle of the room is that ugly couch, brown suede and covered with cat hair, and in the middle of the couch is Kent.

Relief spreads through Tater at once, numbing the tingle in his hands. Okay, so maybe he spent the whole five-hour trip picturing the worst-case scenario. Guys in their line of work are not, as a rule, great at handling their injuries, especially later in the season; Tater only has to look at Jack for proof of that one. But Kent’s eyes are clear, if tired and a little wet-looking, and he’s sprawled out comfortably with his hand in Kit’s fur and his wrapped ankle carefully supported by a pile of throw pillows. He’s wearing ratty old sweats, white socks gone gray on the bottoms, a couple days’ worth of scruff that marks his sorry excuse for a playoff beard.

“Shit, man,” he says, seeing Tater in the doorway. “You came.”

“You call.”

It’s not quite that simple, but somehow, faced with the fact of Kent’s obvious, boneless relief at having him here, it feels like the right sentiment.

“I did,” Kent says. He sounds croaky, exhausted. The deep shadows under his eyes make them look more green. Tater wonders if he’s slept, or how much. “Thanks.”

He has this weird impulse to poke the bear, which maybe isn’t fair to Kent, but it’s all he knows how to do.

“You miss me?” he asks, slouching further into the room. Kit lifts her head imperiously to watch him settle a polite distance away on the couch. “That why you ask me, not teammate?”

This is the dynamic they built at the bar, in the darkness of Kent’s bedroom: push and pull, catch and release. Things are still too new, too fragile between them; they’ve never implied a sense of belonging to each other, or at least not the kind that prompts something like this.

As it stands, Kent doesn’t play along with the teasing, and that’s what finally gives Tater a sense of how shitty he feels.

“Let ‘em grieve, right?” he says listlessly, tipping his head into the back of the couch. “Shit game. Didn’t wanna bother them.”

You were okay with bothering me, Tater thinks but does not say. A guy you’ve hooked up with twice who lives across the country. What the fuck does that mean?

He knows what he wants, what he wants it to mean. It’s part of what caught his eye in the first place: this kid is so, so young to be a captain, to bear this weight. The Aces are out of the playoffs not because they played their hardest, but thanks to a non-call and an injury that’ll have Kent in PT all summer. Now he’s curled up on the couch in his disaster of an apartment with only the cat for company, his teammates pushed away or otherwise nowhere to be found. It’s incongruous with the spitfire who finds a reason to drop gloves every time they share the ice, who likes to have his wrists pinned down and kisses with too much teeth and, holy hell, called Tater in Providence when he got hurt.

“Bother me anytime,” Tater says before he can bite down on it. He scoots a little closer, clasping his hands briefly between his knees. “Poor Parson. Need friend when teammates being sad.”

Kent’s laugh turns into a cough and Kit scrambles off his chest, affronted.

“Is that what you are?” he asks. “My friend?”

“Maybe,” Tater hums, pretending to consider. “Well. Maybe not yet.”

“Not yet,” Kent echoes. He sounds puzzled. “Okay?”

“We not really know each other,” Tater says. Maybe it’s mean, the way this is lighting him on fire. Kent likes to bottom, but never to lose control; even in bed he runs his mouth like everything that comes out of it is gospel truth. Opportunities to catch him on the back foot are few and far between, and—well. Tater likes to take care of his people, likes to show them love, and above all likes a challenge.

“We don’t—”

Tater decides to take pity on him. “Sex not knowing, Parson. Think maybe you think that way.”

Okay, yeah, this is definitely mean. Kent’s breath is coming faster, and the line of his jaw is set and trembling. But Tater wants to push him a little bit, get his money’s worth for the flight, the worry; Kent can pay him back in kind, and will. Tater just has to help him get there.

“So what if I do?” Kent asks. His laugh is tiny. “Man, I’m confused. Not like we’ve had much more time to figure each other out.”

And yet you asked me here, Tater thinks, and decides to play his trump card.

“It’s summer. You not play, I’m not play.” Tater spreads his hands wide, goes for broke and scoots in close to curl a hand slow and sinuous around Kent’s good ankle. “Need rest, someone to take care. Seem like good time to me.”

Kent’s breath catches in his throat. He smells sweaty and kinda gross, but his smile is soft, a fragile thing, and Tater knows he’s gotten it right.

“Captive audience,” Kent says, barely a whisper.

“Yes,” Tater agrees, and leans in to meet his mouth.

#kent parson #alexei mashkov #patater #omgcp #omgcheckplease #my writing #efickegster 2024

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thepetesimp · 10 days

Text

kpanniversary2024, prompt 4: Tension

"It's not your choice, Macau." The noise Macau makes with his mouth rings like a gunshot in Vegas' ears. His eyes widen as he stares at his brother's flustered face. His nostrils flare. Macau is wearing his anger like an armor made of rusty metal on his skin. He thinks it protects him, keeps him safe, when all it does is reveal all his weak spots to the enemy. Presumed enemy, in this case. Pete is not - could not - be an enemy of his in the first place. Not even when he was the main family's guard dog. He was a fool. In a way, he still is. Vegas is afraid to look at him. He does it, regardless. Saliva is trickling down Pete's forehead, down the path formed by the creases of his furrowed eyebrows, down the curve of his nose, almost but not quite missing his pursed lips. He is standing by the kitchen table completely still, statue-like. His eyes are closed. His body is tense. He looks like he's about to start crying, or screaming, or both. He does neither. He just opens his eyes, slowly, and stares at Macau with an unreadable expression; another kind of armor, equally rusty and ineffective. He doesn't wipe the spit off his face. "Who do you think you are to say that to me?" Macau yells, unperturbed by what he did. Vegas's breath hitches. He has to intervene, somehow. Say something to stop this madness from continuing, salvage any of the last, remaining pieces of his broken family. He has to- "You're not my brother, so stop acting like it!" "Macau!" He's too late. Pete's face crumbles. He lowers his head to hide it, but Vegas can still see it, can still see Pete's bottom lip quivering, his shoulders shaking. He wants to hit himself. It wouldn't solve anything, fuck, it'd make everything worse, but he can't help seeking the familiar sting a slap would provide. A punch, even more so. He gets pulled out of his thoughts by Pete whispering something he doesn't catch. It's an easy guess to make. For a moment, Vegas thinks the bullets that had pierced his torso all those months ago had hurt less. Macau says nothing and runs away to his room.

#ugh... hello #so I know the fandom loves thinking of the minor family boys as them being good to each other #especially Macau to his bros whom he loves very very VERY much #and that's all beautiful and I love that too #but what if... they weren't?#what if there were some... complications? due to their situation post canon?#I thought of exploring that a little bit so here's a little snippet for it #it'll turn into an actual fic one day because I'm obsessed with this idea #hopefully this year lmao #also this snippet is so first draft-y that I want to cry but I couldn't resist #so take it #kpanniversary2024 #kinnporche the series #vegaspete #vegaspetemacau #pete saengtham #vegas theerapanyakul #macau theerapanyakul

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lilitblaukatz · 10 months

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(tl;dr): same finger, same stare, catastrophically different results.

Aaand...

Look at that patented Theerapanyakul madness in Kim's eyes.

He successfully scared former inspector Manop. Well, a threat to your daughter's life (the one whose wellbeing you sacrificed normal life for) can do it to a man, sure. Even if you are a seasoned police chief.

Kim successfully scared some thugs. Well, a fist to your side and a bottle to your head can do it to a man, sure. Even if you are a seasoned punch thrower yourself.

Kim successfully scared this random guy. Random guy was either drunk enough or sure of himself enough that a kick from a stranger didn't impress him. He probably counted on his friends too (I don't think he registered clearly enough that they are drunk beyond help themselves).

But this stare along with the finger stopped him dead. That one he registered all right.

Kim delivers his point across with theatrical (hello Kinn, hello Khun, hello Vegas, hello Korn) lengths. He's not in a hurry. (As for us chickens viewers one eye is enough to get that point)

Now we have Porchay Sunshine Kittisawat who may know some soft side of Kim but can't be sure if it's real. What he is absolutely sure of is that Kim is the Kimhant Theerapanyakul with all the regal complimentary stuff like ruthlessness, deceit, power. Chay is yet to know that as a Theerapanyakul Kim is able to increase mortality rate in not so close range without breaking a sweat, but he knows enough.

Then Kim quite rudely dragges Chay to a side, and what we see, how Chay emerges from this humiliating manhandling?

Porchay Sunshine Kittisawat is in rage. The sun is about to go supernova. Porsche didn't raise a sucker.

Chay is too polite and still likes Kim to outright cuss him, but it is highlighted in every fiber of his being anyway: "Piss off, man!"

Kim must try again of course, because he is the son of his father and I don't mean Korn's protection (is that a thing, really?) I mean Korn's legacy.

So Kim scolds Chay. Chay doesn't budge and the finger comes out to play again. Unsuccessfully. Did it even happen to Kim before?

Epic fail.

There's more!

Make his own decisions, seriously? Kim, bb, you are here because Chay just did make his damn decision! Maybe the first one of such importance in his life.

Miscommunication happened, no shit.

But the fact is Chay wasn't... or maybe he was - scared, a little. More in shock probably. But he absolutely wasn't - stopped. He wasn't stopped by Kim, no matter the hard try. He wasn't intimidated.

He's a match, right? <3

Also don't forget truly wonderful KinnPorsche the series blocking.

Don't tell me those aren't horns, lol

Also Kim backed himself into a corner. Dark tight corner of the Hades with sulfur in the air and wails of sinners as elevator music (Hi, Khun Theerapanyakul! Going dooown?).

Kim ended being the one intimidated, finger or no finger.

Raw force of Chay's emotions scared him shitless. And that's when he was in absolute hurry to fuck off with his thinned dignity smouldering at the edges. If he were to come across Lethe along the way I bet he'd gladly dank himself in its cool waters to forget that.

#kinn points his regal finger to the sky #kim points it in your face #khun knows it's rude and doesn't point #korn points with a gun between the eyes #vegas beckons #love them #unnesessary greek mythology allegories #unnesessary aerosmith reference #porchay pichaya kittisawat #kinnporsche #kimchay #kim x porchay #kim khimhant theerapanyakul #mockingly bright Are You Ready Yeah! When they are totally not ready

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pepsi-pinacola · 5 months

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The ring

When a small, white, velvet box falls out of Pete' belongings, Vegas is confused and doesn't know what it is at first. He bends down to pick up the thing, irritated, and when he picks it up and sees it more closely, his heart stops.

Velvet box. With a ring. Vegas' heart stopped. He recognized the Cartier logo. Engagement ring. There was no other option. Does Pete want to propose to him? His hands were shaking so much that he could barely hold the small box. Panic twists his lips into a small smile.

Before he thinks about it, he opens the box, and at the same moment he feels enormous remorse. He quickly looks at the bathroom door where Pete is taking a shower. He offered to help him with his suitcases in the meantime. They arrived at the Minor residence about two hours ago and moved in.

Vegas never expected to find something like this in Pete's stuff. He loved him and he knew Pete loved him, but would Pete want to marry him?

He bites his trembling lips and looks back at the ring. It's simple but nice. Classic. Smooth wedding ring with carved decorations. Gold. Vegas frowns. Does Pete like gold? Vegas probably not… prefers silver to be honest or gold, but white; or any other. Just not yellow. So why gold? He takes out the ring and looks at it. He sees the engraving inside the ring. Date. A few years back. Almost 8 years.

Then he bites his lips almost to the point of bleeding. Someone proposed to Pete eight years ago. But Pete… he's here. There was no wedding. He breathes a sigh of relief. Pete is here with him. The sudden silence brings him out of his thoughts. He panics and quickly puts the ring away. He hides it among his clothes. He decides not to ask. He'll pretend he didn't see it. Maybe Pete will tell him himself. He frowns and hesitates.

NO. Pete is entitled to his secrets. After all, they both have a quality past behind them. Pete never mentions Tawan so Vegas can do the same and let Pete have his past that he maybe doesn't want to go back to.

They lie in bed and, despite his best intentions, Vegas can't stop thinking about what he found. He's thinking about proposing. Pete lies next to him and gently runs his hands down his side. The bullet wounds hurt a bit, so he tries not to move.

"Something happened? You're strangely silent…” Pete's soft voice pulls him from his thoughts.

Vegas looks at his lover's face, the warm light of the bedside lamp casting shadows on his face. Pete is his. She's here with him. With no one else. “Marry me Pete.” He speaks quietly. He looks into the former bodyguard's eyes and trembles all over.

Pete's mouth opens in shock, but then he smiles. He kisses Vegas on the lips and laughs softly. Vegas's hands wrap around Pete and he pulls him closer to him.

" Yes. Even though you didn't ask a question, I still agree."

#kinnporsche #kinnporche the series #vegas theerapanyakul #pete phongsakorn #vegas kornwit theerapanyakun #pete saengtham #vegaspete #vegas x pete #vegaspete fic #vegas x pete fanfiction #vegas kinnporsche #vegaspete fanfic

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bohnsky · 5 months

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Vegas 23

Vegas was silly, way too much unnecessary show and all it really did was making me want to rewatch the Ocean's movies.

But here are my thoughts on Vegas and my favorite drivers 6,5 months into liking f1:

1. Alex Albon

I've got to say, quali made me fucking happy and the first few laps, when both Williams could hold their positions. I'm sure no one really expected them to stay up there, but I feel like they would've deserved at least some points.

Also, when he fell during the Netflix Cup.

2. Sergio Perez

VAMOS!!!! I'm so happy for Checo!!!

I was so scared, after that turn one ichident, but luckily everything turned out okay. Even though I feel like Red Bull don't celebrate that championship 1-2 enough. It seems like they tend to forget that Checo brought Max his first Championship AND Red Bulls first 1-2.

Also, I was so stressed in that last lap. Why did it have to be so fucking close again? My heart can't handle that. Plus, I'm getting really mad at the German commentators again. They just keep bullshitting on Checo to the point that I actually think about watching with the English commentary. And then when he does good in the race, they just act so surprised as if he hadn't done this before, qualifying badly but then totally killing it in the race.

3. Charles Leclerc/Lewis Hamilton

My little Ferrari heart was happy for the majority of the weekend, but it also broke a little. Being a Ferrari fan comes with tons of mixed feelings.

Also, I was a little mad at Charles for overtaking Checo on the last lap, but I can't really be mad at him. He deserves that 2nd place and I'm happy for him, even if he himself is not happy with 2nd.

I feel a little bad, because I haven't been rooting for Lewis at all, but I just needed Checo to get that 2nd place in the championship. Now that that's out of the way, I can root for Lewis again :)

Also them having a few moments together this weekend made me happy.

4. Lance Stroll

I'm so happy!!!

Here the commentators were shocked as well, because Lance is like Checo a victim of their constant bullshitting. He's showing the world that he does deserve his seat and I couldn't be happier for him!

5. Lando Norris

I'm sad. It was a horrendous weekend for him. Even without the crash. I just hope he really is fine and doesn't just say that to not worry us.

Also can we talk about how wag coded Max Fewtrell is? I love it.

Honorable mentions:

Logan. I was so happy for him in Quali! I just wish the race would have ended a little better for him. And then I watched a clip of him and remembered how fucking American he is. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against Americans. I love Americans, but they can be real silly. And Logan is often very silly.

Carlos. I refused to wake up at 5am to watch fp1, waking up to "red flag because of SAI", "FP1 will not be resumed" and "FP2 will be delayed for 2 hours, because the track needs to be fixed". Let me tell you, I was imagining the worst. I thought Carlos had sent it into the wall or something. It took me a while to understand what had actually happened. And how dare them give Carlos a fucking 10 place grid penalty for THEIR mistake? I'm furious! Well at least he got P6.

Max. I have finally decided that I love Max. I am no longer torn when it comes to him. My favorite thing about this weekend (after Checo securing 2nd in the championship) might be that Max tried to help Checo on that last lap. I really didn't expect him to, but that was sweet, just a little too late. But that's not his fault.

Liam. I miss him. He seems like a fun guy and I really liked him and Yuki together.

That's it, thanks for reading.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #vegas gp 2023 #alex albon #sergio perez #charles lecrelc #lewis hamilton #lance stroll #lando norris #logan seargent #carlos sainz junior #max verstappen #liam lawson

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snickerdoodlles · 13 days

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Consider: Vegas in his Youtuber era calling himself Pete's trophy husband. Thoughts?

i don't see it? in my youtuber Vegas fic, Vegas is jokingly known as "cooking husband" by his viewers, but he never calls himself that or any other title (ie, people call Vegas "cooking husband!!" in the same way i tag b dylan hollis videos with "baking twink"). however, in canon, Vegas chafes a lot when he's boxed into specific roles, even the ones he puts himself in, because Vegas seeks unconditional love and acceptance but doesn't believe there's anyone who would. he plays or fills specific roles seeking that acceptance/care/love, but just as quickly rejects any acceptance/care/love he does receive because he thinks it's either a lie or only because of the role he's playing, and very often he pushes everyone away because he's terrified of when (not if) the people close to him will leave.

so i don't see Vegas referring to himself by any sort of role. or if he did/does, he's inevitably going to spiral about it really badly, even a "good" role like "trophy husband" in this case. actually, the premise of 'pot stirring' is Vegas getting caught up in being known as "the nice cooking husband" and chasing the high of internet affection, then self-sabotaging bad the second someone critiques him for deviating from that specific role. Vegas doesn't understand that his loved ones love him unconditionally, so anything that puts (or seems to put) a condition on that care opens up another opportunity for him to be rejected when Vegas "fails" his role (and Vegas can see rejection even when it's not there).

(this is actually also why i think Vegas tells Pete that Macau doesn't love him at the safehouse, but next we see of Macau is him watching for Vegas at his hospital bedside-- I think Vegas is slightly caught up in his "role" as Macau's brother. now, Vegas just is an excellent, caring older brother, it's not in any way a "role" or something he's playing, but i don't think Vegas fully realizes that. he's very protective of Macau and the first person Macau turns to when he's in trouble, but at the safehouse, Vegas is cut off from Macau. he can't help or protect him. he can't be "Macau's older brother" while he's trapped there, so clearly Macau doesn't have any reason to care about him anymore. obviously, Macau loves Vegas regardless, we all know that, but Vegas struggles to accept that people care for him at all, much less when he can't provide anything for them.)

#kinnporsche #fic: gone fishing #'pot stirring' is taking me so long because there's a whole character journey in there i didnt have to give kim chay or kinn ajfjhf #social media is so BAD for vegas until it isnt

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dxsole · 3 months

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FIVE THINGS! | Lázaro Vega

TAGGED BY: Stolen from @wornclean bc I too love association games! TAGGING: @devilmass, @bruisedconscience, @kiingsnake, @misshclly, @dogtccth, and anyone else who'd like to do this~!

EMOTIONS. 001 . Calm. Nothing ruffles his feathers outside of near-death experience, and you don't come across those often as a florist 002 . Elated. While he's not easily angered or annoyed, he's easily enthralled, easily excited. A particularly yappy dog in the street can make his entire week 003 . Contemplative. When you're surrounded by silence and enough greenery to trick yourself into thinking you're alone in nature, your mind wanders 004 . Personable. He could befriend the boogeyman 005 . Confusion. He's sometimes lost, sometimes a little behind other people, but that's okay because that just means he's about to learn something new

COLORS. 001 . Moss Green. An obvious choice, but still his favorite 002 . Mustard. Not sure why but he's always like that shade. It's like a more sophisticated yellow and it's great on a hot dog 003 . Black. Like his jeans, like his motorcycle, like his hair— it just goes with everything 004 . Purple. It's his wife's favorite color, so he always brings her bouquets of flowers in every purple shade he has. It grew on him and he can't look at it the same way now

SCENTS. 001 . Soil. That earthy scent of damp dirt after rainfall. It's under his fingernails, it's stuck to his jeans, it's under his shoes 002 . Lilac, Peonies, Jasmine, Roses. Every day its a slightly different bouquet depending on what he gathered for customers that day, but it's always sweet 003 . Old Spice. He thinks the commercials are funny 004 . Pot. It lingers on his clothes after a smoke, musky and earthy and good 005 . Honey. A local jar is in his shop's backroom to put on toast and in tea and leaves his fingers sticky

WARDROBE. 001 . The same floral shirt nightmares your beach house uncle wears 002 . Black jeans, black slacks, everything that hits his legs is black 003 . Ribbed wifebeaters to lounge in on hot days 004 . Thin gold chain swinging from his neck 005 . Italian loafers. It's the one part of his wardrobe he splurges on. He likes nice shoes

OBJECTS. 001 . Carving knife. Good for pruning the plants and carving the little wooden animal sculptures that litter his shop 002 . Family photos in his wallet. His grandparents sitting on a porch on a hot summer's day. His sister's at one of their graduations, all smiles. His kids lined up in front of the house, slightly blurred due to their toddler energy. A close-up of his wife mid-snort from some joke he told on their fifth date, it's not flattering but its her. 003 . Walkman. Yes, he still has one and yes he uses it. He is listening to Marky Mark on CD as we speak 004 . Jerky. He's got those sticks stashed everywhere. Man's gotta have his meat 005 . Sunglasses. Can't go anywhere without a pair. He's a cool guy

VICES. 001 . Doubt. It creeps in some days, the idea of not doing enough, not having succeeded enough, especially when his sisters were further ahead of him in every way 002 . Weed. Maybe he's got his head in the clouds a little too much, but it's a nice place to be 003 . Passive. Doormat at times without even realizing it. He's too chill

ACTIONS. 001 . Squints at everything. He has naturally sleepy eyes and it doesn't help that he just narrows them further at every inquiry 002 . Hip pops, leaning, just in general not standing or sitting straight or splaying himself over a seat because he's here to be comfortable 003 . Fancy footwork. Always has a slight spring in his step or a dance at the ready. Shoulders shimmy, hips sway, twirls on a heel 004 . Stares. Never means to be rude and certainly doesn't have anything deep going on behind his eyes. Probably thinking about lunch

SONGS. 001 . GOLD - BROCKHAMPTON 002 . Finesse - Bruno Mars Feat. Cardi B 003 . The Highs & The Lows - Chance the Rapper Feat. Joey Bada$$ 004 . sophisticated - bbno$ 005 . Good Vibrations - Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch

#thoughts #wornclean #laz is literally the coolest guy ever #also hit me up if u want his full spotify playlist bc it SLAPS

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