#dulce flirt

[altrxisme]

❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ (For Johanne~)

&. 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. // accepting!!

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Johanne tilted her head as she crossed a leg over her knee. Rarely do they get to dress up when they as a group get to head out for the night. She'd given Crowe full access to her closet when they were getting ready, since she was given free clothes from some acquaintances she helped out from before. She'd hate for quality pieces to go to waste, such was her outfit for the night.

Gone was the usual beat up t-shirt and ratty jeans she donned when they went out for bar night, instead Johanne had an off shoulder crop top, a high-slit maxi skirt, and heels. When she crossed her leg earlier, the high slit of her skirt gave Nyx a full length display of her thigh down to the heels she wore.

"Go on. Tell me what I'm doing to you, Nyx."

[landitolover]

𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 part two | previous part ౨ৎ oscar x reader

WELCOME BACK TO DULCE HOTLINE!

enter your password: ***********

message list !

y/n l/n

lando norris

message y/n l/n?

yes > no

you have sent a message!

oscar

heyo

y/n l/n

hi oscar

sooo

ur famous.

oscar

uh yeah

is it gonna be a problem?

y/n l/n

not at all

😆

oscar

you don’t see me

any differently now?

y/n l/n

uhm

no?

i mean, you’re not taylor swift famous….

oscar

glad about that

must be a bit tiring being that famous

y/n l/n

i’d assume 🤔

if u don’t mind me asking

where do u live

oscar

the uk, for the most part

i travel lots though cause of my job

you?

y/n l/n

i’m living in france for a bit

with my two friends 😁

oscar

that’s nice

i like it over there

y/n l/n

yeah it’s quite alright

oscar

how long have you been

living in france?

y/n l/n

not too long

originally i just came here for a wedding

then my friend bought an apartment while she was drunk

oscar

how does one buy a whole ass apartment

while being drunk 😭

y/n l/n

honestly

i have zero clue

kinda funny tho

tell me more about yourself 🥸

oscar

well it’s my first season in formula one

i’m kinda awkward in person

i started karting when i was 10

i prefer dogs over cats

i like tim tams

sorry i don’t know what else to say……

y/n l/n

rookie season, wowie

i’m also awkward in person dw!!

karting at ten? woww i was eating chips on

my bed and watching austin & ally…

dogs over cats……… immediate no 🌝

tim tams are yummy

oscar

it’s your turn to tell me yourself

y/n l/n

okay okay uhm

I’m in uni atm

i have two cats named cinnamon and sugar

oscar

two cats?

y/n l/n

yes yes

oscar

oh! so uhm

how are u on this fine evening

y/n l/n

🌝🌝

very very good

you?

oscar

that’s good

i’m better now that I’m talking to you

y/n l/n

🫣

you’re a flirt, piastri

oscar

🤔🤔

maybe i am

but you like it, don’t you?

y/n l/n

i do

😵‍💫

oscar

i have to go now, sorry

bye :)

y/n l/n

bye oscar!

y/n ⛄️

guys

he wants me so bad ong

xienma 🛐

dulce hotline guy?

y/n ⛄️

yes yes

okay so

i know a bit more about him now

xienma 🛐

do tell

madeline 🤺

yes, tell us abt ur man!!

y/n ⛄️

okay so he’s an f1 driver for mclaren

so basically just cars??? it’s his rookie season

he started karting when he was 10

he loves tim tams

he prefers dogs over cats 🌝

madeline 🤺

that’s kinda boring

xienma 🛐

leave her man alone 🤓

but dogs over cats??

what ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN?????

madeline ⛄️

nah fr

he could POSSIBLY be the father of

cinnamon and sugar 🤔🤔🤔 if he likes

dogs more!!!

y/n ⛄️

dw guys

i can change him 🙏🏼

LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS MAN

madeline 🤺

we’ve lost her to a man

xienma 🛐

aww he’s a cutie

i’m a ynoscar truther!!

madeline 🤺

i guess i’ll support u guys

just don’t let this be like ur old situationship

xienma 🛐

i second that

y/n ⛄️

i won’t guys, trust!!

he seems like a sweetheart

xienma 🛐

well, i hope everything will

work out for you guys 😁

just want u to be happy!

oscah 🦅

lando

norris

landoh 🤓

yes ?

oscah 🦅

i am so heavily attracted to her

landoh 🤓

dulce hotline girl???

oscah 🦅

obviously

look how beautiful she is

landoh 🤓

did you insta stalk her mate

….🌝

oscah 🦅

uhm

🤣🤣!!

maybe i did

she has two cats

cinnamon and sugar

landoh 🤓

wow mate

are you going to be a father to cats 😱

oscah 🦅

uhm no

i dunno

🤔🤔

landoh 🤓

how does she feel about like

you being famous

does she care?

oscah 🦅

no I don’t think so

she said i wasn’t “taylor swift level famous”

landoh 🤓

thank fuck you aren’t though

that’s good that she doesn’t really mind

about you being famous 🤔🤔

oscah 🦅

i agree

oh my god

oh my hod

landoh 🤓

what ????

oscah 🦅

she messaged me

oh mgmgod

-&;@2&;@?&2&/_*{+~£|¥_£|¥_

bye

bye

TALK TO U LATER

landoh 🤓

I’m actually SICK

seeing u obsess over a girl

this isn’t you babe 🥺🥺🥺

what happened to landoscar

😭😭💔💔

Read 15:00

WELCOME BACK TO DULCE HOTLINE !

YOU HAVE ONE MESSAGE

y/n l/n has sent you a message

y/n l/n

hi oscar 🤓🤓

oscar

y/n l/n

oscar

hi y/n :)

also, you’re sending me all these memes of myself

so does that mean i’m in your camera roll?

y/n l/n

woah

oh

yeah you kinda are.. taking over my camera roll

didn’t even realize

oscar

wow are you already obsessed with me?

y/n l/n

uhm

i don’t think so, piastri

maybe YOU’RE the one obsessed with me!!

oscar

are you trying to use reverse psychology?

clever girl

y/n l/n

clever girl?? i’m blushing

oscar

wasn’t my intention but i’m glad

bet u look cute

y/n l/n

you’re insane for saying that

lord.

oscar

sorry sorry

y/n l/n

yeah no it’s fine

just !

😵‍💫🤔

oscar

quick topic change..

you know why i prefer dogs over cats?

y/n l/n

hm no

why?

oscar

cause i’m scared of cats

y/n l/n

how could you be scared of this baby

oscar

okay well i’m not scared of your cat in specific

just other cats…

y/n l/n

oh so ur biased 🙄

oscar

yes

well

no?

maybe

y/n l/n

you’re never meeting my cats.

oscar

wait no

trust i’ll change for them

y/n l/n

you know what’s funny

you kinda look like a cat yourself

oscar

oh my god

wait

why do i kinda look like one

y/n l/n

oscar pastry is a cat confirmed

piastri***

oscar

🥐

i’m oscar pastry fr

y/n l/n

wowie 🤓

okay i’m gonna go eat now

#dinner time

oscar

alright, bye

have a nice meal

y/n l/n

byee!

y/n ⛄️

HIIIIIII GUYSSSS

xienma 🛐

someone’s happy

what’d he do now

y/n ⛄️

he’s just so

sooooo 😍😍

madeline 🤺

we lost her

she’s down deep

xienma 🛐

i think they’re cute idk

pretty good looking couple imo

y/n ⛄️

i think so too, i might be a little biased though…..

do u guys think that men obsess over

girls the way we obsess over them

like this better be him 🤣🤣🤣

xienma 🛐

GIRL 😭😭

madeleine 🤺

no cause real shit

i wonder if they get giggly n shit

y/n ⛄️

FORREAL U GET ME!!

madeleine 🤺

like do they just go :3 when we message them

xienma 🛐

totally

y/n ⛄️

he totally goes like that when i msg him

he’s so cat coded idk what to tell u guys

madeline 🤺

no wonder y u want him so bad

y/n ⛄️

🌝🌝

xienma 🛐

i’m ynoscar truther forever

madeline 🤺

they barely kno each other 😒😒

THEY MET ON A DATING APP

xienma 🛐

okay girl just cause your little situationship

didn’t work out, doesn’t mean u have to be a hater..!

madeline 🤺

don’t bring that shit up again……

yall fake

y/n ⛄️

woah man

I didn’t say anything

i’m eating dinner!!

and mad, what if he has a cute lil friend 🤫

i’ll set u up 🔥🔥

madeline 🤺

our wag era 😈

y/n ⛄️

ok bye i’m leaving

😴 nap time

xienma 🛐

dream abt oscar xx

Read 16:20

౨ৎ sorry i didn’t post anything about dulce hotline yesterday, i just couldn’t think of anything to write 😭 i might possibly do a double update, so keep a lookout for that!

taglist, @d6za1 @amoosarte @ch3rryknots @moneygramhaas @alessioayla @cherry-piee @chasing-liberosis if you wanna be added, please comment ౨ৎ

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache.  Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright.  After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful.  Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better.  When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea.  You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend. 

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night.  Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank.  Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window.  After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual. 

“I’ve been well, thank you.  Hope things have been going well here?  Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today.  Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you?  Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you.  “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken.  Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay.  Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s.  There is nothing improper afoot.  The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin.  Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir.  He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish.  Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess!  Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called.  And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no!  I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace.  Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her.  Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being. 

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess.  Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two.  He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth.  Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry.  Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt.  It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?”  The answer obvious. 

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes.  He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you.  When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene.  He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down.  And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him. 

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head.  He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile.  He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years.  He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms.  He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless.  He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time.  He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest.  How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor.  In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away.  You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real.  Pero.  Oh.  You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest.  Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked.  How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago?  Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak.  The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears.  The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month.  This is how I know something ails your heart terribly.  Please.  Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature.  There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe.  Except for Pero, you suddenly realize. 

You tell your father everything.  You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are.  How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything.  He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of.  That he makes you laugh all the time.  And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him.  You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you.  But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband.  He encourages me to do so.  I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned.  Pero purchased your father’s shares?  But why?  There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest.  It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake.  He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real? 

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered.  He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place.  You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt.  I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest.  The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.”  Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself.  After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight.  When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce.  I was worried about you.  I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me.  I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero.  And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut.  Please allow me to do so right now.  Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly.  I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring.  You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are.  There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart.  He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me.  I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it.  I find you so very thoughtful this way.  And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.”  Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father.  Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift.  The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together.  But that in and of itself is not the gift.  The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children.  I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares.  I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say.  Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring?  Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life.  I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend!  You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce.  Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce.  Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh.  As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better.  I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things.  I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers.  Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth.  I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina.  Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand.  What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that?  What if I want you to look at me like that?  What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying.  You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language.  Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count.  You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined.  “Well.  It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you!  You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband.  What I care for is freedom and adventure!  And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife.  As for my friends, I can always visit!  And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly.  Honestly!  This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now!  But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish.  That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.” 

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you.  Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are?  None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months.  Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed.  Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you.  On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground.  You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire.  Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him.  He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands.  Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment.  Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand.  Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely.  A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor?  You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him.  You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame.  Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect.  So perfect.  Can’t believe it.  How.  How did I get so.  Damn.  Lucky.  Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both.  The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay?  We have brought up dinner.  Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down.  Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms.  Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips.  With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you.  You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them.  Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure.  It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you.  Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness.  It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table.  When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart.  In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word.  Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently.  Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door.  After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce.  Come find me afterwards.  I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace.  As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right.  And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear.  Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve.  I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life?  You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day.  You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own.  Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?” 

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him.  Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to.  When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple.  Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton.  He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife.  His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been.  For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero.  Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor.  He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass.  If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is.  A passionate man, that is.  Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times.  Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months.  As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy.  He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers.  The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling.  Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between.  As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth. 

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster.  When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with.  The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth.  The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you.  With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony.  Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness.  By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want. 

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit.  You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient.  And thorough.  He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek.  He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through.  Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core.  He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state.  Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire. 

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her.  Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body.  The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another. 

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first.  Oh.  You’re so full.  It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you.  Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes.  Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus.  While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove. 

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold.  Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things.  Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar.  With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire.  Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown. 

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another.  Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce.  Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge.   Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress.  You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow.  Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements.  Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh.  Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire.  When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer.  This feels different.  So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild.  Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt.  The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground.  Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy.  And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way.  Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own.  Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony.  All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm.  Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar.  That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence.  Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another. 

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you.  Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero.  He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze.  You might lick your lips at the sight.  Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from?  You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all. 

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone.  Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay?  I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt.  Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start.  Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me.  I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled.  But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you.  Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not.  Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank.  In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud.  Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor.  When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home.  And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you?  You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh.  You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…” 

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass.  Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses.  Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting.  Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily.  Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit.  The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts.  He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh.  He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night.  While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big.  When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh. 

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours.  Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high.  As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you.  Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses.  As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England.  The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding.  What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials.  Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them.  When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day.  And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you.  The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy.  The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married.  Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast. 

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth.  You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough.  Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair.  Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.”  He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.”  Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce.  How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already?  Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip.  You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely.  The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another.  The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

 “Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way.  Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs.  Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately.  Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship.  It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth.  Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body. 

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you.  Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in.  When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man.  How did you get so lucky?  Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now.  “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you.  Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce.  Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease.  Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff.  Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one. 

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy.  Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor.  I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving?  We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be.  He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

[wannab-urs]

Bittersweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You're perfect to him, but he's not good enough for you and never could be.

Warnings: kind of derogatory mention of “whores,” SMUT, javier peña’s oral fixation, I’m imagining season 3 Javi but it’s up to you, reader is 20ish, wears a skirt, is referred to as sweet, and is able bodied. Soft and then mean!javi. WC: 1.1k

A/N: Thanks to Andrew for leaking this song and to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for correcting my fuckass spanish <3

Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

I'd rather take my whiskey neat My coffee black in my bed at three You're too sweet for me

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have encouraged your flirting. He shouldn’t have met you at the bar for drinks. And he definitely shouldn’t have taken you home with him. It’s way too late to turn back now though. 

Your hips sway in the tiny skirt you’re wearing as you climb the stairs to his apartment. He greedily drinks in the sight of your exposed thighs, sauntering up the stairs behind you. He grabs your waist and pulls you tightly against him as he unlocks the door, pressing his lips to your throat. 

You squeal out the sweetest giggle as his mustache tickles your skin. He gets the door open and guides you inside, leading you by the hips to his bedroom. You’re much too precious to fuck on the couch like some whore. 

He lays you back on the bed gently as he kisses you, his tongue delving into your mouth to get more of your taste. He’s addicted to you already. You moan into his mouth softly, tangling your tongue up with his. He licks the back of your teeth, bites into your plump bottom lip. 

His hands push your skirt up and he presses his clothed erection into your core. You whine and rut against him and he groans against your lips. He kisses down your throat, dips his nose into your cleavage, pushes your shirt up until you sit up and help him tear it off you. 

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolls it between his lips and nibbles gently. You arch your back, your hands finding the back of his head and holding him to you. Your fingers thread in his hair as he kisses down your stomach and settles between your thighs. 

He pulls your skirt and panties down your thighs at the same time and discards them on the floor. He spreads your folds with two fingers and groans. 

“¿Así que mojado para mí ya?” (So wet for me already?)

“Sí, Javi,” you reply breathlessly. He adores the way you answer him, the way your voice is airy with desire. 

Javier licks a stripe from the cleft of your ass to your clit, savoring the flavor of your skin and slick.

“Sabes tan dulce, cariño.” (Taste so sweet, baby). 

He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue over and over, loving the way you squirm against him, the way your hands tighten into fists in his hair. He dips his tongue inside you, his nose settling against your clit. He grabs your hips and encourages you to grind on his face. 

“Usarla. Sé buena para mi,” he mutters into your cunt. (Use it, be good for me). You take direction so well. He feels you shaking as he plunges his tongue inside you. He sucks your clit into his mouth again and plunges two fingers into you down to the knuckle. You come with a cry of his name, spilling sweetly from your lips. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

He lets you ride his fingers through your high before he slowly extracts his fingers from you. He sucks them into his mouth, not wanting to miss a drop of your taste. He strips off his shirt and stands to discard his pants as you catch your breath. 

You reach your hands out toward him as he settles back on the bed between your thighs. He thinks he feels his heart crack a little. He kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance. You wiggle beneath him, trying to push him inside you. 

“Paciencia, cariño,” (patience, baby) he mutters, but he starts pushing inside you. He’s finding it hard to deny you anything you ask for. You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, your noises tangling together in the scant air between your lips. He drops his forehead to yours as he slowly retreats and pushes back in. 

You meet his thrust with your own hips, driving him deeper. He drops to his elbows and picks up the pace, rolling his hips into you steadily. He wants to savor this, wants it to last as long as it can, because he knows he’ll never have it again – never have you again. 

He can’t hold back, though. The way you grip him, tight and hot and wet, the way your hands roam across his broad chest and through his too long hair, it drives him crazy. He dips his mouth to your throat, tasting your skin again as he pounds into you. You let out little huffs of air, choked out moans, bitten off cries of his name as he fucks you. 

When you come it catches him off guard and he nearly follows you. He fucks you slow and deep through it and when you finally stop clenching around him he pulls out and comes on your belly. You whine when he stands, wanting him to cuddle with you. 

“Ya vuelvo.” (I’ll be right back). 

He goes to his bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water. He should kick you out. Instead, he brings it back and gently cleans between your legs and wipes his cum off your stomach. He tosses the cloth into the pile of his clothes and snuggles into bed with you. You curl into his chest and he wraps his arms around you, falling asleep with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

He wakes up in the morning to an empty bed and nearly thinks you were smart enough to leave on your own, but he spots your skirt still on the floor by the bed. Fuck. You dance into the room, a cup of coffee in your hand and his shirt on your shoulders. You look beautiful. Perfect. Like everything he doesn’t deserve. 

You hand him the mug and he sets it on the nightstand.

“Deberías ir.” (You should get going). 

He lights a cigarette to avoid looking at your face. He knows it’s crestfallen, knows he’s hurting you. But he’s saving you even more pain in the long run.

“Okay,” you say. And he refuses to look, but he can hear the tears in your voice.

When he hears the apartment door close, he rolls over and pretends to go back to sleep. He lays there for hours, thinking about how perfect you are. You’re way too young, maybe twenty years old. And so… soft, gentle. His rough edges would cut you to shreds. He never should have slept with you, but he’s only a man. He’s a weak, broken, pathetic old man and for one night you made him feel worthy. 

When he finally drinks the coffee on the nightstand, it has long gone cold and the alarm clock reads 3:00pm.

[cheriladycl01]

How I love you - Multi Driver x Reader Part 2

Plot: The Heartstopper Charlie Monologue but for each driver!

Pierre Gasly

"I've been going out with Pierre Gasly since i was 15. He likes travelling and French Football. Dogs, especially the fluffy kind. Trying new foods across the world. His first win in Monza. Coffee. Taking picnics in Nice. Getting back into our bed after a long triple header. And Panoramas"

"He also likes me...”

"His hair is a sandy blonde, that could almost be a brown and his eyes are light blue and he's 7 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Esteban Ocon

"I've been going out with Esteban Ocon since i was 22. He likes the movies and Italian Cuisine. Marvel, especially if it’s Deadpool. Building remote control cars. Having Ryan Reynolds as an Alpine Investor. Table Tennis. Making everything into a race, even mountain biking. Spending time with his parents . And pink"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is very dark, basically black, and his eyes are dark brown and he's 9 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Alexander Albon

"I've been going out with Alex Albon since i was 24. He likes photography and film cameras. Animals, especially our pets at home. He loves wearing loungewear. And his attachment to golf. Spicy Food. Doing his skincare with me. His podcast with Logan on race weekends. And his iPad"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is always changing colour because he dyes it, and his eyes are light brown and he's 2 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Franco Colapinto

"I've been going out with Franco Colapinto since i was 18. He likes yapping and flirting with his interviewers, to get on my nerves. Buenos Aries, especially when showing me around where he grew up. He loves drinking Mate in the mornings. And watching Lionel Messi. Chocolate. And Dulce de leche. His Spotify full of Spanish music. And The Boss"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is a chocolate brown, and his eyes are like caramel and he's 5 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Yuki Tsunoda

"I've been going out with Yuki Tsunoda since i was 20. He likes cooking and making me try new dishes. Japan, especially in Cherry Blossom Season. He loves snowboarding at Christmas. And playing video games. Sake. And going cycling. His PC at home in Italy. And Swearing"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is jet black, and his eyes are almost matching that and im 5 inches taller than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Daniel Ricciardo

"I've been going out with Daniel Ricciardo since i was 26. He likes mountain biking and bmxing. The great outdoors especially the Australian Outback. He loves taking pictures mainly of me. And horse riding on the beach. America. Joking around with Lando. His Beats Headphones. And MotoGP"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is brown, and his eyes are like pools of honey and im 6 inches shorter than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Valtteri Bottas

"I've been going out with Valtteri Bottas since i was 29. He likes caving and rock climbing. Engineering , especially around his F1 car. He loves skiing on weekends. And making BotASS calendars. Wine. And doing cycling tournaments. His morning coffee. And Gin"

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is dyed platinum blonde to the point I can’t remember what his natural colour is, and his eyes are like blue and im 2 inches shorter than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Zhou Guanyu

"I've been going out with Zhou Guanyu since i was 16. He likes karaoke and gaming. Cats , especially little Sweetcorn. He loves seeing all the hard work go into an F1 weekend. And exploring more of China. Football. And styling me in outfits. His home in Sheffield. And Fashion”

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is a dry black, and his eyes are dark brown and im 5 inches shorter than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Nico Hulkenberg

"I've been going out with Nico Hulkenberg since i was 24. He likes bakeries and an occasional sweet treat. Sport and fitness, especially cycling and Tennis. He loves travelling with his job. And exploring the many cultures of the world. Skiing. And chilling at home after a long weekend. Some soft music in the car. And Swimming”

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is a blonde, and his eyes are blue and im 7 inches shorter than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Kevin Magnussen

"I've been going out with Kevin Magnussen since i was 26. He likes spice and Indian food. Sports, especially ones of the water variety. He loves outdoors and getting involved. And making everything into a brutal competition. Suzuka. And skydiving. Some Metallica when he’s feeling energised. And cycling”

“He also likes me…”

"His hair is a blonde, and his eyes are blue and im 3 inches shorter than him, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion...”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[cosmic-spider]

Jax x mexican fem reader

He finds you accent funny( if you have one.) especially when you pronounce stores and other thing.

 He finds it funny when you don’t remember the name of something and you just say  agárra me el dese.(get me the thing) it makes him giggle a bit every time.

On the other hand, he does hate it whenever you take off your shoe and start hitting him with it. (He still doesn’t understand how a slipper or a shoe can become a lethal weapon in less than two seconds.)

He still doesn’t understand how you’re able to hit him perfectly on the head when he’s trying to run away from you before you hit him.( later on starts to ask you how to do it so you can hit other people from far away for a prank)

He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

He keeps your room key very close to him at all times in case he hears you start singing in your room by yourself so he can just come in and or peep through the door and listen to you sing.

I also find it fascinating on how many different ways you can dance just one song. Still doesn’t understand how you can move your feet so fast or so fluently especially your hips.

Almost ever fight the two of you have is just you getting pissed off of his jokes, and you cussing him out in Spanish, which were some reason Caine has not censored. Then him yelling at you saying “I don’t speak Taco Bell! “And then you just get pissed off and just start hitting him with your slippers/shoe.

He does love your cooking on the other hand not that he would actually tell you directly. Every now and then he’ll give a comment, saying it was good, or nice. Will eat through the pain of the spicy food. ( Will be drinking so much milk and water that he can find the moment he get out of you eyesight.)

Still doesn’t understand the nickname you call him by conejo morado.( purple bunny)

As a s/o

Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him. It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

Find that funny whenever something goes wrong on the dates that you make for the two of you.

Some of the stories about how you grow up and how your siblings active during parties in for piñata’s terrifying him.

Especially since he’s not a kid person. He could just imagine the horror trying to take care of kids that Literally run around and hit each other over candy that comes out of a piñata.( Wonders how you even survive that growing up)

Find the face smashing into birthday cake, tradition hilarious. Wants to try it on you until you told him the story where you literally gave your cousin a blackeye because of it.( things twice about ruining your birthdays now.)

Purposely does things to piss you off just so you can cause I’m out in Spanish he just stays there and looks at you with a smirk, face and flirts with you more to get your even more pissed off try to run away afterward, but gets hit in the head with a slipper.

Absolutely adores it  whenever you make  pan dulce (Mexican sweet breed.) Hid favorite is conchas, galletas, cono, y poquito with some coffee in the morning.

Finds the stories, you tell him about cookouts, funny and entertaining, especially on long and boring days that he has or when you tell him that someone got into a fight.

Both of you start drama and problems for the others. Then watch it on falls on the sidelines. 

Is always impressed on how fast you can run whenever someone gets abstracted. ( like he’s a rabbit and he can run pretty fast, but damn, can you out run him any day)

Hates it whenever you start the cleaning ritual every Sunday or what you believe. It’s a Sunday.(especially when you start singing and blasting music out of nowhere, or when you go into his room, even though he had all the keys and other ways to get into his room.) Its his nightmare

[zerobasekazuha]

Okay so probably a very cliche thing to write about BUT im a SUCKER for it

Venture notices fem!reader is getting hit on at a party and glares at the person doing it the entire time. Once the reader and venture get home, they immediately press her against the wall and “questions” her. Aka, they get jealous as HELL 😈

BONUS POINTS IF VENTURE CALLS THE READER “PRINCESS” i am a major softie for it 💕

Sorry for the late response so to make up for it I’ll make this extra juicy 😝

Sloan didn’t want to go to this pity party the wayfinders decided to put on. Everybody was able to bring guests and just enjoy themselves how they wanted to. Sloan decided to bring their partner Y/n. She looked absolutely stunning in their eyes and behind her they looked like a lovesick puppy.

However with that it also meant that they had to be extra protective over her. They didn’t want anybody thirsting over what was theirs. Y/n was their angel and everything they could ever ask for. Sloan was blessed to even be able to breathe the same air as her. As much as she told them she wasn’t anything special Sloan refused to believe it.

There had been somebody at the party who made Sloan uncomfortable. It was this guy who seemed to be thirsting on whats theirs. It annoyed them, but without probable cause they couldn’t do anything about it.

The night progressed and as it did the guy seemed to be making moves at Y/n. Sloan was slightly tipsy from the alcohol they ingested while conversing with their team. They looked across the room at the guy leaning against the wall talking to Y/n. They could feel their heart drop to their feet.

But they knew deep in their heart she wouldn’t do anything to them. The way the guy looked at her made Sloans blood boil. But it seemed Y/n didn’t notice. They came over snaking an arm around Y/ns waist and casually joining the conversation. But it seemed the guy didn’t take the hint.

Each lighthearted joke, each compliment to her, the way his eyes scanned her body like she was just some meat irked Sloan. Enough that they decided they wanted to leave early. But they couldn’t just say that. They would feel bad if they forced Y/n to leave so soon.

“Wow I’m so tired! It’s so late.” Sloan fake yawned as they looked at Y/n. She knew what was up because Sloan never usually got tired this early. She nodded agreeing with them. “Yeah it really is, we should get home.” Sloan mentally cheered as the two. Said their goodbyes and eventually went to the home they shared.

As soon as the door closed behind Y/n, Sloan pushed her against the wall, their eyes looking down at her almost with jealousy. But she was focused on how long and pretty their eyelashes were.

“Somebody was being a bit too friendly.” They said with their voice laced with venom. Their hands rested on the soft curves of her body. “What? Sloan I-“ “He was flirting, you and I both know that.” Y/n didn’t say much. It was true. She knew that he was flirting but she didn’t entertain it. Why would she?

“Did you like the attention? Hm? If you just wanted attention mi dulce princesa you could have just asked.” Sloan knew how their Spanish affected her. Like it was a cheat code to get her to fold.

“I-I no- It’s not..” But there wasn’t a good enough excuse. Maybe she did want attention. But it’s not like she would ask them for it. She expected them to just know.

“You’re such a terrible liar. If you wanted me to compliment you I would have told you that you were prettier than any star in the sky. Or maybe you wanted to be lusted over. Seen as sexy? And god you really are.”

Sloan looked from her eyes to her lips. Then to her neck. They leaned in and kissed her neck, softly biting upon some parts of it. They then went up and kissed her gently. Some of her darker red lipstick going onto their lips.

“I’ll give you all the attention you could ever ask for tonight, hermosa princesa.”

Cliffhanger!! But I might continue it just lmk if I should, possessive Venture I need them sm

[leclerc-s]

the blonde bitch always with them

series masterlist

arthur leclerc how do i kick someone out of my apartment nicely?

arthur leclerc asking for a friend..

max jones-verstappen you don't... just own it.

daphne jones-ricciardo coming from the man who is cuddling my husband you have no say.

zoya torres LMAOOOO!!! SUCKS TO SUCK LECLERC!!!!

arthur leclerc SHUT UP ZOYA! THIS IS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN!

dulce perez he's going through a break-up arthur. leave him alone.

dulce perez HE ALSO LIVES WITH US!!

ollie bearman that's a dick move arthur.

arthur leclerc he's been going through break-ups ever two days. he's literally just watching grey's anatomy.

isabella perez to be fair, that's a very valid reason.

oscar piastri you cried yesterday when you find out that daphne did a mashup of is it over now? and out of the woods.

bailey winters also very valid

dulce perez louis said, 'how am i supposed to move on after mark and lexie's death? i am in pain and also suffering arthur!"

daphne jones-ricciardo that is a very valid excuse arthur. leave the boy alone arthur.

arthur leclerc why can't my third wheel be like joris? why do i have to get stuck with the blonde guy?

pato o'ward not everyone can have a joris arthur. sucks for you.

arthur leclerc i hope isa crashes your next date patricio. gael perez now why would you wish that on me?

fernando alonso pobrecito.

arthur leclerc SEB! HE'S BEING MEAN!

fernando alonso snitch.

sebastian vettel fernando be nice to the poor boy. can't you see he's suffering?

arthur leclerc all of you are fake. so fake.

dulce perez wow. some men just have the audacity.

liked by babs.rodriguez, schecoperez, maxjonesverstappen1 and others

dulceperez baking is a task that is taking very seriously in the perez-leclerc-graham household

tagged: arthur_leclerc, louis_graham

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olivia.johnson this basically confirms it to me that louis is dulce and arthur's child

liked by babs.rodriguez, isabellaperez and others

↳ louis_graham they feed me, i live with them, i go to races with them. i am their child.

↳ arthur_leclerc you live with us and not because it was my choice.

↳ louis_graham BECAUSE I LIVED THERE FIRST LECLERC! YOU MOVED INTO OUR APARTMENT BITCH!

marcus_42 love how neither one of you is making the same thing

↳ dulceperez everyone had different cravings...

babs.rodriguez hey siri, what do i do when my friends have once again forgotten my existance?

↳ dulceperez you said, 'you don't want me baking. it'll be worse than charles' poor excuse of a dish when he attempts to cook.'

↳ arthur_leclerc then you said, 'i'll eat whatever you people make. except for arthur's. i don't trust a leclerc, except mama leclerc, when it comes to food.'

↳ louis_graham and you proceeded to judge us as if you were gordon ramsay.

↳ charles_leclerc catching strays from the strays dulce brought in 🙄

isabellaperez no invite?

↳ dulceperez you were hanging out with your boyfriend and your 'sons'

↳ olliebearman no invite?

↳ oscarpiastri no invite?

↳ dulceperez and watch you two flirt with arthur? please, i already have louis to do that.

schecoperez el apartamento esta bien? no lo quemaron? is the apartment okay? you didn't burn it down?

↳ dulceperez todo bien tio! arthur tuvo supervisión! all good uncle! arthur had supervision.

↳ arthur_leclerc charles lacks talent in the kitchen. i am a decent baker.

louis_graham posted new stories

😴❤️ some get me away from these two. i live with this now i have to deal with this shit in public? about to beat all these bitches during game night.

dulce perez never trust a word arthur leclerc says.

isabella perez in the words of the great kendrick lamar, 'you a bitch and a liar too'

gael perez it's habitual liar isa.

isabella perez no fucking way i've been singing that part wrong.

arthur leclerc that picture is false! i don't like that man. can't stand his fake ass.

daphne jones-ricciardo lying is not good arthur.

ollie bearman caught them cuddling after game night on saturday.

fernando alonso i caught them cuddling after bahrain.

lewis hamilton could've fooled me if you asked me if they were dating.

max jones-verstappen toto circa 2014 about nico and lewis. rhys jones gp circa 2018 about daniel and max

oscar piastri arthur's in love and not with dulce.

arthur leclerc i can't stand you either.

logan sargeant now that's a lie. you were literally asking him for a kiss on new year's.

bailey winters mr. steal you boy over here.

arthur leclerc LIARS! ALL OF YOU LIARS!!

dulce perez admit you like him!

arthur leclerc lying is not good!

carlos sainz cuando le conviene (when it's convenient)

penelope trevino when you stop ditching me for lando then you can talk.

carlos sainz I SAID SORRY!! bailey winters and why is that we're still getting ditched?

sebastian vettel boys..we talked about this.

lando norris we're trying really hard seb.

dulce perez AS I WAS SAYING!!! NEVER TRUST A WORD ARTHUR LECLERC SAYS!! HE'S A BIG FAT LIAR!!

dulce perez he ditched me this morning to get breakfast with louis.

pato o'ward no mames wey.

arthur leclerc i left to get breakfast and louis followed me.

gael perez wow. i'm telling tio checo.

arthur leclerc DO NOT SNITCH ME OUT! I DIDN'T COMMIT ANY CRIMES!!

isabella perez snitch him out!! through him in the slammer!!

arthur leclerc if i die just know it was their fault.

charles leclerc you deserve it for what you did earlier.

natalia ruiz but did they lie?

charles leclerc 🙄 🙄 🙄

daniel jones-ricciardo i hope you enjoy the couch buddy.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! no one act surprised that i disappeared for two days and came back to post this randomly. i have no posting schedule and even if i did i probably wouldn't be able to stick to it.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[soleilnomoon]

May I get a oatmeal raisin cookie, dulce de leche roll, nougat, with caramel on top with Law from One Piece, with a f!reader, please?

hiii angel 😊💕 ty for your patience, i had fun writing this one, something short & sweet as law is the worst and i h8 him (i'm lying ofc).

1.8k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, a lil bit of angst (i can never help myself ok) mixed w. smut; feat. cute thangs like law being the worst ever, delusion on both law and reader's part, rough (consensual) sex, reader as always lacks self-preservation, but that's how i like her; law likes to think he's above intimacy but lbr he ain't. (if u see spelling/grammatical errors, no u didn't <3)

if he’s honest with himself — and he often isn’t — you brought this on yourself. he’s grown beyond tired of repeating himself throughout the day; he tells you as much after he instructs you to hold onto the backs of your thighs to expose your pussy to him in a way you’ve never done before. there’s something almost clinical about the way his amber eyes take in your body. his gaze is hawkish, a little cold, but also very familiar — leaving behind a blazing path with every passing second.

you knew you shouldn’t have pushed him, but you were having so much fun earlier, and things are always exciting whenever he gets angry. what you didn’t count on, was law reacting so quickly. normally he lets you have your way and then deals with you the next day, preferring to drag out his punishments — but today, you really toed the line. you’d be proud if you weren’t currently in a bind.

one ironclad rule that everyone on board the polar tang follows, is to never disturb the captain while he’s working. on the rare occasions where there’s an absolute need for his assistance, he’ll make an exception — but you’ve never cared about that, often provoking him in front of the others, flirting as you taunt him by not wearing the appropriate attire in the submarine.

trafalgar law thrives on order, on ensuring his crew follows his plans exactly the way he wants them to, and without question, too. you’ve always thought the others archaic and ridiculous for following him blindly like that, and, besides, law makes it easy to tease him. constantly finding reasons to touch him, always making sure to sit right next to him during meals, your hand drifting to touch his thigh under the table, nails dragging down he inseam of his denim.

whenever you act like that, whenever you brush up against him with the intent of rattling his nerves, he has to remind himself that it’s not feasible for him to fuck you on the table for everyone to see exactly how he likes to deal with you. it’s because you know he won’t do it, that you keep poking.

he stopped fighting you ages ago, but he doesn’t let you get away with much in front of the others.

except for today. you actually managed to fluster him in an irreparable way, so he’s teaching you a lesson.

there are books, papers, and pens scattered on the floor near the desk — law shoved them off to drop you on the surface without restriction. you’re on your back, hot tears pooling around your eyes, threatening to roll down your round cheeks without mercy.

when he originally called you into his office, you figured he’d give you a lecture then send you on your way; but the moment you entered, he had you backed against the door, long fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly. you’re normally not so careless to let yourself be caught off guard like that, but he has height and strength to his advantage always.

you expected him to kiss you then, to make you fall apart without even doing much — but he didn’t, as usual, he always refuses to kiss you. the sting of that rejection somehow always leaves you with a bitter feeling that you swallow with great difficulty each time. you don’t know why you get your hopes up like that; law isn’t intimate, nor does he crave any sort of romantic companionship. you know that, and yet you still can’t help yourself; hope is a dangerous thing, so you unfortunately have to learn that lesson repeatedly.

“don’t move,” is all he says when he slides the tip of his cock inside your tight hole before snapping his hips forward, the motion making your hips twitch and has your pussy clench around him. it’s pure desperation that has you whimpering and pleading with him to hurry up.

he doesn’t listen — and why would he? he’s the one in charge here, not you. still, he doesn’t make you wait for long, as he thrusts his cock in and out, enjoying the way your slick clings to his length, your thighs warm and soft each time his hips meet yours. you bite down hard on your bottom lip, hoping to keep quiet — knowing it’ll piss him off even more, but law isn’t having it. he plucks your lip away from your teeth, cock pounding into you harder, making you choke on his name.

“behave,” he clicks his tongue afterward, but gives you a dark smile. “you’ll take what i give you and like it.” more than like it, really; your mind is a jumbled mess, thoughts bouncing around erratically, heart beating too fast, as if you’re running an eternal marathon. he leans down, licks along your collarbone, nipping at the skin there, hips rolling against yours at a devastating pace. it makes you rethink all the times you acted out, makes you want to repent somehow — and this does serve as some sort of penance, even if you’re getting pleasure out of it.

and he is too; out of your submission, out of his domination of you. it’s always exhilarating when he has the upper hand in any given situation, but with you he’s amplified tenfold, and he doesn’t know why. or he pretends he doesn’t, anyway.

when you plead for him to slow down, he sucks his teeth and speeds up, reminding that he’s the one in charge — and always has been. your pussy swallows most of his length, a feat that he continues to remain in awe of. no matter how rough he is with you, you always manage to survive and he supposes he likes that about you.

your tenacity is dangerous, though, and if he’s not careful he might end up liking you more than necessary. even though he already does. he watches the expressions on your face, the ecstasy despite all your complaints — you just like running your mouth, is all; he knows that now.

law pulls out of you without warning, leaving a aching, vacant feeling in your pussy. you open your mouth to protest, but he motions for you to get on your hands and knees. he hisses in annoyance when you rub your ass against his hardened length; his patience is practically nonexistent, and you feel it when he grabs your ass and thrusts inside you again.

the change in position has you arching your back, a bit of drool gliding down your bottom lip and spilling onto your chin as you reach back and grab his hip. you bounce your ass against him, matching the timing of his thrusts; a warmth crawls around his chest as he watches the way his cock moves in and out of your pussy. he doesn’t know what to do with that feeling, so he swallows back a groan and grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you closer.

your whining grips him around the throat, makes him think about going easier on you — but then he remembers your insolence and drags his lips along the curve of your ear.

“stop running.”

an impossible request, you know that he knows that; but you take it anyway, grateful that he’s fucking you hard enough to make you forget you have feelings for him. you know later on you’ll mull over what you should or shouldn’t have said, but for now you’ll enjoy the way his cock kisses a spot so deep that it has your eyes rolling back. your words are barely coherent when he kisses the side of your neck, and he almost moans your name out loud when you clench around him in retaliation. and, because he refuses to let you push things in your favor, he rubs your clit with his fingers, your wetness dripping down your thighs so prettily, pussy squelching loudly with each thrust of his cock.

you know that this will only end with your heart in torn carelessly into pieces, but you don’t care; the rush that overwhelms you with each orgasm he gives you is worth it. it’s a powerful delusion, one that you’ll keep for as long as you can. law pinches your clit impulsively, and the way you tremble beneath him, the way you cry out for more more more nearly incapacitates him.

but he stands strong, thankfully.

it’s only when his strokes get sloppy and frenetic, that an orgasm seizes control of your body.

“you’re squeezing so tight,” he says lightly, breathing uneven against your skin, pressing kisses on your shoulder, “must be feeling good, hm?” he knows why you can’t answer him, which is why he pushes you back down onto the desk and slaps your ass. you’re not sure if it’s the aggression or the fact that you’re nearly spent, but it’s like your orgasm is never ending. arousal pools around your abdomen as sweat clings to your skin; he won’t last much longer, but he wants to delude himself into thinking he can handle more.

“too much,” you manage to say, pussy overstimulated, sensitive, and puffy; but you still arch against him, still buck your hips backwards, enjoying the way law seems every bit as obsessed with you as you are with him. you know you’ll be sore in the morning, but it’ll be worth it; and you know that no matter what he says, you affect him more than he’s ever willing to admit publicly.

your pussy has him in a literal chokehold, which is always the case whenever he fucks you, but tonight it feels different. he’s not sure what it is, but something compels him to pull you flush against his chest. when you turn your face towards him, he kisses you, the impulse surprising both of you. he cums the moment your lips part and his tongue glides inside your mouth, artful and graceful as it caresses your tongue with familiarity. a flush takes hold of your body, making your skin hot to the touch, but he doesn’t stop kissing you; his thrusts are slower, almost sensual but he refuses to read too much into it. when he pulls away, he tries to catch his breath, heart suddenly much too big for his chest when he realizes what he just did. you don’t bother teasing him about it, as your body is currently out of commission, your thoughts obliterated of anything that isn’t related to him.

he glances down and sees the way your cum spills onto his desk, the sight burned into his mind. you don’t even remember if you locked the door when you came in — and anyone could’ve heard the way law had you screaming, the pleasure much to great to keep quiet no matter how hard you tried. he isn’t worried about that, though; he’s concerned with how he’s supposed to move forward now that he’s allowed you a bit of intimacy and vulnerability. he supposes he can think about that later, so for now he runs a hand down his face before giving your ass a playful slap and commending you for a job well done.

[matchalovertrait]

Dulce couldn't tell if her parents knew of Alex's intentions (or lack thereof), but that didn't matter. She wasn't going to mention this to anybody. The thought of others knowing she was still waiting around for Alex was too embarrassing. She wasn't even aware of it either. Honestly, she thought she had moved on too. She flirted with Brian Kwon! That's something, isn't it? Anyway, it's time to bury this and forget it ever happened.

Translations:

Ya llegó = She's here already.

Transcript:

Noemí: [Commenting on movie] Poor little fox, good things are coming their way.

Erick: Why do people say cartoons are only for children? This is profound stuff!

Noemí: [Hears door unlock] Cariño, turn the TV off! Dulce ya llegó.

Erick: Race you to her!

Noemí: How‘d it go, Mija?

Dulce: It was wonderful, Mami. Thank you.

Dulce: I had so much fun with all of my friends. My life is like a movie.. or a TV show.

Erick: I‘m so happy it went well.

Noemí: You must be tired from all the dancing! We’ll let you head off to bed now.

Dulce: How humiliating.

Dulce: Was it obvious to everyone else that this was supposed to be purely platonic?

[miguelswifey04]

Since we read about fics involving Miguel O’Hara having to flirt/tease the reader in Spanish whenever he wants to, how about we reverse it.

Could we ask for some HCs of his partner [Gender Neutral] teasing/flirting with him in their native language?

It can be any other language.

hi! yea of course, i shall do spanish since i am fluent in both spanish and english <3

gn! reader x miguel o’hara

flirty/teasing miguel headcanons

you two would have a romantic date at a restaurant where you both could see the full moon 🌕 and candles being lit which creates a cute environment and you take the initiative to be flirty with him.. “miguel, en tu compañía cada bocado es un festín para mis sentidos. eres el postre más dulce en esta noche tan especial.” (miguel, in your company every bite is a feast for my senses. you are the sweetest dessert on this special night.) he’s obviously super surprised because you just wowed him and he can’t help but blush like a teenage boy <3

you’d definitely go up to him while he’s busy with work or a project and whisper how handsome he is in spanish such as “tu eres tan guapo” (you are very handsome) and even though it’s a simple compliment, you still are able to make him swoon easily despite his serious and stoic demeanor.

love notes and love written in spanish because it is a language where you and miguel can express each other more. he loves to read and reread them every chance he got because of how romantic you are.

both of you are hopeless romantics LOL so you may be overly romantic at times but miguel does not mind that at all since he loves it a lot…

one time while miguel was looking at his scanners in the control room, you caught him off guard by saying "tu sonrisa ilumina mi mundo" (you smile lights up my world), and he didn’t know whether to hug you on the spot or cry only because he didn’t know that he MEANT that much to you; he’s still working on being more secure in the relationship 😔

teasing him in spanish LITERALLY makes him so putty and you are surprised to see that you have the power to make miguel fold for you…he tries to act like what you say doesn’t make him blush or make his heart do flips but they do <33

———

a/n: for some reason doing HCS or fics where it’s on the readers perspective takes more time/effort 😭

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

And All the Pieces Fall Right Into Place

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 2

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

3.7k words

Warnings: Language, adults drinking adult things, a smidge of slut-shaming, sexual references, immature adults, Roy being Roy

Holi Dani! I’m back in town. Let’s get together tonight! I miss you!

Under April’s watchful eye, I typed my text to Dani Rojas and hit send. I knew full well that the Greyhounds had a game; Keeley Jones had sent me their schedule, after all. Step one of the most insane idea in the world was officially in motion.

“Remember, you can’t seem too desperate,” April reminded me as we lounged in my living room. “We don’t want it to be obvious that you’re fishing for an invite. Just be really subtle, like ‘Oh you have a match? Wow I’ve never been to one.’ You know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know, I know.”

Bzz!

Dani’s quick response would have been surprising if it was anyone else; but Dani Rojas was the friendliest, most accommodating person I knew. Since we first met at a party for some tequila brand back in L.A., Dani and I immediately clicked. Our paths crossed frequently enough in London, and I considered him one of my favorite people in England. We bonded over our shared desire to find good pan dulce in London and how much we missed our big, crazy families when we were away. It wouldn’t be too hard to finagle an invitation to his game, right?

Aww chula, I wish! I’ve got a fútbol match tonight.

Just as I was crafting a text that would score me a ticket to Nelson Road, another message came in.

You should come!

“Well, shit,” I laughed, showing April my screen. “That was almost too easy.”

My assistant- sidekick and soulmate, I preferred to call her- chuckled and started typing on her own phone. “I’ll let Keeley and Lanie know that our mission is complete. And I’ll take care of getting your ticket. All you have to worry about now is looking hot and having a good meet-cute.” She paused, pursing her lips. “You and Kent… you two can flirt with each other, right?”

“The heck’s that supposed to mean?” I snorted as I texted Dani back, letting him know that I would love to go to his game.

She shrugged. “You two just didn’t seem to like each other very much.” Her matter-of-fact tone held no emotion. “You’re going to have to pull some Daniel Day-Lewis level acting for this to work.” April grinned at me. “I mean, your goal is to get an EGOT, right? Maybe your Oscar will be for acting.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as Dani texted me back, all excitement. “Well, just call me Meryl, because that’s how good my acting will have to be to get people to think I’m into someone like Roy Kent.”

April’s face softened. “You’ve gotta admit,” she said slowly, “he’s pretty cute.”

“Cute?” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, sure, I could see how he could be considered handsome by some people. I could totally see him with models and shit. But if you’re worried about me falling for the guy, don’t stress.” I slouched further into my couch. “No way in hell am I falling for Roy freaking Kent.”

~

Keeley grinned and showed her phone to Roy. “She got Dani to invite her!” she hissed to the manager as they ate lunch together in his office. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

“Yeah,” Roy muttered flatly as he poked at his food. “Great.”

What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He hated this kind of shit, the paparazzi and attention. And he hated her party-girl lifestyle, always out at clubs. And what the fuck were they supposed to talk about on the dates Keeley would surely make them go on? He liked football, hanging out with Phoebe, reading… What did she like? Flirting with scrawny rockstars? Stealing her best friend’s boyfriend (according to the tabloid he’d noticed at the store that morning)? Her Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse, or wherever it was she lived when she was in Los Angeles? And he was going to have to endure months of this. Fucking hell.

But it was for Keeley, he reminded himself as he watched the blonde munch happily on her salad. She’d asked him to do something, something she knew he’d hate, and he said ‘yes’ without complaint. That had to mean something, right? Surely that would earn him a few points with her, maybe even enough to forget about the whole ‘pick one’ shit he and Jamie had pulled. She’d definitely see how above and beyond Roy was willing to go for her and remember why she had loved him, wouldn’t she?

Besides, seeing him with an admittedly gorgeous popstar on his arm might even make Keeley a smidge jealous.

“It’s gonna work.” Keeley’s reassuring voice penetrated his thoughts. “I know it is. You wouldn’t believe who’s gotten away with this scheme. You know that actor from-”

I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Roy stood, frowning in the direction of the suddenly bolstering changing room. “What the fuck is that?”

Keeley grinned as she hopped up and followed his gaze to the sight of Jamie and Colin and a few other guys shaking their hips and singing along. “Your new girlfriend,” she whispered with a wink. “Come on, Roy, you know this one. It was only her big hit last summer.”

“Hmmph.” Yeah, he recognized the catchy tune that still seemed to always be on the radio all these months later; Phoebe’d made him play it about twenty times in the car just that week. But why the fuck was his team screeching it while they got ready for their afternoon training?

Jamie’s smile widened at the sight of Roy and Keeley. “Oi! Did ya hear Dani’s news?”

“What’s up?” Keeley asked, as if she didn’t know exactly what Jamie was about to say.

Sure enough, Jamie pointed in the direction of Colin’s little speaker, where the music was blasting from. “She’s comin’! To our game tonight!” He looked just about ready to do a cartwheel. “Apparently, she and Dani are buddies, and he invited her to watch us! Can you believe it?”

“You’re kidding!” Keeley gasped convincingly, smacking Jamie on the arm. “How the fuck did he never tell us they’re friends?” She glanced at Roy before turning back to Jamie. “D’you reckon he’ll get her to go out with you boys tonight? Or is she too famous for our little Greyhounds?”

Richard appeared over Jamie’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he sighed. “She recently broke up with her boyfriend.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She’ll be looking for a rebound, no?”

Roy rolled his eyes. Shit, was this going to be an even bigger distraction than he thought, he realized. For the millionth time since he stood in Keeley’s office and signed the NDA, Roy was regretting this decision. But when he saw the excitement shining in Keeley’s eyes as she watched the Greyhounds dance around, he couldn’t help the soft sigh he let out.

Fuck, he hoped it was worth it.

~

I took one last look in the mirror. Little jean skirt, black leather jacket, boots. April had assured me that the outfit was perfect: casual enough for a game, stylish enough for a night out with the team, hot enough to catch the attention of Roy Kent. Or at least, look like I’d caught the attention of Roy Kent.

The car ride to Nelson Road was quicker than I’d expected, and the walk to my seat was a blur of phones taking photos and my name gasped out of people’s mouths. I wondered if, with all the time I’d be spending at Nelson Road in the coming weeks, the reaction would die down. Or if, like Keeley Jones had implied towards the end of our first meeting, my presence would lead to a spike in attendance.

She seemed to be hoping for the latter, because she made sure my seat was very visible: right by the pitch, close to the Greyhounds’ dugout. Even if I wasn’t the biggest soccer fan, I had to admit it was exciting being so close to the field; I quickly snapped a few pictures to send to my family, who would appreciate the view much more than I ever could.

When the team came out, I joined in the enthusiastic cheers and screams, shouting Dani’s name loudly. His face lit up when he spotted me, and I saw him nudging his teammates and pointing in my direction. Keeley had warned me about their reactions; indeed, they were grabbing each other and making faces similar to the ones my nephew made when he saw Mickey Mouse on his first trip to Disneyland.

“Whistle!”

The two syllables slammed against my ears. There he was, no longer in the black leather jacket I’d met him in, but instead wearing a dark blue Greyhounds jacket. One of the players- Jamie Tartt, I remembered- started animatedly talking to a very bored-looking Roy Kent. With one of those eyerolls that I knew I’d have to get used to seeing, he turned in my direction.

Despite my initial instinct to roll my own eyes, I instead forced myself to hold his gaze for a moment. A horrified thought suddenly struck me: Could Roy Kent pull this off?

Then his mouth tugged upwards in the corner, forming an admittedly sexy little smirk. In return, I let my eyes wander down his figure, taking in the way his jacket hugged his muscular arms and the way his pants hugged thick thighs. Damn. If I hadn’t already met him, if I hadn’t already discovered what a cranky and irritable grouch Roy Kent was, I’d probably be attracted to his smug expression and athletic build. He wasn’t my usual type, but I couldn’t deny that he was, frankly, kind of gorgeous.

He gave me a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his team and shouting at them, his sharp yell reminding me that I was here for a reason. Remembering Keeley’s instructions, I pulled out my phone and snapped a couple of photos of the pitch, making sure to get Roy and the other Greyhounds in the frame. I quickly posted the picture to my social media and tagged Dani in it, as Keeley had suggested.

With the “official business” out of the way, I relaxed in my seat and prepared to at least appear to look like I was enjoying the game. Figuring that there were eyes and cameras pointed in my direction, I made myself steal several glances at Roy Kent; he must have been thinking the same thing, because more than once, he was already looking over at me.

~

Roy sighed when he looked over at the corner where most of the Richmond players were assembled, practically falling over themselves to get in a word with her.

It was a bit perplexing, honestly. These men were professional athletes. They regularly dated models and actresses. But this singer, this popstar, had them falling all over themselves trying to chat her up. Sure, Roy thought, her level of fame was pretty fucking impressive. She’d won a couple of Grammys, her songs were constantly on the radio, and he’d heard her latest tour was practically impossible to get tickets for. So maybe some of their fawning was justified.

He glanced at his phone, wishing he was at home in bed already. With a deep exhale, he made a beeline for Dani; the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave, he reasoned.

“Oi,” Roy grunted as he approached the striker. He nodded towards the swarm of players, doing his best to keep his trademark disinterested expression on his face. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”

Dani’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “You too, eh Coach?” He chuckled and clapped Roy on the shoulder. “Vámonos.”

Roy’s heart stuttered in his chest as he followed Dani to the corner of the club, where he saw, of all people, Jamie sitting close to the singer, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed at whatever he said and responded with a smile on her face. Her eyes flickered to Roy as he approached; was that… disappointment he saw?

If it was, it was only there for a fraction of a second. Just like on the pitch, her eyes trailed over his figure, a small smirk forming on her lips. If he didn’t know better, Roy would be intrigued by the boldness on her face, the uninhibited way she eyed him. In the back of his head, he couldn’t help feeling a bit smug when he saw the way Jamie’s brows furrowed as the striker looked back and forth between the two.

She kept her eyes on Roy as she stood up and stepped away from Jamie and the guys. She batted her lashes at Roy before turning to Dani, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Shit, Roy thought. She’s good at this.

“Chula,” Dani said, smiling at his friend. “I want you to meet my coach, Roy.” He turned to Roy. “Coach, this is-”

Roy reached out and took her hand in his and shaking it slowly. “Only an idiot doesn’t know who you are,” he hummed, raising his eyebrows. “You caused quite a stir with my team, you know. You enjoy the match?”

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “I did. Sorry if I was a bit of a distraction.”

“I think you actually brought us luck.” Fucking hell, when was the last time Roy flirted like this? Was he doing it right? “You should come again sometime.”

Her smile widened as she tilted her head coyly. “Well, if that’s an invitation, maybe I will.”

Desperate to end this charade, Roy cleared his throat. “Have these fellas bought you a drink yet?” When she shook her head, he rolled his eyes playfully. “Fucking hell, guess I need to remind them what fucking manners look like.” With that, he placed his hand on her lower back and nodded towards the bar. “Come on, then.”

She winked at Dani and let Roy lead her to the bar, keeping that coy smile plastered on her face. Once they had ordered, she looked up at him, still smirking.

“Kent,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Watch your fucking hands.”

Sure enough, Roy realized that his hand was dangerously low, just above the curve of her ass. Shit.

Despite his embarrassment, Roy scoffed, although he did remove his hand. “You’re a natural at that flirting shit,” he all but sneered. “Then again, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, with all your shaggy little rockstar pricks.”

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second as the bartender slid over her drink. Still, she kept her expression neutral; to anyone watching them, she looked as though she was enjoying their conversation. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her snarky tone contrasted with her sweet face. “Tell me more about the women who sell stories about your dick to the press and steal your watches?”

“Oi,” Roy growled as he picked his beer up off the bar. “That happened once, alright?”

“You mean it got into the papers once,” she grumbled, sipping her drink. She raised her eyebrows at him. “So, what’s the plan?”

Roy frowned. “Fuck d’you mean? We’re doing the fucking plan.”

She shook her head. “Like, are you going to ask me to dance? Are we taking off and going to a restaurant or some shit?” Roy avoided looking at the way her lips wrapped around her little straw as she sipped her drink. “Keeley said it’s up to us, just no going home together on the first night.” The little snort she gave would’ve been adorable coming from anyone else. “As if.”

“Well, I guess if we dance, we don’t have to fucking talk,” Roy muttered, doing his best to mirror her amiable expression; it was challenging, he realized, looking cheery while feeling irritated as hell. He downed the rest of his beer and practically slammed the empty bottle on the bar. “One song, alright? I don’t usually fucking dance.”

“Trust me,” she hummed, finishing the last of her drink. “For me, you’d make an exception.” Flashing what he assumed was her most winning smile, she took Roy’s hand and led him to the crowded dance floor.

On the dance floor, she pressed her body close to his, her movements teasing and natural. Everything about her- her hips, her smile, her eyes on his, the way her hands played with her hair flirtatiously- would have normally had Roy’s chest feeling tight with attraction.

She brought her lips to his ear, looking as though she was probably flirting with him. “I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you get a boner, I will fucking kill you.”

Yeah. Right.

~

Officially introduced? Check.

Flirted? Check.

Had a drink together? Check.

Danced? Check.

We’d gone through enough of the motions. There was no way I was going to spend more time with Kent than I had to; we’d be thrown together enough in the coming weeks once the “dating” began. Besides, Keeley had warned me that Roy didn’t like to stay out late anymore. He was probably even more ready to call it a night than I was.

Sure enough, after a couple of songs, he gave a small grunt and looked at his phone.

“Should get going,” he grumbled.

“Why?” I huffed, fluffing my hair. “Will you fall asleep right here on the dance floor soon?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real ball of fucking sunshine?”

“That’s an improvement from nightmare.” I exhaled and tugged at his jacket. “C’mere.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“So I can say goodnight, you idiot. Someone’s bound to take a photo of this.” Not waiting for an answer, I pulled his face close to mine and planted a small, lingering kiss on his cheek. His face was warm, a little itchy from his beard, and now carried a little red mark from my lipstick. I smiled up at him and released his jacket. “Goodnight, Roy Kent,” I hummed.

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Right. Goodnight, then.” He reached down and gave my hand a squeeze before turning and walking away, his movements stiff and almost robotic.

Fighting the urge to childishly wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, I returned to the corner where the Greyhounds were gathered. Dani’s face lit up when I slid into the booth next to him and stole a sip of his drink.

“Did you have fun dancing with Coach Kent, amor?” he asked, his voice dripping with teasing.

I smirked at my friend. “He was very nice,” I declared with a playful eyeroll.

“Roy doesn’t normally dance,” one of the players- Colin- informed me. “And he usually doesn’t stay out this late.” He waggled his eyebrows at me over his beer. “Wonder why he came out tonight.”

Putting on my best coy smile, I leaned forward. “What about when his girlfriend comes out with you all? Doesn’t he dance with her?”

Immediately, all the men at the table shook their heads. “Roy doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Isaac, their captain, clarified. “He actually hasn’t really dated anyone since….” He glanced around the table. “Well, since he broke up with his serious girlfriend, Keeley.”

“Keeley?” I echoed without thinking. “Keeley Jones?”  

Dani’s smile widened. “Oh, how do you know Keeley?”

Shit.

“I don’t,” I lied. “But I’ve heard of her. We’ve got some mutual friends. She’s a model, right?”

Isaac nodded. “She’s moved into PR, actually. Runs her own firm, works with the club. She’s brilliant.”

“And once upon a time, she and Roy were our OTP,” Colin sighed dreamily. “But they’re good friends now. Them and Jamie and their weird little dynamic.”

“Jamie dated her too,” Dani explained. “Before her and Roy got together.”

I nodded, slowly piecing together the story. “Jamie dated her too?” I chuckled, wondering why I felt like I should have been told all this ahead of time. “Gosh, she has a type, doesn’t she? Dating two guys from the same team.” I put my hands up and quickly added, “Not that I have the right to judge. I dated bandmates once, did not turn out well for the band.”

The guys laughed good-naturedly. As I was about to feign interest and ask another question about Roy, Jamie Tartt approached, plopping down on my other side and setting down a drink in front of me, his arm behind me on the booth casually.

“Finally escaped from Grandad, eh?” he joked, eyes twinkling playfully.

Damn. Normally, his pretty-boy looks and admittedly annoying swagger would be exactly what I wanted, and we’d probably have a fun couple of weeks in each other’s beds. But I needed to stick to the plan; besides, wasn’t I done with guys like this?

Offering the athlete nothing but a polite smile, I turned back to Dani and took my friend’s hand. “It was fun watching you play today,” I hummed. “Think I could come again? Become a Greyhounds fan?”

“Yes!” Dani kissed my forehead. ��Please, amor, come to more of our games.” He nudged me. “I’m sure Coach Kent would not mind one bit.”

Hoping my smile was shy rather than obviously fake, I giggled. “He did tell me I brought you all luck,” I said slowly. I batted my eyelashes at Dani. “Don’t suppose you could pass along my phone number to him? I’d love to know which game he’d like me to bring luck to.”

The table fell into a dead silence, all eyes wide and mouths agape. After the guys exchanged looks that could only be described as utterly shocked, Colin finally cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “are you asking Dani to give Roy your phone number?”

Feigning innocence, I nodded. “Sure,” I chirped. “Is that alright? You all said he’s single, so…” I shrugged and turned to Dani. “Unless you think it’s too weird, chulo?”

“No, no,” Dani assured me. “I can give him your number.” He tilted his head at me. “You… you liked Coach Kent, then?”

Nope. Not at all. Not one fucking bit.

“Sure,” I giggled, hating myself. “I mean, as much as I can like a man after one drink and a couple of dances.”

His smile lit up the entire club as he lifted his drink. “Well, then Coach Kent is a lucky man. I will give him your number tomorrow, how does that sound?”

I tapped my glass to Dani’s. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @hotleaf-juice @emmy2811 @captainorbust-blog @preciousbabypeter @shion-ah @royalestrellas

[landitolover]

that’s the way i loved you

ೀ landitolover’s f1 masterlist

MAX VERSTAPPEN, 1

‎♡‧₊˚ getaway car, in which, if charles didn’t care for you, maybe a specific red bull driver he doesn’t really like, will ! ( part two of sdg )

LOGAN SARGEANT, 2

‎♡‧₊˚ feather, in which logan shoots his shot with a popstar that just got out of a longterm relationship !

LANDO NORRIS, 4

‎♡‧₊˚ not a lot, just forever, in which lando and his fiancée joke about having kids (cats), but then randomly just drop an actual pregnancy announcement !

‎♡‧₊˚ head over heels, in which he’s head over heels for the girl who always interviews him !

PIERRE GASLY, 10

‎♡‧₊˚ girls on film, in which he’s dating everyone’s favorite singer !

CHARLES LECLERC, 16

‎♡‧₊˚ say don’t go, in which he isn’t the best person to be in a relationship with.. ! (requested)

‎♡‧₊˚ ferrari’s girl, in which pedri loves to get on charles' nerves by flirting with his girlfriend.. ! (requested)

OSCAR PIASTRI, 81

‎♡‧₊˚ mini series, dulce hotline. part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight !

ೀ landitolover’s other motorsports

OLIVER BEARMAN, 8

‎♡‧₊˚ new romantics, in which everyone thinks that she’s dating her skating partner, but her actual boyfriend starts to feel a bit insecure !

LIAM LAWSON, 15

‎♡‧₊˚ this love, in which everyone adores liam and his girlfriends relationship !

MICK SCHUMACHER, 47

‎♡‧₊˚ barbie and ken, in which mick and his girlfriend are irl barbie and ken !

[punkeropercyjackson]

Headcanons on the Spiderband's favorite foods

I'm really sorry for not doing the full cast like i did with my other posts like this,the thought of having to do that many characters for this is too much for me even though i want to :( But i hope you like this anyway!!

Miles:Gonna project and say that despite being carribean,his favorite kind of latino food is actually mexican and his tops are loaded nachos and mexican hot chocolate.Other than that she's a BIG sweet tooth,especially strawberries!Gotta be one of her favorite gender's /lh.Naturally Hobie asks Rio to teach him how to cook all her faves

Gwen:Since i headcanon her as a black/white mixed dominican(projection part 2),her's are pechurina with fries,dulces de leche and huelitas.For drinks,she favors energy ones and the Spiderband have to physically force her to cut down on them for her own good

Hobie:Indian kinds of tea specifically,shortbread fingers,janga and brazillian pizzas.Yeah i'm serious on that last one,his autistic ass thinks they're gourmet meals

Pavitr:The especially spicy kinds chicken and cupcakes but refuses to eat the latter in 'white people flavors'

Margo:Junk food,fast food,desserts.She calls Gwen a menace as an in denial flirting tactic(also her ultimate favorite flavor fullstop in anything is cotton candy)

Peni:Okomomiyaki,dorayaki,sweet kinds of onigiri,pez and chili fries.Large love for large drinks

Miles G:To contrast Miles and because i must can and will make everything about my familial selfships,his is dominican and his tops are mangu with everything(so salami,onions AND eggs)and flan.He also hates ensure because one time they were almost all he'd eat for so long he didn't taste anything but the chocolate version for a week(and he dosen't even like that one)

Gayatri:Falalel because i headcanon as a (nonhijabi)indian muslim specifically and she also loves green tea,motichoor laddoo and shares Miles' love for strawberries

[healer-pop]

YOU!!! FIEND YOU!!! DONT think about how venture would whisper the *filthiest* of phrases in your ear,,, pressing a kiss to your neck before just walking off like they DIDNT JUST- ahem bonus points if its in spanish just *think* about that drawl in their voice,, ouhg :]c -feral

I CANTTT DO THIS — there’s not enough Venture content to sustain me 😭 I already linger in yt videos with their voicelines and the venture’s adventures one… it kills meeeee

i think about that one post about them pulling you aside in the middle of a teamfight to make out with you all the time. they’d feel so guilty about it, but so helpless at the same time. they can’t keep their hands off of you, trying to soak in any and all content with you that they could before they’d have to return. it would be so sloppy and rough, their desperation seeping through like the salty sweat on their skin. leaving your lips red and bruised, clothes disheveled, as if you two actually fucked, but they couldn’t bring themselves to actually go that far, no matter how much they wanted it. they had a mission to complete. but rutting against you? feeling the warmth of your own arousal against theirs? enough to tide them… for now. they’d wish they’d actually cum against your leg, or fingers, but it’d probably chafe really bad.

if anyone caught them, they’d probably claim to have needed extra special healing, they are a flanker after all. need to be in tip top shape to get those nasty incapacitations.

can see them being the nastiest flirt when no one is watching. pda is pretty wholesome when eyes are on you, but when they turn away? Venture is backing you into a darken corner of the base, whispering to you the small amount of Spanish they’ve taught you, about all the things they’re going to accomplish between your legs tonight. (“Mi lengua va a probar lo dulce que eres esta noche, cariño. No pararé hasta que ambos estemos satisfechos. Mis dedos quieren estar dentro de ti, ahora mismo. Pero esperaré hasta poder oírte gritar.”)*

it almost gives you whiplash when they pull away, and you wonder if they’re some sort of masochist because you know their own words and thoughts affect them just as badly as they do you. Venture accidentally edges themselves by thinking of you lol. definitely the type to become a bit more spacey when they’re in a relationship with you because you’re on their mind all the time. plays it off super well though! but horny them is another beast…

* — I’m going to taste how sweet you are with my tongue, tonight, darling. I’m not going to stop until we’re both satisfied. My fingers want to be inside you. But I’ll wait until I can hear you scream.

[reids-ruins]

[comes up beside him and wraps her arms around his waist, peeking up at him]

Are you going to be ready to go home soon, Reid?

[pretends to have just noticed the boy flirting with him and tilts her head]

Who's this? Your friend?

- Dulce

Hi baby.

[kisses her cheek]

Yeah, this is Jason. We have a few classes together.

Hey, who are you?