#touche amore live

[neuroticlens]

[snapjock]

JSJJDKDKDF MY BOYS REF IS FINISHED,,, ITS ME

[pucksandpower]

Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

[unwantedtomost]

so dirty — miguel o’hara

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 888

summary: miguel, who just so happens to be your dad’s best friend, fucks you in a bthroom

warnings: dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex (i’m back to my old ways)

a/n: hehe two in like a day? look at me go. send me requests because i need more ideas.

“We shouldn’t do this,” came out of your voice in a tired tone. You tried to fight it but it got harder every time. How could you fight something that felt so right?

“I know, amor.”

Then he kissed you and you stopped fighting. 

Things got dirtier every time he touched you. The first time he kissed you he was so soft, so delicate. He touched you like he thought you could fall apart in his hands. Now he was bending you over the bathroom sink with the whole neighborhood in the backyard—not to mention your father, his best friend. He still loved you all the same, you never doubted it for a moment. Something about the switch felt right. This was a dirty little secret, not a Romeo and Juliet love affair. It was meant to be dirty.

He used to kiss every inch of your naked body, muttering how much he loved you every time his lips left your skin. It was a harsh comparison to how he shoved your panties to the side and rubbed his rough fingers up and down your slit.

“You’re soaking,” he stated with pride. “This all for me, honey?”

“‘Course it is, Miguel.” Sometimes you try to be soft in times like this. He’d give you a small smile then it would leave. His eyes were hungry, you almost felt like prey.

“‘Course it is,” he repeated before bending you forward.

He spit on his hand, pumping himself a few times. He rubbed the head of his dick against your clit, causing you to shutter. So dirty.

“Beg for it.” Your brows knitted together, giving him a confused look in the mirror. “You heard me. Beg for it.”

“Give it to me,” you demanded, standing your ground.

His large chest was flush against your back, his chin grabbing your chin and making you look into his eyes. His lips brushed against your ear and his other hand gripped your hip like a vice. “I said beg. Or we’re going back downstairs right now.”

It wasn’t the worst threat in the world but at some point these little hookups became something you needed. He knew that. He felt the same way too.

“Please, Miguel,” you whined. “I love you so much. Need to feel ya inside me so badly. I promise to be such a good girl. I promise. I’ll be such a good girl.”

The tiniest smile came to his lips as he saw the tears lightly brewing in your eyes. God, how he loved you. He planted a sweet kiss on your temple. “Such a good girl, only for me, yeah?”

“Only for you.”

Suddenly, the head of his member entered your entrance. You gasped, causing his hand to clasp over your mouth. “Got to be quiet, amor, yeah? We can’t have anyone find out what a dirty little whore you are for me.” He quickly pushed the rest of his length inside of you. You screamed into the palm of his hand, gripping down on the countertop.

“Fuck, princess. Best damn pussy I’ve ever had. Such a good fucking girl.”

His thrusts were brutal and you loved every second of it. Something about the strange circumstances made something dormant in Miguel come out. He said the dirtiest things. His mouth sputtering whatever came to mind as he pounded into you like both of your lives depended on it.

“Letting me fuck you while half the neighborhood is in the backyard. You wanted me that bad. You’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you, honey? Want to be my little fuckdoll. Let me take you wherever I want. As long as we don’t get caught, right?”

You nodded vigorously as your eyes screwed shut, your head resting on Miguel’s shoulder. He let you stay like that for a while until his fingers started to rub your clit.

“Look at me,” he cooed. You had no choice but to pry your eyes open and look at the disheveled state of the man you were falling in love with. “Keep looking at me when I make you cum on my dick. Look so fucking beautiful.”

You had to use your last amount of strength to keep your eyes open, losing all control of the noises coming out of your mouth. Both of you were glad that his hand was clamped over your mouth. You tried to hold back your orgasm just a little bit, something you did often in these scenarios, you wanted to hold on just a little bit longer.

But it was always impossible. As soon as he figured out what you were doing, his fingers worked quicker.

“Please, cum for me baby,” he begged. And how could you refuse him? Quickly the coil snapped and you turned to absolute putty in his hands. “I love you, honey. I love you so much.” He whispered in your ear as he came inside of you. “Love you so fucking much.”

Slumped there, panting, you had that terrible wave of realization of the predicament you were in. Doomed to be in love with a man you could never really be with. Banished to a life of dirty secret hookups in bathrooms. But you didn’t need to worry about that now. Not when he was smiling at you.

“I love you too.” 

[musaslullaby]

Stupid joke

George Russell x fem reader

Summary: Mercedes and George want to play a prank on George's Italian girlfriend.

Warning: just fluff

Masterlist

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"Well, umm… Mercedes wants me dead today. You’ve just witnessed my last race," said George Russell, extremely serious, as he spoke to the small camera wedged between the books in the living room cabinet.

In the distance, a familiar laugh echoed. "Mate, don’t be so serious!" exclaimed Lewis Hamilton, in that light-hearted tone that only a teammate and friend could get away with.

"You ruined my moment," George replied with a mischievous smile, looking off-camera toward Lewis, who continued to chuckle. After one last laugh, George refocused on the camera, the smile slowly fading, replaced by a mock expression of worry.

"They forced me," said George, pointing an accusing finger at Lewis and a Mercedes technician, "to play a prank on my girlfriend, and it’s going to end very badly," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Now you’re exaggerating," Lewis responded, still laughing, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And you don’t know her well enough," George quickly retorted, giving Lewis a serious look.

"You're probably wondering what they’re making me do. For those who don’t know, my girlfriend is Italian, and these fantastic colleagues of mine," George continued, throwing an ironic smile at his friends.

"Thanks for the compliment," said one of the technicians, passing behind George.

"No problem. Anyway, I have to ruin her beloved food," George confessed in one breath, letting out a nervous giggle as he felt the anxiety about Yn's reaction growing.

After setting up all the hidden cameras around the house, the Mercedes team, along with Lewis—who had come only to enjoy his teammate’s nervousness—left, leaving George alone with his plan.

A few hours later, Yn returned home from work, tired but happy to see George. "Hi, amore" she said, hugging him affectionately as he was pulling the food out of the shopping bags.

"Guess what? We’re having Italian tonight," George announced with a smile, holding her close, trying to mask the nervousness that was gnawing at him.

They sat together on the couch, plates of warm carbonara in hand. Yn looked at him with affection and a hint of suspicion. "Are you sure you’re not trying to poison me?" she asked, laughing playfully.

"I promise, I didn’t even touch it," George replied with a playful smile, trying to hide the excitement for what he was about to do.

After a few bites of pasta, George furrowed his brow, pretending to be puzzled. "Something’s missing," he said, as if deeply reflecting.

"Yeah, maybe a bit of salt," Yn replied, focused on the carbonara, not paying attention as George got up to go to the kitchen.

When George returned with a bottle in hand, Yn’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t immediately recognize what was inside, but as soon as he started squeezing the contents onto the pasta, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, che cazzo stai facendo?" she yelled, snatching the ketchup out of his hands with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?"

"Come on, it’s not that bad," George replied, trying to downplay it, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. "You’re just overreacting."

"I swear, if you eat that, I’ll leave you," Yn threatened, her tone serious and loaded with a mix of anger and frustration.

But George, with a provocative smile, shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction. "Oh my God," Yn exclaimed, nervously standing up from the couch, incredulous. "You didn’t actually do that."

"It’s good. Want some?" George asked, lifting the fork towards her, his smile growing wider.

Yn stared at him, anger boiling inside her, but instead of responding, she grabbed the bottle of ketchup and sprayed the entire contents all over him.

George stood still for a moment, feeling the ketchup trickling down his face and soaking into his shirt. The cold impact of the sauce made him shiver, but what struck him the most was the expression in Yn’s eyes: a mix of disbelief, disappointment, and anger on the verge of exploding.

Raising his hands in surrender, George tried to calm her down. "Okay, okay, I was just joking!" he said, slowly approaching her.

Yn looked at him, confused, furrowing her brows as she tried to understand what was happening. George wrapped her in a tight hug, despite the sticky sauce.

"No, George!" Yn whimpered, feeling the ketchup transferring onto her clothes, but he burst out laughing. With a gesture of his hand, he pointed to the hidden camera.

Yn looked at it for a moment, and then, realizing everything, she burst into laughter. "You and the Mercedes guys are such jerks," she said, guessing that the Formula 1 team had a hand in the prank.

"So, do you forgive me?" George asked, making puppy eyes as he picked up the small camera, hoping for a happy ending.

"Yes," Yn replied with a smile. George, equally relieved, kissed her on the cheek, but she quickly added, with a more serious tone, "But my revenge is coming."

"Oh no," George murmured, pretending to be scared as he looked at the camera, knowing full well that with Yn, revenge could be sweet… or very spicy.

[chilisworld55]

back home | Carlos Sainz cs55

🌶️ warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pussy eating, fingering, hickeys

a/n: hey! i hope you like this! please feel free to send me any request, feedback or question or anything! i’m sorry if there is any mistake, i’ll try to improve🫶🏻

It was monday, you had a free day after working over the weekend which has you exhausted so you decided to be in pijamas all day (some shorts and an oversized shirt of your beloved boyfriend). Carlos and you were talking early in the morning, and he wasn’t coming home until wednesday.

You were aware of how demanding your boyfriend’s work is. There’s times in which he is so busy that he couldn’t even come back home in weeks and this was one of those times. He had two race weeks consecutively and unfortunately, you couldn’t go with him due to work.

You were alone at the living room, laid back on the couch while watching a series that you recently found on netflix but after a couple of episodes, your eyes couldn’t take it anymore and were slowly closing by themselves. Next thing, you were sound asleep.

In the middle of the night, you felt a pair of arms lifting you gently on the air, carrying you somewhere else and your eyes were wide open because you recognized who was it. “amor? what are you doing here?” you said as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, face buried against his chest and oh gosh how you missed him, that fresh but sweet scent, his warm touch, pretty much everything about him.

“hola mi amor, sorpresa!” hi my love, surprise! he whispered and planted a kiss on your forehead as he walks towards your shared bedroom. “las cosas que teníamos hasta el miércoles se cancelaron, entonces compré el primer vuelo a casa” the stuff we had scheduled until wednesday got canceled, so i got the first flight home

“i missed you so much… why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” you looked into his eyes as he placed you down on the middle of the bed, parting your legs a little to make room for himself.

“i wanted it to be a little surprise, cariño, and i missed you even more” he lowered himself so his body is on top of yours between your legs, head on your chest and arms wrapped around your waist.

You giggled and shook your head. “we’re not fighting about who misses who more, okay?”

Carlos ignored what you said as he took a moment to admire you and feel you, his hands slowly going under your his shirt, fingertips gently tracing over your soft skin. “te ves tan hermosa usando mi ropa” you look so beautiful wearing my clothes he mumbled and started leaving little kisses on your neck.

You blushed and were so sensitive since you haven’t had anything intimate in weeks so even the slightest touch could make you feel butterflies and who wouldn’t with this man?

“Carlos… aren’t you tired…? you’ve been so busy… ah-” you whimpered as he tugged on the gem of your shorts and let it slap back against your skin. then, he slowly lifted your shirt and his trace of kisses continued over your stomach.

“when it comes to you, i’m never tired” he whispered and you couldn’t help but moan, your legs spreading even more as your boyfriend kneeled on the edge of the bed, his lips now attached to the inside of your thighs.

“i couldn’t stand another day without you” he sucked a certain spot on your inner thigh that had you whimpering. “these weeks have been like torture…” he kissed the other thigh, wanting to give both the same amount of attention and wasted no time in leaving hickeys all over them.

“please… no more waiting… i’m right here, all yours” you pleaded, feeling how soaking wet you are getting under those shorts, throbbing for him already.

“are you desperate for me, cariño?” you nodded and he smirked as he tangled his fingers on the gem of your shorts and pulled them down, soon exposing your wet pussy. His fingers found their way to your cunt, using two of them to part your lips and a third one to collect the wetness and spread it all over. “ya veo que me estabas esperando, eh? sin bragas y toda mojadita” i see that you’ve waiting for me, huh? no underwear and all wet

Carlos licked his fingers and got closer to your pussy, giving a long lick to it, big hands grabbing both of your thighs, making sure to keep them apart, those light brown eyes looking up into your souls as he was eating you like a starved man. You were moaning so loudly, enjoying his tongue and your fingers pulling on your boyfriend’s hair each time his tongue brushed of your clit.

“joder, me vas a volver loco” shit, you’re gonna drive me crazy Carlos’ tongue was fucking your tight hole, his thumb tracing little circles on your sensitive bud, he was moaning against you and it sent little vibrations which made the sensation much better and intense.

“i’m cu- i’m cumming… carlos, por favor, don’t stop” please you moaned.

“córrete, córrete para mi, amor” cum, cum for me, love his lips pulled apart to speak but he was quick enough to push his fingers inside and hit all your sweet spots. Your boyfriend’s fingers could not compare to yours, they are much longer and thicker than your own so at this time, you were in cloud nine.

Your walls clenched so hard around his digits, the knot on your stomach tightened and Carlos kept talking dirty to you with that spanish accent that you love. That was when you came undone, creaming and moaning his name, not even caring if it was 3 am in the morning and the neighbors were sleeping.

“mierda…. espero y no pienses que he terminado contigo, cariño” shit… don’t think i’m done with you he slowly stood up with a clear bulge inside his pants, waiting to be taken care of.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake. 

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch. 

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets. 

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.” 

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him.  Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight. 

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper. 

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen. 

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips. 

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit. 

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.” 

“I said sit. down.” 

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch. 

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.” 

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago. 

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off. 

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt. 

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

-

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?” 

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter. 

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando. 

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good. 

[barcaatthemoon]

breed || alexia putellas x reader ||

your talk with alexia about starting a family takes a turn.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

you had never been attracted to anybody like you were alexia. everything the woman did drove you crazy. you thought that after a while, new things would stop giving you such a strong reaction. for a while, you had gotten used to how hot alexia was, and then you saw her and the baby.

it was the child of an old family friend, you remembered alexia explaining it to you. the baby was cute, but alexia looked so happy and natural playing with him. you knew that children flocked to your girlfriend, but you had never really thought about watching her with the kids.

"i don't want to give you up. i can't wait until you're bigger and can spend weekends with your tia ale," alexia said as she handed the baby back. it had been a torturous hour and a half watching her play with the baby. you had never seen alexia with such a deep look of longing before.

"i think we should talk." your heart was racing. alexia was quick to pull you into her lap before you could start pacing around the living room.

"then we can talk. tell me about what is on your mind. let me try to help you," alexia muttered as she pressed kisses all over the side of your face. she was careful not to give you too many, knowing that you needed a little affection to be forthcoming.

"i think that we should have a baby," you told her. alexia smiled as she turned your face towards her.

"say it again."

"i want us to have a baby together," you said. alexia leaned down and pressed a very excited and very sloppy kiss to your lips. you laughed into the second kiss, but by the fourth one both of your moods had shifted. the arousal that you had felt earlier in the day as you thought about alexia fucking a child into you.

"what else is on your mind, mi amor?" alexia's voice was low and sensual. she could tell by the flush on your cheeks that you wanted her just as badly. alexia could always tell with you, which was just one of the many reasons that alexia loved being with you. "what could you possibly be thinking about that could be turning you on like this?"

"i want you to fuck me, alexia. i want you to try and put a baby into me," you told her. alexia scooped you up into her arms and brought you back to the bedroom. you felt light as a feather as she tossed you onto the bed. alexia stripped herself of her clothes as she made her way over to her dresser. you thought that you knew what she was reaching for, but you had never seen the dildo that she turned around with. "what is that?"

"a surprise," alexia said. she pressed a couple of quick kisses to your lips. she wanted you to chase after her, and you were never one to refuse alexia something that she really wanted. you wanted more from her, and alexia rewarded your forwardness by giving you deeper kisses.

you were practically drunk from the taste of her on your tongue. your nerves were on the edge, and each brush of her skin against yours pulled some sort of reaction. alexia's favorites were always the little hitches of your breath or the whines when she did something you particularly liked.

"ale, please," you begged. she was teasing you, moving slower than what she really wanted to.

"you sound so pretty begging for me like that. i'm practically throbbing thinking about how you'll sound begging for my cum," alexia whispered in your ear. she grabbed onto your hips and helped you grind against her.

alexia was no stranger to touching you. she knew your body like the back of her hand. alexia had you dripping onto her fingers from the moment that she pushed your underwear to the side. they were ruined, and alexia would feel no qualms about tearing them in half when she was ready to push her cock inside of you.

alexia slid into you with ease. she had been deliberate in riling you up as much as she could without ruining the moment. alexia didn't want you to feel like you had to act out to get pleasure tonight. alexia wanted this to be just as good for you as it was going to be for her. the baby talk hadn't come as a surprise, but getting to break out her new toy was.

"you take my cock so well. i can't wait to see my cum dripping out of you," alexia told you. she held your body tightly against hers as she thrust into you. you were no stranger to being fucked from on top of alexia, it was one of her favorite positions. she loved to watch your body bounce as you rode her cock. alexia swore that just the sight of you riding her was enough to make her cum, but the friction from the way that you both moved was an added benefit.

"ale, fill me up, please," you begged her. you were getting close, each of alexia's thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge. you grabbed onto alexia's body and buried your face into the crook of her neck. you rocked your hips as you pushed yourself through your first orgasm.

"just a little more." alexia held your body against hers as she started to fuck you again. this time, she moved slower and deeper. each of her thrusts were intentional, hitting all of the spots inside of you that she knew would make you cum again.

the feeling as alexia pulled out of you was foreign. she looked smug as she stared in between your legs. you tried to sit up and get a look, but alexia blocked you. she swiped her fingers over your entrance and brought them up to show you what she had done.

"i can't get you pregnant, but i'll cum in you every night you let me," alexia told you. she quickly got herself out of the harness before laying back down with you. it wasn't ideal for you, but alexia cleaned you up with some wipes and gave you something to drink. all you wanted was to lay down and sleep off your post-sex brain haze, but alexia kept you awake until she had gone through her mental post-sex checklist.

[muffinpink02]

please share your unholy thoughts about that Alexia white top picture pls. don’t hold back. pls. pls.

Smut 18

My thoughts? 

Like how it would feel to run your thumbs over her perky nipples, while you straddle her lap? 

Smiling to yourself as she tries to hold back a throaty moan, but it still easily escapes her mouth. You know her nipples are sensitive, you know she loses her mind just by the simplest touch on the small, but very sensitive buds. 

Alexia's nipples are her kryptonite. 

The blonde can barely speak when you're touching them. You know she gets embarrassingly wet, when you’re anywhere near them. 

Biting them.

Sucking them.

Pinching them.

Flicking them.

Kissing them.

Clamping them.

You know she’s trying not to let it get to her as you gently pinch her flesh through the thin fabric, but her large hands squeezing your hips tell a different story. 

“Fuck!” She gasps into your mouth as you feel her nipples strain against the fabric, under the tips of your nimble fingers.

It was a blur really, she was only showing you what she was going to wear in the tunnel before the game. 

You took one look at her, then you were on her. 

Alexia’s nipples were also your kryptonite. 

You slipped your hands under the tiny vest, gliding your short nails against her hard stomach as you always did. Loving the way her hips rocked up into your core. 

Her moaning became loud. 

You trailed your kisses down to her neck, kissing the vein that lived on the left side of her throat. You didn’t know what it was about the body part that turned you on so much, maybe because it came out when she was nervous, or excited or angry, or the way it stained against her skin when she was above you, fucking you from an inch of your life.

Or they way it pulsated when you were your three fingers deep inside her, your lips wrapped around her clit, watching her head fling back as she came undone under your touch. But whatever it was, you had to have your mouth on it. 

You pussy throbbed as you felt the artery pump against your tongue, you couldn’t stop yourself as you sucked roughly on her flesh. You smiled wickedly at the way her breath quickened as she felt your tongue glide up her long vein, kissing her skin as you felt her pulse quicken against your lips. 

You push the fabric up, exposing the rose coloured buds. You slowly move your kisses down from her throat to her chest. You don’t wait around, you suck the left bud into your mouth, you can't help the groan that escapes your mouth as you feel the flesh against your tongue.

“Hmmm, please!” She begs as her eyes shut, a small cute frown creases between her brows. 

You’re not sure what she’s begging for, but you don’t stop, you swirl your tongue around the tight bud. You can feel the small bumps of her areole as you tease your tongue against her, it makes your mouth water. Your taste buds dribble like you have your favourite meal in your mouth. 

Your hand cups her other breast, squeezing it as you suckle the strained nipple in your warm mouth.Her hips are moving harder against you, it’s almost hard to keep yourself on her. Her moans become louder, she’s completely losing herself to you as her body thrusts below you. 

Alexia’s losing her wits. It’s so fucking cute and so fucking hot they way she whimpers, the way her hips are grinding hard into you, but you ignore the heat between your own legs. You just want to feel her, you want her just like this, at your complete mercy, it was the only time the girl lost all control.

You pull back, biting the flesh just hard enough to make her cry out. 

“Amor!” She squeaks, her hips never stop moving, one of her hands moves from your waist and into your hair, wanting to have some control, but it's pitiful really, she doesn't have any control right now. The normally composed, calm and collected blonde is an utter mess beneath you. Her small gasps and whimpers are flooding your brain, she almost sounds like she's going to come as her chest rises 

“You’re so desperate baby.” You whisper, blowing cold air to her wet swollen nipple.

She's withering under you, she can’t even think straight let alone compose a snarky reply to your comment. She is desperate, her body can't help but surrender to your touches. She tries to reply but it just comes out to a low grunt. She can feel her arousal ruining her underwear, becoming so uncomfortably wet as you break her apart.

You move to her other breast, you slowly glide your tongue over the perk, she tries to push you closer, but you don’t move. Instead you give the sensitive bud a gentle kiss, then spit on it. 

“Fuck, si, si. M'encanta, quan fas això, amor.” She gasps as her hips pick up a relentless pace. 

You chuckle against her spit covered nipple, taking it into your mouth, lathering and suckling on it like she was your lifeline. You're losing your own composure, Alexia’s hips are thrusting so hard, it makes you bite a little harder than you meant to, making the girl tug at your hair, but she only moans louder. 

You groan at the pain, but it only makes you suck harder. You're grinding your own hips into her now, you're like two excited teenages dry humping for the first time, both lost in the other's touch. The loud pleasured moans that drip from her mouth, the filthy sounds of you sucking and slurping at her flesh bounce off the walls.

“Bebé.” She groans as you graze your teeth against her, her bottom lip comes between her teeth as her breathing starts to pick up. You watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She looks so fucking good but surely she can’t be close?

No? She can't be? Not just from this? Those are the tell-tell signs that you know all too well. She's going to come. 

“You going to come for me baby?” You mumble with her nipple still in your mouth.

She nods, her hazel eyes finally catching yours. You take the opportunity to spit on her chest again, letting her see the way you clean her back up. 

“Merda!” Her head falls back, her vein pulsates against her skin as her hips brutally thrash against you. 

You suck and bite the rosy bud into your mouth, never taking your eyes off of the girl above you, your free hand rolling the other nipple between your fingers, just the way you know she likes, not too hard, not too soft. 

And she's coming undone.

“Fuck!” The girl lets out a deep moan as you keep her in your mouth, the hand in your hair pushes you against her chest, not wanting you to leave her and of course you don’t dare move. 

Alexia’s cunt throbs against nothing, it's almost painful the way her clit cries out for stimulation but still manages to let her body orgasm at the touch of her nipples being played with. 

“Oh déu meu, oh déu meu!” She breathes out as her climax rushes over her body. 

You keep suckling, gently letting your tongue sweep over her. The hand in your hair loosens as her hips come to a slow stop. You gently pull back, releasing her nipple with a loud wet pop of your swollen lips.

You smile proudly, watching as Alexia catches her breath. You can't believe you just made her come, you hadn't even slipped your hand between her legs. 

Her hazel eyes finally lock with yours, the moment of bliss finally starts to mix with a realisation of her very quick, very easy orgasm.

“I’m that good hmm?” You tease as you bring your lips to hers.

“Don’t tease me!” She whines between kisses.

There was no way you would ever let her live this down.

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! I love the concept of your bakery it’s literally so cool

do you think I could get chocolate cake & honey cruller with a side of espresso shot?!? with carlos sainz? tyy!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then hit up the bakery! we're always open! and thank you to this anon for a great suggestion! a little bit of size kink and some dirty talk, now that's what i'm talking about! i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talking, (slight) size kink, thigh fucking, sick fic

there was something about how vulnerable you looked when you ha d a cold. you poor thing, sick within the first week of summer break! how unfair! but, carlos wasn't going to shy away from his lover at her weakest.

so he followed you like a shadow most of the day in the house you shared. if you wanted to move from the bedroom to the living room, he'd grab your blankets and bring them to the couch. if you wanted to go to the kitchen to get some ginger tea, he was right behind you, making sure that you didn't have any problems.

he let you rest against him, or prop your feet up on his lap. and while he was being the perfect boyfriend, something deep was clawing inside of him. the sight of you so reliant on him, made his cock stir.

carlos wanted to fuck that sweet pussy of yours. it had been on his mind since he came home and found you bundled up on the couch. you had swapped from wearing his t-shirts to just a sports bra because the heat of the sickness was making you uncomfortable.

so very clearly he could see the lines of your body. the softness in your stomach and your cute breasts were on full display. he wanted to sink his teeth into you. it was painful for him.

it all came to a head when you were curled up in bed with him. he was on his phone. you shifted a little and made a small moaning noise. it struck a cord with him as you peeked out of the blankets.

"are you okay, mi amor?" he asked. as he looked down at you, trying to ignore the erection in his sweatpants.

you nodded, "yeah, you're looking a little flushed, honey." you reached out from your blanket nest and went to touch his face gently, "are you getting sick too?"

"no, no." he said, "i'm not sick. i just want to fuck you, mi amor." he admitted, "i know you're sick, but i want to feel you." he brushed hair out of your face. he knew that he couldn't keep secrets from you, it was impossible. he remembered the time that he had to keep your surprise party a secret and he felt like he was going to die.

you blinked up at him from your nest of blankets, you said, "i don't know if i can take it inside me right now."

he pulled the blankets away from the lower half of your face and said, "you don't have to do anything, beautiful. just lie there and i'll use your thighs. but, i need your permission." he rubbed your cheek, it felt warmed under his touch.

carlos was a sucker for consent, he was the type to think that the more consent the better. so even if he wanted it badly, he would stop himself if you said no.

you pulled the blankets from your body, exposing your almost bare chest and barely covered bottoms. your hair was a mess and you looked obviously sick. carlos wanted to bite his fist to keep himself together.

you looked at him before you coughed a little, "you can carlos." you said with a smile, "you didn't have to ask."

he took you by the face and kissed you on the nose, "no, no. i gotta ask, i need to know how sick you are. i never want to force myself onto you."

you smiled a little, "then feel free to use my thighs, carlos. i trust you. okay? i love you."

"i love you too." he said softly as he put you onto your stomach with your hips up. as much as he'd love to sink his cock into your pussy at the angle you were in, he had to be careful of you for now.

he got his cock out of his sweatpants, and then got your naked. in all fairness the lack of clothes felt nice on your hot body. he used his spit to lube up his cock before he spread your thighs a little with his to slip his cock between your soft flesh.

he felt a shudder run through him, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." you had been on his mind since he woke up, after he got you some medicine for your cold, he had thought about you neediness. it made him so painfully turned on.

you whined into the pillows as your back arched a little bit. you wanted him, but knew that it would all take too much out of you. you were supposed to be overcoming the cold, as badly as you wanted to be fucked by your loving boyfriend.

carlos loved he feeling of your soft thighs around his cock. not the most ideal position, but he'd take what he could get. he wanted to feel close to his precious girlfriend. he could feel the tingle of heat in his body as he moved against you.

you laid under him so pretty, your cute little moans between sneezes and coughs. it was so painfully cute. it was cute in a way that made carlos swear he saw stars as his achy cock leaked pre cum all over your soft thighs.

"i forget how small you are sometimes." he admitted, "you're so tiny compared to me. no wonder you need my help when you're sick. it just ravages you. need your big strong boyfriend to protect you, my love." he groaned as he continued to move.

you held onto the covers and let out a hearty cough before carlos leaned over you and kissed you on your flushed cheek. you croaked, "thank you, honey."

"of course, of course. you take such good care of me. i might as well take good care of you too. do everything in my power to make sure that you are safe."

you felt his love and moaned under his touch. you promised yourself when you were feeling less achy and sick, you'd get your own orgasm too. you knew that carlos would make sure that he got a few dozen out of you.

your thighs were so cute, so sweet around his cock. it was different than having regular sex with you. but it curbed an ache in his gut.

"shit, mi amor. that's it. your thighs feel so good." he panted as he moved against you. his hands still on your hips as he rubbed against your thighs. he knew he was getting close and picked up the pace to reach his climax.

his pre-cum was already making a huge mess on your body as he dragged his cock up against you. he panted how much he loved you until he felt the climax fully over take him. with a few heavy thrusts, he finished between your thighs.

"ah. carlos." you whimpered.

"i know, i know." he groaned as he got himself over that hill. cum spurted out all over your skin. he slowed down, his cum was stuck to your stomach and pussy. he pulled out and you got onto your stomach so it didn't even up all over the covers. even though a lot of it was dripped onto the sheets.

he got up and grabbed a towel to wipe you down. he admired your naked body and the steady rise and fall of your chest. his hands then grazed your soft skin and he went in to kiss you on the lips.

"how was that?" you asked.

he nodded, "perfect. god, you're so perfect. mi ángel. my little sick angel." he kissed you once more. he got his cock back into his sweatpants before he pressed his weight on top of you. his strong arms around you.

eventually it turned into spooning and his legs tangled up in yours. as he held you, he winced when you coughed violently. he kissed you on the neck and whispered a promise, "i'll take care of you, my love. anything you need, is yours."

you replied, feeling sleepy again, "i believe you, you've already done so much for me." you yawned and turned over in his arms to press your face into his chest.

he chuckled, "i only try to match what you do for me. now get some rest. i'll be here when you wake up." he kissed you once more, as a promise. you take care of him and he takes care of you, no matter what. <3

[beneathashadytree]

DEVOUT WORSHIPPER - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : suggestive at most (but not explicit), reader has lipstick applied but still gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Just for context, Sylus and the reader are living together but often go periods without seeing each other due to work🙏🏽 Also, let me know what you think of Sylus being portrayed as Italian/speaking Italian here! Hope you guys enjoy this after the gorgeous new update🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“You’re exquisite.”

Sylus’ soft mumble was not left unheard. In fact, it was impossible to not notice anything about him when he was this close; so close that they could see every blemish on his fair skin, and count every delicate eyelash that fluttered lazily with every slow, seductive blink of his eyes.

They’d never get enough of his eyes, would they?

Eyes the colors of the richest blood rubies; that bled passion and want so true it warmed them to their very core. Maybe they’d never admit that their flushed cheeks weren’t just because of his enamored compliments, but also as a natural reaction to looking into those eyes they could never resist.

“That so?” they hummed, voice smaller than they thought it would come out. Somehow, there was a sanctity to this moment that meant that only hushed whispers were to be spoken between them, even if they were all alone in the safety of their own home.

Sylus huffed out a laugh that was achingly tender, all parts adoration and worship—and yet there was that same arrogance in his eyes that spoke volumes of his sheer confidence in his words. No one believed what he said more than he did. “Mm. You’ll have to take my word, tesoro.”

How sweet it was to hear from him, the endearment lilting and the syllables curling almost intimately on his tongue. Even sweeter it was, when his finger reached out to smudge at the edges of blood-red lips like his own eyes, his touch almost reverent.

“Silver tongue,” they breathed out, their gaze dropping to his sinful lips, their corners raised in an affectionate half-smile he’d only ever bare to them. Just them. It was their sacred secret to stow away between their ribs. “You’re just trying to lure me into staying at home with you.”

“I can’t say that it would be a bad idea.” The faux innocence on his face as his eyes flickered to their parted lips was almost laughable. “The place would miss you, after all.”

No matter how much they tried to play coy, Sylus could always outfox them in that game of wits—but his desires were always spelled out on his face, and this time they threatened to consume them whole.

Arching their brow at him, they reached out to clasp their hand around his wrist, tugging it away from their lips and instead taking their sweet, sweet time to interlace their fingers in an old, almost-sensuous dance that they’d mastered together, completely in step with each other. “Just the place?” they asked, a challenge hidden between every word and the next.

Something dark oozed through his eyes; a flame sparking to life behind his false composed mask. It made them feel a little smug, knowing that he’d never be able to douse that fire; that he’d always want them so terribly.

“You love making things difficult, don’t you, sweetie?” His voice was a little more gruff now, a sharpness there that reminded them that he was at his wits’ end, and that his nerves were fraying every time he was in their presence—in only the best, most delicious ways possible. “No. Not just the place.” Thumb brushing against the back of their hand, he leaned in to whisper in their ear. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I can’t think of anything else that could convince me to stay,” they began to say as they toyed with the chain on his collar, “After all—”

Sylus pulled them onto his lap as he collapsed onto the bed, without even waiting for them to finish that sentence. It seemed that they’d worn out what little patience he’d had left, and he was too far gone in his amorous haze to comprehend a single word more.

“Mi dispiace,” he managed to say, though his chest heaved with the effort of restraint, and his irises were almost completely black as he stroked the small of their back with a practiced hand that had memorized every curve and expanse of skin. “I’ll come up with a better bargain next time. Now, I’m a little preoccupied with you.”

Well. Dinner could wait, they suppose.

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[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 21- Yandere!Miguel x Reader (Breeding/Lactation Kink)

(Requested by reader, also early update bc I'm playing Spiderman 2 all weekend)

        It was no lie to anyone that Miguel was a stressed man. His eyes packed more bags than someone did for travelling. You knew better than anyone the pent up tension that man carried. Miguel had the fate of the whole multiverse on his shoulders, plus his shitty Alchemax job. The man barely had time for sleep and himself. Even so, he always managed to find time for you. Miguel had to since he was your loving husband, after all.

        You were just a regular person, but you worked with Miguel at the Spider Society. You were the front desk receptionist. Your job was basically to turn people away who accidently entered the building. Apparently which happened a lot. It was an easy job and one where Miguel could keep his eyes on you at all times.

        You had been with Miguel for over two years. The man was head over heels in love with you. The moment he proposed you immediately said yes. You were happy to live a life with him. You shared his burdens and he with you. Miguel always said that you were his only stress reliever. Just seeing you each day made his tension melt away. He always joked about locking you away so no one but him saw you. It was cute.

        That and the hours of dumb fucking sex. Miguel had a breeding kink. He was always determined to fill you to the brim with his cum, always threatening to get you pregnant. It turned you on so much. Miguel would fuck you anywhere and everywhere. One time he was so horny that he was drilling your pussy right at your desk. He did not care if anyone walked in, just as long as he got to fill you. There have been says where you couldn't move because of how much he fucked you.

"Amor (love), what are you thinking about?" Miguel asked as he approached you from behind. You jumped,

"Miggy, I told you not to scare me!" You whined before hugging him, "I was just thinking about getting a new dress for our date night."

"Hm?" Miguel glanced at the website you were looking at, "But we're having that at home, amor." His eyes glowing bright red towards your exposed breasts,

"Awe, but Miggy, ca-W-Wait," You pouted softly as Miguel's hands already started to roam your body, "S-Someone almost walked in on us last time!"

"Then they'll know that you're mine." Miguel hissed lowly, sucking against your neck, "Nadie puede estar cerca de usted. (No one is allowed to be near you.)" 

        You trembled under his touch as Miguel already started to pump your pussy with his fingers. Miguel refused to teach you Spanish, saying something about him enjoying your confused expressions. When in reality, he did not want you to know about his dark secret. Placing you against the desk, Miguel inhaled to the sound of your moans. Those sweet, sweet cries, only for him. Miguel made sure that no one got to touch your body.

        When Miguel first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. He did everything in his power to keep other men away from you. He was Spiderman after all, what's an injury here or there? Miguel just pushed you in the right direction for him. Playing the perfect boyfriend until you were convinced that he was. You were so cute as you fell into his trap. Miguel had you all for himself and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

"Mírate, chupándome la polla tan bien. (Look at you, sucking my dick so well.)" He groaned as he started to pound your pussy from behind. "What is it that you want, baby? Tell me."

"N-Need you to fill me," Your moans were getting louder as he pressed you into the desk. Miguel brought your waist closer to his, making sure to hit you deep each time,

"Te he entrenado muy bien. Todo lo que quieres es que te derrame mi semen todos los días. Te doy mi hijo. (I've trained you so well. All you want is for me to pour my cum into you every day. Give you my child.)" He groaned lowly, giving you his first fill, "Gotta make a mami out of you, right?"

"Y-Yes!" You moaned out.

        Miguel licked his lips as he kept going. One was never enough. He needed to make sure you knew your place. He flipped you over, placing you in mating position. Your breasts were bouncing out of your top. Miguel licked his lips as he went to squeeze your breast. You let out a sharp gasp as a sudden release of tension was given to you. Miguel's eyes sparkled as your tender breasts started to lactate. Your adorable face screamed embarrassed while he chuckled,

"Don't look away," Miguel leaned down and started to suck against one of your breasts.

"H-Hah, M-Miggy...T-That-"

        You squirmed under Miguel, a new sensation burning throughout your body. Miguel was sucking against your breasts hungrily. You were reaching your orgasm and fast. Miguel felt you squeeze against his cock and continued his harsh pace. He switched to your other breast, wanting to share the love.

"Miguel!" You cried out, panting heavily after your orgasm. 

        Miguel released your abused nipples, watching your milk drip down your body. He pumped you a few more times with his dick, making sure to fill your womb. Once he was done, he fixed your attire and sat you back down in your seat,

"That was delicious, mi amor. We'll continue this later."

--------------

        It hadn't even been an hour since Miguel filled you that he was back. He caught you leaving the bathroom and proceeded to fuck you in the stall, giving you another few pumps of his cum, while enjoying your milk. You body was starting to grow sore and it was no where near time for you to go home. It was like Miguel was under a spell. He kept groping your breasts, wanting you to cum from just his touch. You weren't sure if you were going to last the day.

"I need more water," You sighed softly, feeling dehydrated.

        Right as you were about to stand, someone walked into the building. A young confused looking man approached you with what looked like a file in his hand. It was probably another lost interview candidate for the building behind the Spider Society. You told the young man that he was in the wrong building and when you went to stand, you fell. Your legs had given up on you from all of the rough sex Miguel gave you today.

"Are you-"

"Back off." Miguel hissed as he towered over the young man in his suit.

        The young man fled in terror. Miguel cussed under his breathe and went over to you. He grabbed your arm before lifting you into his arms. You knew he was mad. Miguel always hated it whenever any guy talked to you. He wouldn't even let you order food if it was a male cashier. He was so protective and jealous that you found it cute, but annoying sometimes.

'Sorry," You apologized as Miguel took you home, "I was going to get a water."

"Then let me know. I'll do that for you," He grumbled.

        You pouted towards his childish behavior. Once you arrived home, Miguel made sure you got hydrated. He took your pants off, massaging your legs to try and give them feeling again. His eyes trailed towards your pussy, seeing his cum still leaking out of you. A low growl escaped his lips as he pushed you against the bed. His suit disappearing before he started to stroke his dick,

"¿Por qué sigues desobedeciendome? ¿Ni siquiera puedes guardar mi semilla dentro de ti y dejas que otro hombre te hable? te voy a castigar amor. (Why do you keep disobeying me? You can't even keep my seed inside you and you let another man speak to you? I'm going to punish you, love)" He spat, shoving his dick inside your drenched pussy.

"M-Miguel! N-No more...It's too much," You whined. Miguel groped your breasts, giving them a good squeeze, "Hah~ Ah~"

"Voy a hacerte madre. Darte una muy buena razón para mantenerte alejado de los demás. ¿Tienes esperando en casa toda hinchada por mi culpa? (I'm going to make you a mother. Give you a damn good reason to stay away from others. Have you waiting at home all swollen because of me.)" He groaned, ravishing your cunt.

        Miguel ignored your cries as he took your nipple in his mouth. The warmth of your breast milk going down his throat. How could he ever let you leave the house again after this? Miguel needed to be stricter with you. Gripping your hips tightly, Miguel let out a grunt as he filled your womb once more. Your body arched, moaning out in pleasure. Despite your cries, your body always told Miguel what you wanted. You could never be too full.

"Are you learning your lesson?" Miguel asked, releasing your nipple for the other one. You shuddered in response, "I can't hear you,"

"Y-Yes, Miggy."

"And what is it you learned?"

"Mhm, I-I won't," You whined as he kept bullying his cock into you, "I-I'm yours. O-Only yours-"

"And?" Miguel rubbed your clit as he pounded you harder. You gasped, moaning louder,

"I-I'll do as you say. N-no talking to other men, a-and...ah...ah~ M-Migu-" You shook as you reached another orgasm. Miguel chuckled as he gave you another fill of him,

"Good girl,"

        Picking you up as he finished, Miguel carried you to the bathroom. He sat you between his legs in the bathtub, messaging your breasts. His whispers about how sexy you were made your brain foggy. Miguel loved the fact that you were lactating for him. His hands kept wandering all over your body, marking you as his.

------------

        You ended up working from home afterwards. Miguel said it was for your protection. You were so madly in love with him and blinded by his true nature that you obeyed him. Miguel always rewarded your obedience. You were his good girl. He made sure you got what you wanted as long as it did not involve leaving the house without him. Miguel made sure that you were always with him everywhere else. If you even stepped out for mail without him, he would punish you.

"Now, what is it that you did wrong?" Miguel asked as he pounded you from behind harshly. You gripped the bedsheets, sobbing from the overstimulation he was giving you,

"M...Ma..." He had made you cum so many times you lost count. You could barely form a word.

"Can't understand you when you're so fucked out and full of me," He said with a smirk, "Oh? You're lactating even more...I wonder if this means I succeeded." He hummed lowly. You moaned loudly as he went to fill you again,

"Mig....s'much....mhm..."

        Miguel lifted you up as he gave you one last load. He turned you around, holding your waist up so nothing would spill out of your pussy. He licked your breasts, enjoying the lewd expression on your face. You learned your lesson alright. You were never going to disobey him again. You were his good girl. Miguel smiled as he rubbed your belly,

"You're going to be a mami, amor. I'll have to reward you later,"

"Mhm,"

        You just laid against the bed, slowly falling asleep from exhaustion. You were happy and contempt with your life with Miguel. Even if it meant losing your freedom to him. Miguel could have never been happier, especially after finally breeding you. And he wasn't going to stop after just one. You were stuck with him forever.

[megalony]

We'll Sort This

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine for you all, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When Eddie's ex wife walks back into his life, it causes an argument with (Y/n) that stresses her into labour.

Enjoy.

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Tilting her head to one side, (Y/n) narrowed her eyes and leaned against the car door.

There was a different car in the drive. When she left this morning to go and see Maddie, that car hadn't been there. She knew Eddie was home, his jeep was still in front of the garage meaning he hadn't gone out anywhere on his day off today.

But the blood red Ford car parked up the drive was new, (Y/n) hadn't seen it before and she couldn't think who it belonged to. Who was at their home? Had one of their friends gotten a new car and (Y/n) didn't know about it? Eddie never mentioned someone stopping by this afternoon to see them.

She hooked her bag on her shoulder, locked her car and headed up the drive. Her hand tightened around the bag on her shoulder and she slowly headed to the door.

She headed inside, nudging the door shut quietly behind her while her eyes scanned around the hallway. (Y/n) took the time to hang up her bag and take her shoes off with a bit of a struggle, balancing on one foot wasn't her speciality with a protruding baby bump in the way.

The soles of her feet were aching when she padded across the laminate floor, aiming for the living room where she could hear her husband's voice.

"Eddie…" She trailed off, unsure what to say when she headed into the living room and her sights set on the two people in there.

(Y/n) didn't know the woman sat next to Eddie.

She had long flowing brown hair and a fringe that was long enough to cover her brows and almost curve right into her eyesight. Her hair settled nicely across her shoulders in long chocolate waves like a river and her eyes matched the colour of her hair. But there was something almost scrutinising behind her eyes that set (Y/n) on edge.

And she wasn't too sure about the woman's smile either. It was a tight smile, as if smiling any wider or relaxing any further would cause her face to crack.

Her long flowing dress reached her ankles and hung loosely off her knees that were pressed together while she sat a little too restrained and tense.

Her back was straight, her legs were bent at an angle with one hand gripping her knee, but it was her other hand on Eddie's thigh that made (Y/n) very uneasy. They were sat on the sofa, close enough that their knees were touching and if it weren't for the somewhat angry expression on Eddie's face, (Y/n) would have thought they looked too cosy.

"Hi… who's this?" (Y/n) did her best to smile and she gripped the back of the armchair so she had something to lean against. She shifted forward and moved her left hand to cradle her stomach that was hidden behind the back of the chair.

"Mi amor, this is Shannon." Eddie sat up straight, clicking his spine into place while his hands moved to run up and down his knees.

He watched his wife's smile fade into a grimace and something cold washed over her eyes which made him wince. He hadn't ever dreamed of introducing his wife to his ex and he didn't think he would ever have to go through this ordeal, but today he sat corrected.

Something sharp clawed at (Y/n)'s chest and made her stomach squeeze uncomfortably when realisation set in.

This was Eddie's ex-wife. This was Chris's mum. This was the person Eddie hadn't seen in four years, even when he got divorced, he never saw Shannon face to face. All of that had been done through the divorce lawyers, without fuss, without contempt.

(Y/n) never thought she would get to meet Shannon, and a big part of her wasn't happy to meet her either. This was the woman who had so easily walked out on both boys. She left Eddie and walked away from Chris without looking back. And (Y/n) was an understanding person. She could sympathise and agree and understand a lot of different perspectives.

She could understand that Shannon needed a break. She needed to be with her family, she was at her breaking point. All of that was understandable, but walking away and never looking back was unfathomable. How she could leave without saying goodbye. How she could go every Christmas and birthday and not send a card. How she could so easily turn a blind eye and not have the decency to call and ask how Chris was. That was something (Y/n) couldn't come to grips with.

She had come to think of Chris as her own son and even the notion of going one day without knowing how he was made (Y/n) feel paranoid and sick to her stomach.

Shannon left four years ago and she didn't look back. She cut all the ties and connections she had with them and left Eddie to explain and pick up the pieces. She left Eddie to try and tell Chris that it was nothing Chris had done that made his mother leave.

"Hm." (Y/n)'s lips rolled together and she rose one brow, looking very unamused at the other woman in her home who shouldn't be here.

"Is this your girlfriend?" Shannon leaned closer to Eddie to whisper to him, but (Y/n) heard her nonetheless and it made her stomach churn.

Eddie hadn't said he remarried? Had Shannon not noticed the wedding band still on his finger even though the pair of them were three years divorced? Did she think he was wearing his old wedding band from his first marriage? That it was some sort of keepsake he couldn't bring himself to remove yet.

"I'm his wife."

Her tone was firm and her expression was cold. She wasn't in the mood for playing games and she didn't want this woman in her home. It was a good job Chris was at school right now so he wouldn't have to see or deal with this mess. He was finally in a good place, he was happy and fulfilled and loved, he didn't need any drama upsetting him right now.

How would Chris take this if he found his mother on the doorstep? He would think this was a sign that she was coming back to him. And if she left again, (Y/n) and Eddie would have to deal with the aftermath. They couldn't let him get hurt a second time. They couldn't take that risk.

She could see the anger that swirled in Shannon's eyes and the resentment that was plastered across her face when her upper lip curled and she was at the point of baring her teeth. She straightened on the sofa and looked between (Y/n) and Eddie like she didn't believe what she was hearing.

"You- you remarried?" Her lips fluttered as if she was about to smile in disbelief before she looked down at her hands on her lap which started to fiddle and mess with the many rings cluttering her fingers. "That's why you wanted the divorce."

Did Shannon believe Eddie would never get into another serious relationship with someone else? Did she think he was wrong for finding love again and marrying (Y/n)?

It wasn't as if Shannon had left a few months ago and Eddie had quickly moved onto (Y/n). It had been four years since they split up, not four months.

"Why are you here?"

(Y/n) wasn't one to beat around the bush and she saw no reason to play nice, not when Shannon didn't deserve it. She had no reason to be in (Y/n) and Eddie's home right now, not after four years of nothing. Whatever reason she had to be here wasn't going to be enough and (Y/n) didn't want to deal with her. She didn't feel well enough to handle this mess.

Shannon scoffed. Clearly, that wasn't the welcome she was looking for, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what she had expected after ghosting them for years and then suddenly appearing out of the blue.

"I wanted to talk, about Chris."

It was (Y/n)'s turn to scoff. She leaned further against the back of the chair and turned her attention to Eddie. Why was he just sitting there? Why had he even let her in to begin with? What did he think was going to happen, what was he trying to do?

"Yeah, well you're four years too late for that. Why did you even let her in?" Her words clearly antagonised Shannon because she got up from the sofa like she was about to start a fight.

But Shannon didn't move very far. She stayed stood in front of the sofa, dangerously close to Eddie which made (Y/n) feel like going over there and dragging Shannon out by her highlighted hair. She was bad news. She was a danger because she messed with everyone's emotions and she didn't seem to care what damage she left in her wake.

(Y/n) stepped round from the back of the chair and moved to stand at the end of the sofa next to Eddie who got to his feet, anticipating some sort of brawl breaking out.

His hand found (Y/n)'s hip and he took a step closer to his wife when Shannon suddenly couldn't look anywhere but at (Y/n)'s stomach.

Eddie hadn't said they were married, and he hadn't said they were expecting a baby either. It was none of Shannon's business and she didn't need to know, but now she did, and she didn't look impressed.

Eddie was moving on with his life, without her. He had found someone he loved more than life itself, someone who understood him and brought out the best in him and didn't try to change him or mould him into something he wasn't. He loved (Y/n) and she had taken Chris on as her own, and now they were having a baby together. Everything was falling into place.

"You- you're having a baby?"

When Shannon leaned forward, Eddie twisted be in between both women. He kept (Y/n) behind him with his arm behind him around her waist. He didn't think Shannon would lunge and start a fight, but he didn't trust her. She could be spiteful when she wanted to be and the last thing Eddie needed was an argument between his wife and his ex.

He could feel (Y/n) shaking already and the way she clung to his arm told him she was getting nervous. She was eight months pregnant, she didn't need Shannon stressing her out like this.

"What does Chris think about this?" Shannon's arms folded over her chest and dug into her waist like she was trying to comfort herself. Her lips were close to wavering and her nails were scratching up and down her exposed arms as her eyes bore into Eddie.

Once upon a time, she had imagined a big family with Eddie. He came from a large family, a lot of aunts and uncles and three younger sisters, family was something he held dear to him. Ideals changed when Eddie went for another tour in the army and Chris got his diagnosis.

She thought Eddie wouldn't have any more kids after Chris, the same way that Shannon wasn't going to have anymore kids either. It never occured to her that Eddie divorced her with the intention of marrying someone else or that he would start another family. Part of her felt betrayed, he was doing all of the things they had once done together, with someone else. She knew she had no right to feel this way, but seeing Eddie moving on without her was harder than she ever imagined.

"He's the happiest I've ever seen him."

Eddie's words broke Shannon's expression and had (Y/n) squeezing his arm. If it had been (Y/n) that said that, it would come out one sided and rather biased because (Y/n) hadn't been there for the first four years of Chris's life. But for Eddie to say that, it meant the world.

Tears could be seen glossing over Shannon's eyes and she folded her arms over her chest and tutted, shaking her head. Her hand moved to drag along her jaw as a cynical smile fluttered across her face.

"I think it's time you left." Eddie gave (Y/n)'s hip another squeeze but he snapped his head to see what she was doing when she let go of him.

He watched her disappear into the kitchen and fought off the urge to rush after her. He had to see Shannon out and make sure she left before he went to continue this conversation with his wife.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and tilted her head down when she heard the front door slam.

Her hands began to shake when she flicked the kettle on and she could barely keep hold of her mug when she got it out the cupboard and tried to make herself a cup of tea.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) braced one hand on the counter and moved the other to her stomach. All the adrenaline and confusion had woken the baby and now (Y/n) was starting to feel sick. She slid her hand beneath her shirt and tried pressing the heel of her hand into her abdomen in slow patterns back and forth to see if it helped make her feel any better or settle the baby.

A dull ache started to thud in her lower back between her hips and (Y/n) smothered a groan, forcing herself to open her eyes and focus when the kettle boiled.

"Mi amor, are you okay?"

(Y/n) nodded and pushed up so she was stood straight again, keeping her eyes focused on pouring herself a drink with her back to Eddie when he walked into the kitchen.

His hand moved to her lower back but she shrugged him off and stepped to the side.

"Why did you let her in? What was she even doing here out of the blue like that?"

When her drink was finished, (Y/n) twisted round and backed up into the corner of the counter. She leaned her back against the smooth edge, hoping that leaning against it would click her spine into place and rid her of the ache in her back. She slouched back and cradled her scolding cup between her palms while she looked across at her husband.

He had one hand on his hip and the other scratching the back of his neck in that usual manner of his when he was uneasy about something.

(Y/n) had looked rude and uncaring back there practically kicking Shannon out and asking why she was even here. But Eddie should have been the one to be brisk and abrupt with her. He shouldn't have let her into their home in the first place, she couldn't stop by unannounced after four years and expect to be let inside and be allowed to smooth things over. And she certainly couldn't expect to see Chris after all this time. It wasn't fair, that wasn't how things worked.

"She knew our address from the divorce proceedings… I don't know why she suddenly came back into town, but she got here last week and she stopped by-"

"Wait, she came by last week?" (Y/n) set her cup down and moved both hands to grip the counter behind her. She could feel herself turning rigid as shockwaves coursed through her blood.

Shannon had been by the house last week? Surely Chris didn't know anything about this, he would of been on edge and he would have spoken to (Y/n) or confined himself to his room if he knew his mum was back in town. He had been perfectly fine this week so (Y/n) knew he didn't know anything about this.

"I was leaving for work, so we didn't actually talk. I told her to leave. She rang me the next day but I couldn't face talking to her… when she stopped by today, I thought I'd better let her in. I can't keep turning her away if she keeps stopping by."

Eddie kept his hand gripping the back of his neck while his foot started to tap against the tiled floor. His nails scratched into the skin until he was pinching himself and on the brink of drawing blood beneath his thin but relatively sharp nails.

Maybe he should have started the conversation off better than that rather than dropping himself right in the shit.

He had been stunned to the point of passing out last week when Shannon turned up. He had been in his work uniform about ready to walk out the door when she appeared. Eddie ushered her away from the doorstep and harshly told her to leave and that he was busy.

Then she rang him. He didn't know what to say or how to act or what to do so he hung up and refused to answer or text her. Eddie tried to bury his head in the sand and ignore that Shannon was back in town. He thought if he acted oblivious enough, she might just take the hint and leave him and his family alone. Seeing her turn up today proved she wasn't going to disappear like he hoped.

And Eddie thought he'd better let her in than keep ushering her away, at least this way he could find out what she wanted and talk properly and tell her to stop coming round.

"And you didn't think I needed to know this?" Her nails began to tap out a frantic rhythm against the counter as she tried to stay calm, but Eddie was making that very hard indeed.

She lifted her chin to look up at her husband who took a step closer like he was trying to close the distance between them and the argument that was about to start.

"She just wanted to talk."

His voice was so passive and calm that it made (Y/n) boil over with rage. How could Eddie be so calm and easy going about this? Then again, he did have a week to think and mull this over and panic about this. (Y/n) was only just finding all of this out today. Eddie had been stewing on this for a week without telling her.

She had the right to know that his ex wife was trying to get back into the picture and worm her way back into Chris's life where she didn't belong anymore.

"I'm sure she did. Four years is a long time to catch up on Eddie."

"I didn't know she would stop by today-"

"No, but you knew she was in town and you still didn't tell me. What's the plan here, Eddie, what was she asking about Chris?" Her temper was flaring and rising inside of her like a volcano starting to bubble over.

This wasn't right. Shannon couldn't rock up after four years and think she could stirr everything up without a fight or think that they would all be fine with her hustling in like this. What did she think was going to happen? After four years she could go back to parenting Chris and looking after him and taking him out? Did she really believe she was capable of doing that or that Chris would even want her back in his life in the meantime?

A twinge tore through (Y/n)'s abdomen and she cringed, gripping the counter tighter until it was cutting into her palms and leaving lagged indents in her skin. Her back clicked in place when she pushed up straighter and shifted her weight onto her heels that were scraping against the floor.

This whole mess was stressing her and the baby out but (Y/n) couldn't just walk away and leave everything unanswered and sit in a panic. She had to know what was happening and what Eddie was planning on doing about this.

"She wants to see Chris."

"No."

Her tone was firm and her lips pressed into a thin line which made Eddie sigh and tilt his head back to look at the ceiling as if he expected God to give him the answers here.

"(Y/n), it's not that simple and you know that." Both hands moved to his hips which cocked out to one side while his lips straightened. "Dios, she's his mum I can't just say no and tell her to leave." He waved one hand at his side before he clamped his fingers back down on his hips.

He was really doing this. He was really going to back down and let Shannon walk all over them and dictate what was happening here.

"Fine." (Y/n) pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying, but she could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes creating a sting in her nose.

She turned on her heels, pushing her weight off the counter and back onto her legs that were close to buckling beneath her. She took a sip of her tea that now tasted bitter on her tongue before she turned and started to walk away. She wasn't going to stand here and argue. Eddie had made up his mind without even consulting with (Y/n) on this. He didn't need her for these decisions so he could have this argument by himself too.

Her left hand trailed along the counter while her right hand pushed into the lower side of her abdomen like she was trying to give the baby a nudge to make them shift. They were pressing down on her hips and it was painful.

She didn't get far past Eddie before his hand curled around her upper arm, but a deep growl left his lips when (Y/n) yanked her arm out of his grip and carried on walking.

"Get off me Eddie."

She wasn't sure where she was trying to go. Sitting down didn't feel like a good move in case Eddie sat with her and she couldn't make a quick exit from this argument. And (Y/n) wasn't sure she'd be able to get up if she sat down. Shannon had been in the living room too; going in there now might just add fuel to the fire.

Her direction changed and she aimed for the dining room, clamping both hands down on the back of one of the chairs. Her weight pushed down on her arms and her knuckles almost burst through her skin with how tightly she gripped the wooden back.

"Baby, please don't do that."

"Do what?" Her eyes closed and her head remained downcast while her elbows locked to stop herself from shaking.

"Walk away. Come on, we need to talk." Eddie tried again to reach out for her but (Y/n) shook him off which only made him huff and slam his hand down into the nearest chair to push it away. He wanted to talk and he wanted to be close, he didn't want (Y/n) pulling away from him and not accepting his touch like this.

"Talk? Okay, let's talk. Let's talk about how I've spent the last four years stepping into Shannon's shoes and raising her son for her because she couldn't be bothered. Let's talk about all the fucking effort it's taken to get Chris to trust me and understand that I won't walk out on him like she did. And now suddenly she's back and you're actually considering letting her see him."

Venom seeped into her tone and her head snapped to the right to look at Eddie as her nose crinkled and her arms started to shake again.

He couldn't do this to them. He couldn't consider doing this and think it was his choice to make. (Y/n) was his wife, she had stepped into the role of Chris's mother so she had a say in this too, and so did Chris.

They couldn't let Shannon mess him up again. Not when Chris had been worried for so long that if he got close to (Y/n), she might walk out on him and never come back. He had accepted the fact that Shannon was no longer in his life by her own means and choices, but he had (Y/n) now and a baby brother or sister on the way. He knew this family was cemented and happy and not going anywhere.

Bringing Shannon back was only going to rock the foundations and cause problems they didn't need right now. They didn't need any of this when they had a baby on the way.

"You think I don't know that? You think I want her here? She left me, (Y/n). She walked away from me and Chris and I had no fucking clue if she thought she was coming back or if she ever wanted to see us again. I don't want her back in our lives, but I don't know if I have a choice."

"What does that mean?"

"She's his mother, she still has rights. I don't wanna tell her to stay away and then get done for keeping him from her, I don't know if she might try and pull a stunt like that."

(Y/n) let herself twist to the side so they were facing each other again, but she could feel shivers coursing up and down her blood. Her skin felt cold but her body was overheating and sweating and her throat was drying up.

"What rights, she gave them up when she left. When they ask where she's been for the last four years, that's it, she's got no leg to stand on. No calls, no letters or texts, no contact. Those rights have been cancelled."

(Y/n) felt like slamming her foot down in a tantrum to get Eddie to see this from her eyes. She was looking out for Chris. Seeing Shannon was only going to upset and confuse him. What if she didn't stick around? What if they let her back in and she left again? How broken would that make Chris feel? How could they piece him together after that?

"Eddie, he's in a great place. We're having a baby. She can't come in and wreck it for him… I can't deal with a new baby and taking Chris to visitations with Shannon and calm him down if she doesn't show up when she eventually walks away again. Okay? I can't do that to him, to us."

Her hand slid down to cradle the side of her stomach and both legs twinged and shook when a searing spasm pulsed through her abdomen.

(Y/n) couldn't deal with the fallout. She couldn't hold Eddie together and shield Chris and look after a newborn all at the same time. He couldn't let Shannon walk in and leave chaos in her wake, not a second time.

"What if this is the last chance he has of talking to her? What if I say no, and five or ten years down the line, he can't remember the last thing he said to her, or if he wants answers from her that I can't give him?"

Was it selfish of (Y/n) to say that she didn't care?

Why should any of them care what Shannon's last words to Chris were or when the last time she saw him was? Why should they care when she walked away from them? She hadn't been snatched or died or taken too soon. She chose to leave, she didn't get to have it both ways and leave and come back whenever she wanted.

She left of her own accord and she didn't check in with them, she didn't ask how her son was, if he was okay, what was happening in his life. Nothing. Therefore she didn't deserve anything in return.

"Chris has always worried that I will walk out on the pair of you just like she did. If you let that woman back into his life, into our lives, you're cementing that for him. You're telling Chris people can walk out on him and forget about him and it doesn't matter because eventually, they might just bother to come back."

"No, no (Y/n) that's not what I'm trying to do don't twist this-"

"It's the truth." (Y/n) pushed the chair so forcefully it slammed into the dining table and made an echo dance around the room.

Her jaw locked and she could feel her lungs giving out when Eddie spun on his heels and rammed his fist into the wall. It wasn't enough to dent the plaster like he had done before, thankfully, but it was enough to make (Y/n) jump back and bash the side of her knee into the leg of the chair she was leaning on.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn't stop them from spilling down her face when Eddie stormed into the kitchen.

Her hand tightened around the chair while her other hand cradled her stomach that suddenly felt like it had dropped down towards her feet. She couldn't help but close her eyes as tears streamed down her face and her body doubled forward like she was a spring coiling back down.

She could hear Eddie either whack or kick one of the cupboards and a few Spanish cursives slipped out into the air, making (Y/n) cringe.

She twisted to the right, trying to gather enough strength to stand up properly again and aim for the hall. She couldn't just stand here in he dining room like a statue all afternoon. She needed to go calm down and the bedroom seemed the best place to be if Eddie was going to storm around the house for a while. (Y/n) didn't feel well, she needed to sit down.

It took all the strength she had left to push off the chair and try to shuffle towards the door and (Y/n) found she couldn't stand upright without leaning against something. Standing up straight hurt her stomach and her lower back too much. Her body slumped to the right, reaching out for the wall to hold her up as her fingers clenched into her stomach and her knees buckled.

A broken sound tumbled past her lips and she sniffed, trying to lift her head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Eddie… oh, you bastard."

"Really? What the Hell have I done now?" Both fists clenched against the door frame as he bent one knee forward and leaned down like he was trying to lower his height. He leaned over the threshold, dancing his raging eyes around the dining room until they landed on (Y/n).

He had no idea why she was calling him or what he was supposed to have done but his heart gave out a horrible thud against his ribs when he looked at his wife.

She was slouched into the wall, about to go down on her knees. Tears flushed down her face, barely breathing and one arm cradling her stomach which was a very bad sign.

"Shit- shit baby what's the matter?"

He pushed off the doorway and skidded across the floor to be in front of her. His arms were stretched out before he was even within reaching distance of her and once he was close enough, Eddie secured both arms around (Y/n)'s waist. His hands planted flat against her back and between her shoulders and he gently tugged her into him so he was holding her weight up for her.

He could feel her hands clenching in his shirt over his shoulders and she started shaking them like she was desperate to push him away but she knew if she did, she would fall down to her knees.

"Talk to me."

"I- my water b-broke."

Panic took over Eddie's system and had him on red alert. He glanced down between them, leaning his chest back just enough to get a better view and he realised she was right. Her waters had broken. She was in enough pain that it had to be contractions she was feeling.

They were at thirty-seven weeks now, labour could happen anytime now and Eddie had just induced it.

"Oh Dios, oh… mi amor I- I'm sorry. Let's sit you down." They were already near the doorway so Eddie tightened his arms around her and tried to get her to walk, or at least shuffle, towards the living room.

He stayed still when (Y/n) flopped her head against his chest, nudging the top of his collar bone with her temple. He could feel her nails scratching through his shirt but he paid it no mind as he tried to walk them towards the armchair.

A cry tumbled past her lips when Eddie eased her down into the armchair. Both hands moved to the armrests and she shuffled back, trying to get comfy but everything felt like it was on fire and she was starting to feel the need to throw up.

"T-this is your fault." She hissed, following Eddie through watering eyes as he crouched between her thighs which he parted to slot between them. His hands moved up and down her thighs and over her knees and he tilted his head down to kiss her stomach.

There was nothing but love and sorrow hiding within his eyes that were close to tears. He hadn't meant to upset her this much or stress her out and push her into labour, none of this was Eddie's intention. He shouldn't have argued. He should have walked away or tried to simmer down the conversation when he noticed (Y/n) becoming uncomfortable.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry. Are you okay?" It seemed like a silly question but it tumbled past his lips before he could think better of it. His eyes followed (Y/n)'s hands as she gripped his arm tight, but his brows knitted together in confusion when she held his other wrist and lifted his arm up.

"You should be timing the contractions," All the effort and the willpower faded out of (Y/n)'s voice, but the look on her face started to soften.

They had a plan. They had talked about when she would go into labour, Eddie was supposed to be on top of this and have it all figured out. He would time the contractions and get the bags ready. They would call Buck to see if he could look after Chris for them- if not, Eddie's Abuela was more than willing to have her favourite nephew over- and when they got down to ten minutes between contractions, they would go to the hospital.

"We've got a while yet, mi amor." He peppered a few more kisses to her skin before he leant his cheek against her stomach to look up at her. "Let me call Buck, see if he can have Chris tonight, and I'll talk to Bobby, get some help to stop her coming back. She won't come back again, we'll sort this out together, okay?"

(Y/n) let herself sink back in her seat, her eyes watching Eddie intently as his hands moved to grip her knees. He pushed up between her thighs and leaned over her until his abdomen was pressing into her stomach and one hand moved to cup her chin. His fingers pressed into her chin and his thumb swiped across her lower lip, searching her eyes for an answer or a sign that she was okay and calming down.

Once she managed to nod in his grip, Eddie's eyes softened and he dived forward to steal a kiss, feeling like he had been starved of her lips for weeks rather than just a few hours while she had been gone.

He kissed her like he was trying to pour all of his thoughts into her mind and kiss an apology into her lips. His tongue swiped across her lips and delved against hers, taking any air she had and breathing it back to her. And his lips curved into a burning hot grin when he felt (Y/n)'s hand move from his wrist to secure at the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

He would see if Buck could have Chris like they planned. He would get Chris from school soon and tell him the good news that they were having the baby. And he would call Bobby and see what he could do about sorting this mess with Shannon. She couldn't come back into their lives now and Eddie just needed some guidance and advice on what to do.

Bobby would know what to do. But Eddie would make sure this was sorted. He couldn't stress (Y/n) out again, he had already gone too far and pushed her into labour, Thank God she was near her due date and not going into early labour.

She was right. They were both in a great place together, Chris was the happiest he had ever been and they had a baby on the way who was going to be here a little sooner than expected.

Nothing was going to mess with their family.

[heartysworld]

No reservations, just love // CS55

Carlos Sainz x Reader

I love how this one turned out! I hope you like it as well!

W.C: 3k

MASTERLIST

You pace the spacious kitchen in your apartment, glancing worriedly at the clock. Sofia, your sweet seven-year-old niece, is curled up on the couch in the living room, her eyes glued to a cartoon, but her expression is distant. For the past week, since she came to stay with you and Carlos, she’s barely touched her food. The stress of her parents' messy divorce has taken a toll on her, and her refusal to eat is starting to worry you more with each passing day.

Carlos comes home, his usual bright energy tempered with concern as he notices the untouched plate of food on the counter.

"How is she?" he asks, placing his hands on your waist, pulling your body cloae to his.

"Still not eating," you reply, trying to keep the frustration and sadness out of your voice. "I’ve tried everything. I tried to take her out to the park, for ice cream, i got her some puzzlez, nothing.She just won’t budge."

Carlos looks over at Sofia, then back at you, a determined glint in his eyes. "Why don’t you take a break? Let me handle dinner tonight."

"You don’t have to—" you start, but he cuts you off with a gentle kiss.

"Trust me, amor. I’ve got this."

You sigh, nodding, and decide to take a much-needed shower. As the hot water washes over you, you can’t help but wonder what Carlos has planned. During the past week, Sofia's been your priority. You loved the little girl with your whole being, and seeing her like this broke your heart with each passing day.

When you return, feeling a bit more refreshed, you find Carlos kneeling beside Sofia on the couch.

"Hey, Sofia," he says softly. "How about we make something special together?"

Sofia glances at him, her wide eyes filled with curiosity but still tinged with sadness. She doesn’t respond, but Carlos doesn’t give up.

"I’m going to make a special dinner just for you. But I need your help. What do you say?" He extends his hand to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she takes it.

You watch from the doorway as Carlos leads her into the kitchen. He pulls out ingredients from the pantry and fridge, setting them on the counter with a flourish.

"We’re going to make my secret pasta recipe," he explains, his voice warm and engaging. "It’s super fun and delicious. I think you’ll love it."

Sofia looks at the ingredients, then back at Carlos, a tiny spark of interest in her eyes.

"First, we need to mix the flour and eggs," he says, handing her a small bowl. "Do you want to help me with that?"

She nods shyly, and you can’t help but smile as Carlos gently guides her through the steps. Flour gets everywhere, and Sofia giggles when a bit lands on Carlos's nose. You lean against the doorway, watching as Carlos kneads the dough, then lets Sofia help roll it out and cut it into shapes.

"See, it's like magic," Carlos says, showing her how the dough stretches and changes shape under their hands. "Do you know what we're making? Tagliatelle! It's a special kind of pasta."

Sofia's eyes light up a bit at the word 'magic,' and she starts to ask questions. "Why do we put flour on the table?"

"It helps the dough not to stick," Carlos explains, dusting some flour on her nose playfully. She giggles, wiping it off.

"Now for the sauce," he continues, moving to the stove. "Do you like tomatoes?"

Sofia nods.

"Perfect! We'll make a simple tomato sauce. You can help me stir."

They work together, side by side, and you marvel at how patient and kind Carlos is with her. It's a side of him that never fails to make you fall in love with him all over again.

"How about some basil?" Carlos asks, handing her a few leaves to tear. "It makes everything smell amazing."

Sofia inhales the fresh, peppery scent and smiles. "It smells like a garden," she says softly.

When the pasta is finally ready, Carlos sets the table, placing a small plate in front of Sofia.

"Ta-da! Chef Sofia's special pasta. Give it a try?"

Sofia looks at the plate, then back at Carlos. She hesitates but picks up her fork and takes a tentative bite. Her eyes widen, and a small smile creeps onto her face.

"It’s good," she whispers, taking another bite.

Carlos beams, his heart swelling with pride and relief. "I’m glad you like it."

You walk over and wrap your arms around Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thank you," you whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I don’t know how you did it, but thank you."

Carlos kisses the top of your head, his voice tender. "Anything for you, amor. And for Sofia."

Sofia watches the two of you, her fork paused mid-air. For a moment, the warmth and love between you and Carlos seem to wrap around her like a comforting blanket. She sees the way Carlos looks at you, the way you lean into him, and something in her finally starts to relax. She takes another bite, her shoulders loosening as she feels, maybe for the first time in a while, a sense of calm.

As the three of you sit at the table, Sofia starts to open up, talking about her favorite things and even giggling at some of Carlos's silly jokes. The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming lighter and filled with the sound of Sofia's laughter.

"Did you know that your aunt is the best cook ever?" Carlos teases, looking at you with a mischievous grin. "She taught me everything I know."

Sofia giggles, looking between the two of you. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Carlos confirms, his eyes twinkling. "And she makes the best desserts too. Maybe we can make something sweet together next time?"

Sofia's eyes brighten at the prospect, and you nod, smiling. "How about chocolate chip cookies?"

"Yes, please!" Sofia exclaims, her excitement palpable.

The evening continues with more laughter and light conversation. Sofia seems more at ease, her earlier sadness melting away in the warmth of your shared moment. After dinner, Carlos suggests a movie night, and the three of you snuggle up on the couch, Sofia nestled comfortably between you and Carlos.

As the movie plays, you glance over at Carlos, his hand resting gently on Sofia's shoulder, his other hand intertwined with yours. You lean in and whisper, "Thank you, Carlos. For everything."

He turns his head slightly, kissing your temple. "Anything for you, amor."

Sofia, half-asleep, catches the sweet exchange, and for the first time in a long while, she feels truly safe and loved. The bond between you and Carlos gives her a sense of security she's been missing, and it helps her to finally let go of some of her worries.

That night, as you tuck Sofia into bed, she hugs you tightly. "I love you, Aunt Y/N," she murmurs, her voice drowsy but content.

"I love you too, Sofia," you reply, kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

You walk back to the living room, where Carlos is cleaning up the kitchen. You join him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

"She’s finally asleep," you say softly.

Carlos turns in your embrace, cupping your face in his hands. "You did great, you know. She’s lucky to have you."

"We did great," you correct, smiling up at him.

Carlos kisses you deeply, and in that kiss, you feel the promise of many more moments like this, filled with love and warmth. In that moment, you know there are no reservations—just love.

The following weekend, you and Carlos decide to take Sofia to the local farmer's market. The sun is shining, and the vibrant colors of the fresh produce and flowers lift everyone's spirits. Sofia, holding both of your hands, looks around with wide eyes, her curiosity piqued.

As you browse the stalls, Carlos spots a stand selling freshly baked goods and points it out to Sofia. "Look, Sofia! They have chocolate chip cookies. Want to try making some at home?"

Her eyes light up, and she nods eagerly. You smile at Carlos, grateful for his ability to connect with her. You purchase the ingredients and a few treats, then head home with plans for a fun baking session.

Back at the apartment, the three of you gather in the kitchen. Carlos ties a small apron around Sofia, which makes her giggle. "Okay, Chef Sofia," he says with a grin. "Let's make the best cookies ever."

Sofia helps measure out the flour and sugar, carefully pouring them into the mixing bowl. You crack the eggs and add the vanilla, then hand her the whisk. As she stirs, Carlos adds the chocolate chips, stealing one to pop into his mouth, making Sofia laugh.

"You have to save some for the cookies!" she chides, her laughter filling the kitchen.

Carlos feigns innocence. "Oops, my bad."

With the dough ready, you help Sofia scoop it onto the baking sheet. As the cookies bake, the delicious aroma fills the apartment, and you can see Sofia's excitement building.

While waiting, Carlos suggests a game of charades. Sofia eagerly joins in, and soon, the living room is filled with laughter as you all try to guess each other's silly actions. When the timer goes off, signaling that the cookies are done, Sofia races to the kitchen, with you and Carlos following close behind.

Carlos carefully takes the tray out of the oven and sets it on the counter to cool. Sofia stands on her tiptoes, watching the cookies with anticipation.

"Almost ready," Carlos says, ruffling her hair.

Once the cookies are cool enough to eat, you each take one. Sofia takes a big bite and her face lights up. "These are the best cookies ever!" she declares.

Carlos grins and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I think it's because Chef Sofia helped."

That evening, as you sit together enjoying the cookies and watching Sofia's favorite movie, you feel a deep sense of contentment. Carlos pulls you closer, whispering in your ear, "You know, we make a pretty good team."

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. "We really do."

As the movie ends and you start cleaning up, Sofia curls up on the couch, looking sleepy but happy. She watches you and Carlos move around the kitchen, putting away the dishes and tidying up.

Just as you finish, Sofia's soft voice breaks the silence. "I love you, Aunt Y/N. I love you, Carlos."

Carlos freezes, his eyes widening in shock. He looks at you, then at Sofia, clearly moved by her words. He swallows hard, his voice thick with emotion. "I... I love you too, Sofia."

You can see the tears welling up in his eyes as he walks over to the couch and kneels beside her. He gently takes her hand, his voice shaking slightly. "You know, Sofia, you mean a lot to us. You've made our home so much brighter."

Sofia smiles sleepily, her eyes closing as she nestles into the cushions. "I'm happy here," she murmurs.

Carlos looks up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's happy," he whispers, as if he can't quite believe it.

You walk over and kneel beside him, wrapping your arms around both Carlos and Sofia. "We're all happy," you say softly. "Together."

Carlos pulls you both into a tight embrace, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your little family, he realizes just how much Sofia has come to mean to him. The bond you've all formed is something truly special, something he never wants to lose.

As the three of you sit there, wrapped in each other's arms, Carlos feels a deep sense of contentment wash over him. Despite the challenges, despite the uncertainties, you have all found something beautiful together. There are no reservations—just love, and a future filled with endless possibilities.

MASTERLIST

Feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

[pablitogavii]

Where the reader is just sitting there admiring gavi? ♥️

Staring

There he was sitting in the living room on his phone like a normal teenage boy..but I just couldn’t stop staring.

His profile seemed perfect, his arms getting bigger and bigger, and his strong chest always made the best pillow for me.

I took time to look at his lips, so pink and soft, remembering all the sweet kisses he gives me throughout the day. I really felt lucky..

He was watching something funny on TikTok and when smiled, I could see his dimples..I giggled to myself which grabbed his attention.

“Que te pasa??” He said looking at me and I blushed touching his hair as he leaned into my touch..he’s so cuddly.

“Im just looking at you amor..”I say seeing his cheeks blushing.

“You’re staring princess..” he said and I smiled nodding my head and kissing his face. Gosh I could kiss him all day!!

“Mhm..” I mumble while his strong arms brought me to sit onto his lap.

“Why are you staring at me huh? Do I have something on my face?” He said and I chuckle shaking my head no and pecking his lips lovingly.

“ You just have a handsome face mi amor.” I said laying my head on his chest while he held me there against him.

“Gracias princess” he said a little shy after the compliments but I didn’t mind to make him see how beautiful he is to me.

After a few moments while he was looking at the TV while holding me, I found myself looking up at him again.

“Amor stooop!” He said and you started laughing loudly which made him laugh and start ticking you.

“Im sorry mi niño..you just look..gosh I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend” I said and he smiled bright leaning down to kiss my lips.

One kiss after another and we needed up on our bed making out and pulling on each others clothes.

“Now it’s my turn to stare princess..” he said looking at me underneath him and I blush as his lips ended up on mine again..

Short but sweet 🥰