#and I just need someone to get a happy ending | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dontrllycaretbh · 7 hours ago

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Title: Mine to Know (pt.3)

Pairing: Paige bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: explicit sapphic content (18+), dom!Azzi, sub!Paige, Stalking, Obsession, Dubious Consent, Psychological Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Mutual degradation / humiliation kink, Invasive Monitoring, Voyeurism, Emotional Coercion, Explicit Sexual Language, Sexual Tension with Power Imbalance, Mild Violence/Threats, Boundary Violations, Toxic Dynamics, Masturbation, Dark Romance Themes, Azzi Likes It

Summary: Azzi and Paige are locked in a toxic, obsessive push-pull relationship. Jealousy and spite drive Paige to hook up with someone else to provoke Azzi, leading to vicious fights, manipulative texts, and an intense, messy confrontation where neither can let the other go.

Notes: i’m probably going to make a part 4 , make paige tease her some more and then make azzi crack

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It’s a normal practice afternoon in the gym.

Azzi is sitting up on the bleachers, idly scrolling her phone. She tells herself she’s not watching Paige. She’s just there.

Paige is stretching with the other cheerleaders, smirking and joking too loud. But Azzi catches her eye sometimes—just long enough to make them both look away.

They’re not speaking. Not today.

Paige has been in one of her “prove I don’t need you” moods. She didn’t try to corner Azzi before class, didn’t leave notes in her locker.

Azzi pretends she likes it. But she keeps checking her phone.

Then Emily shows up.

She’s new-ish. A transfer from the other side of the district. She’s cute, if you’re into it—bouncy hair, big eyes. Confident.

Azzi notices her watching Paige too much during warm-ups.

Paige, for her part, seems oblivious. Or so Azzi tells herself.

Until Emily walks over.

Azzi straightens slightly. She can’t hear them, but she sees it.

Emily tucks hair behind her ear, leaning in, smiling. She says something that makes Paige laugh. Paige actually laughs, that genuine ugly cackle she usually reserves for Azzi.

Azzi feels something clench in her chest.

Then Emily reaches out—just a casual hand on Paige’s arm. Paige doesn’t move away. She turns toward her, mouth curling.

Azzi’s nails dig into her palm.

She’s about to look away—to pretend she doesn’t care—when Paige tilts her head and lets Emily talk right in her ear.

Azzi can see Paige’s lips move in answer. Emily beams, practically bouncing.

Azzi is halfway off the bleachers before she stops herself.

She forces herself to sit back down.

Paige doesn’t even glance over.

Azzi’s phone screen goes dark. She realizes her thumb’s been hovering over Paige’s contact.

She puts the phone away, jaw locked.

When practice ends, Paige and Emily linger. Emily helps Paige gather her shit. Azzi can see it happening.

She makes herself leave first.

She doesn’t look back. But her heart is pounding so hard she can hear it.

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Later that night, Paige gets a text.

📱 Messages

9:04 PM

AZZI: “Who the fuck was that.”

Paige sees it while she’s showering. She doesn’t answer.

Another text comes in.

📱 Messages

9:15 PM

AZZI: “Answer me.”

Paige bites her lip so hard it almost bleeds.

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The next day, Paige shows up at school acting like nothing happened.

Azzi refuses to even look at her in the hall.

So Paige decides to be an asshole about it.

She deliberately finds Emily at lunch. She doesn’t even really like her. But she knows Azzi will see.

Emily is all too happy to flirt back. She leans against Paige’s shoulder, laughing too loud. Paige lets her.

Paige’s eyes flick over Emily’s shoulder once—to see Azzi standing by the vending machines, frozen.

Their eyes lock, Paige gives her the smallest smirk, Azzi’s eyes go black.

She turns on her heel and leaves.

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That night, Paige texts Azzi.

📱 Messages

12:20 AM

PAIGE: “You mad?”

Azzi doesn’t respond.

Paige sends another.

📱 Messages

12:23 AM

PAIGE: “Answer me, baby.”

Still nothing.

Paige glares at her phone, heart hammering.

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Two days later, Paige invites Emily over to “study.”

Paige doesn’t even hesitate.

She’s petty. She’s angry. She’s starving for Azzi’s attention.

Paige lets her in, acting sweet, but her stomach’s in knots.

Emily kisses her first. Paige kisses back.

But her mind is somewhere else.

Paige’s hand is in Emily’s hair, pulling just the way Azzi hates. Emily gasps. Paige’s pulse spikes.

But it’s wrong. It’s not Azzi’s stupid snarl, Azzi’s shaking fingers digging into her hips.

Still, she’s too stubborn to stop.

She lets Emily push her onto the bed. She lets her climb on top.

Paige closes her eyes and pretends it’s Azzi.

When it’s over, she’s shaking.

Emily rolls over, giggling, messy hair sticking up.

Paige hates it, but she still takes the picture.

It’s just their legs tangled. Paige’s hoodie half off. Emily’s thigh between hers.

She sends it to Azzi with no caption.

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Azzi sees it at 1 a.m.

Her heart stops.

She stares at the photo.

Her stomach twists so violently she thinks she might throw up.

Her vision goes red.

She can’t breathe.

She types, deletes, types again.

Finally she sends:

📱 Messages

1:12 AM:

AZZI : “If I ever see your disgusting face again outside of school I’ll call the fucking cops. You disgust me. Have fun with Emily.”

She blocks Paige immediately after.

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Paige stares at the screen for a long time.

Then she shoves Emily off the bed so hard Emily yelps.

“What the fuck, Paige?!”

Paige is already grabbing her clothes.

“Get out,” she snarls.

Emily blinks, confused and half-naked. “Paige—”

“I said get the fuck out!”

Emily grabs her stuff and runs.

Paige slumps back on the bed, shaking, tears blurring everything.

She can still feel Azzi’s last words like a knife in her gut.

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Paige doesn’t sleep.

After Emily flees, Paige sits on the edge of the bed shaking, breathing ragged.

She checks her phone obsessively. Azzi’s message is still there—but the block notification is too.

She tries calling. Straight to voicemail.

She tries texting anyway.

📱 Messages

2:01 AM

PAIGE: “Unblock me.”

PAIGE: “Answer me.”

PAIGE: “I swear to god unblock me.”

PAIGE: “I hate you so fucking much.”

PAIGE: “Please.”

PAIGE: “Please talk to me.”

PAIGE: “I’ll do anything.”

PAIGE: “Azzi.”

PAIGE: “Baby.”

PAIGE: “FUCK.”

She calls again. And again.

She paces her room so hard she stubs her toe and doesn’t even feel it.

She’s crying but it’s angry tears.

She’s not going to let Azzi do this to her, Not after everything.

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Around 2:45 a.m. she finally breaks.

She grabs her shoes and storms out of the house.

Her fingers are shaking so hard she drops her keys twice.

She doesn’t even bother being quiet leaving.

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By the time she’s outside Azzi’s window it’s almost 3:15.

She’s freezing, Her hair’s a mess. Her eyes are swollen.

She sees Azzi’s blinds closed—like they’ve never been closed before.

She stands there a moment, heart cracking.

Then she slams her hand against the siding under the window.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Azzi!” she hisses.

No answer.

She slaps it harder.

“Azzi, wake up!”

Still nothing.

Paige’s breath fogs in the cold air. Her teeth are chattering.

She draws in a huge lungful of air and screams.

“AZZI!”

Lights flicker on inside.

She sees movement behind the blinds.

“Open the window!” Paige demands.

No response.

Paige slams both hands against the siding.

“Open it or I’ll fucking scream so loud your mom wakes up!”

The blinds flutter. Azzi’s silhouette appears, tense and rigid.

Paige grins viciously.

“Yeah! That’s right! I’ll wake the whole neighborhood if you don’t talk to me!”

The window doesn’t open.

Paige tilts her head back and screams.

“AZZIIIIIII!”

The window flies up an inch. Then slams back down. Then opens again, rattling with how hard Azzi yanks it.

Azzi’s face appears, hair messy, eyes murderous.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.” she hisses.

Paige’s eyes glitter wetly.

“Let me in.”

“Go home.”

Paige laughs, deranged.

“I’ll scream again.”

Azzi’s jaw clenches.

“Do it. GOOD. My mom will know I have a stalker!”

Paige doesn’t even hesitate.

“Yeah? You want your mom to know you sat there and watched me jerk off for you, Azzi? You want her to know you liked it?”

Azzi goes still.

Her lips part soundlessly.

Her face burns red even in the dark.

Paige’s smile is all teeth.

“I’ll tell her myself if you don’t let me in. I’ll go ring the doorbell right now. I’ll tell her what her precious daughter likes to see me do on my fucking knees.”

Azzi’s eyes are wild.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

Paige leans closer, breathing hard, tears drying on her cheeks.

“Make me.”

Azzi’s fingers dig into the window frame.

“Paige.” Her voice is shaking. “Go. HOME.”

Paige shakes her head.

“No. I can’t sleep knowing you’re mad at me, i can’t.”

Azzi’s eyes flutter shut for half a second. When she opens them, they’re wet too.

She hisses: “I hate you.”

Paige laughs, voice cracking.

“No you don’t.”

Azzi’s voice breaks:

“I do.”

Paige’s eyes go soft and manic at the same time.

“Then let me in and tell me to my face. I want to hear it up close. I want you to look at me when you say it.”

Azzi doesn’t answer.

Paige bangs the siding again.

“Azzi.”

Azzi grips the frame so hard her knuckles go white.

Finally, she shoves the window up the rest of the way.

She glares down.

“Get in. But you’re not sleeping in my bed. Floor. Or I swear to god I’ll call the cops.”

Paige doesn’t even hide her grin.

She hoists herself through the window and lands on the floor with a thunk.

Azzi backs up so fast she trips over her blankets.

Paige just watches her, breathing hard, hair tangled.

Azzi points at the floor, voice shaking.

“Sleep there.”

Paige lays down, still smiling.

Azzi turns away, wipes her face roughly, and climbs into bed.

But her voice wobbles when she says:

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

Paige’s voice is low, hungry.

“Okay. I won’t. Not unless you beg.”

Azzi doesn’t respond.

But her shoulders shake.

Paige sees it. She watches Azzi tremble in her bed while Paige shivers on the floor.

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Paige’s back is on the cold floor. She’s watching Azzi in the dark, blankets tucked tight around those tense shoulders.

For a long time there’s only breathing.

Paige can’t stand it.

“Stop shaking.”

Azzi’s voice comes low, flat.

“Shut up.”

“You’re gonna wake your mom with all that seething.”

Azzi huffs, clearly rolling her eyes even in the dark.

“Shut. Up.”

“Make me.”

Silence.

Paige grins at the ceiling.

“You worried about me being out in the cold. That’s what you said, right?”

Azzi’s voice goes acidic.

“Yeah. I don’t want to find your dead body on my lawn. Sue me.”

Paige chuckles, pushing up on her elbows.

“Sweet.”

Azzi clicks her tongue. “Get back on the floor.”

Paige shifts so the floor creaks loudly.

Azzi’s voice sharpens: “Paige.”

Paige ignores it, drags herself up onto the bed, careful but deliberate.

Azzi’s head whips over. “Off.”

Paige just snuggles the pillow behind her “Too late.”

Azzi’s voice is pure threat:

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Paige spreads out, deliberately brushing Azzi’s side.

“Not touching you.”

Azzi growls in her throat.

“You’re in my bed.”

Paige hums like she’s thinking.

“Still not the floor though.”

Azzi sucks in air, biting back what sounds like an insult.

Paige is smiling. She knows it’s infuriating.

Azzi mutters: “Disgusting.”

Paige whispers back, taunting: “Say that again.”

Azzi hisses.

“Disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

Paige tilts her head, dark eyes glittering.

“Mm. Bet Emily didn’t think so.”

Azzi goes stone-still.

Paige can feel it in the tension of the mattress.

Azzi speaks carefully, like each word is measured to keep from snapping.

“How was it.”

Paige raises an eyebrow in the dark.

“With Emily?”

Azzi’s jaw ticks.

“Yeah. With… her.”

Paige smiles slow.

“She was… accommodating.”

Azzi scoffs, venom dripping. “Of course. No standards.”

Paige’s grin widens. “Jealous?”

Azzi snorts. “Of Emily? Please.”

Paige leans closer. “She let me do anything I wanted.”

Azzi’s voice cuts like glass. “Bet you loved that. Bet you told her all the gross shit you tell me.”

Paige smirks. “Mm, not all of it. Didn’t want to scare her off.”

Azzi snorts, furious but level. “Charming. You’re vile.”

Paige’s grin is feral. “You want details?”

Azzi doesn’t blink. “Sure. Get it out of your system.”

Paige inhales. “She spread for me without arguing. Made pretty noises. Said thank you.”

Azzi snorts again. “Pathetic.”

Paige’s eyes gleam.

“She even begged. For me.”

Azzi’s voice is deadly calm. “Was it worth it? All this shit for some easy fuck?”

Paige’s smile fades. “Not really.”

Azzi arches a brow, voice dripping disdain.“Wow. Shocker.”

Paige’s voice drops low. “Still wanted you the whole time.”

Azzi’s mouth curls in disgust. “Tragic.”

Paige shifts on the bed, leaning close enough to feel Azzi’s body heat.

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

Azzi’s lips press into a razor-thin line. “Get off my bed.”

Paige’s grin sharpens. “Say you don’t want me and I will.”

Azzi doesn’t blink. “You make me sick.”

Paige laughs quietly. “That’s not a no.”

Azzi glares. “Get off.”

Paige lowers her voice to a taunting purr “You don’t want me to. Admit it.”

Azzi doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

Her eyes glitter with restrained fury.

Finally she spits the words:

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out the fucking window.”

Paige beams. “Romantic.”

Azzi snarls: “Don’t touch me.”

Paige lays back against the pillow, smug, refusing to leave.

Azzi turns away, jaw tight enough to crack.

Paige doesn’t stop.

“You were gonna let me freeze outside but you’re letting me in your bed. What’s that about?”

Azzi’s voice is a controlled explosion.

“I said don’t touch me. I didn’t say you could talk.”

Paige hums mockingly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be good. I’ll shut up.”

Azzi spits back immediately. “Bullshit.”

Paige laughs.

But she settles in, eyes heavy, sinking into Azzi’s warmth even as Azzi scoots as far away as possible without falling off the bed.

The silence is brutal, thick with everything neither of them will say out loud.

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Paige can’t stand the silence.

She shifts again on Azzi’s mattress, making it creak.

Her fingers hover over her own shirt, tracing the hemline. The fabric is rough under her nails.

“What are you doing?” Azzi’s voice is sharp, cutting through the silence.

“Warming up,” Paige murmurs, her smile playing in the shadows. She starts to lift her shirt, her movements slow and deliberate.

“What the fuck, Paige?”

But Paige ignores her, continuing to reveal her skin, inch by inch.

“You can’t just—”

But Paige cuts her off with a laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“Oh, but I can. You’re letting me stay here. So you’re letting me do this.”

Her shirt is over her head now, and she throws it aside, the fabric landing with a soft thud on the floor. The cold air prickles against her skin, but she doesn’t care.

She leans closer to Azzi, her bare chest brushing against her back.

“Stop fucking playing” Azzi warns, but her voice is a little too tight for Paige to believe her.

“I’m not playing,” Paige whispers, her breath hot against Azzi’s ear.

Her hand starts to move lower, caressing the curve of her waist, and then sliding over the soft fabric of her pajama pants.

“I’m just trying to get warm,” she says, her voice a lie wrapped in silk.

Her hand moves in a slow, steady rhythm, and she feels Azzi’s body tense up.

“Stop it,” Azzi says, but her voice is thicker, less sure.

Paige’s eyes glitter in the dark.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not serious. You’re just playing around because you’re bored or because you think it’ll annoy me or—”

“Or because I want you?”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, there’s no sound but the harshness of their breathing.

“I don’t want to be your experiment,” Azzi says, finally.

But Paige’s hand doesn’t stop.

“I’m not experimenting. I know exactly what I want.”

With those words, Paige shifts her hand lower, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her own pants, and starts to stroke herself. The sound is faint in the quiet room, the only noise the rustle of fabric and the occasional gasp of pleasure that escapes her lips. She keeps her eyes on Azzi, watching her reaction. The tension in the room is palpable, like a live wire about to snap.

Azzi’s breath hitches, and Paige knows she’s getting to her. She moves her hand a little faster, her thumb circling her clit as she watches the muscles in Azzi’s back tighten and release.

“You don’t get to just—”

“But you’re letting me,” Paige says, her voice a teasing whisper.

Her hand slides down to her own waist, the fabric of her pants a rough caress against her skin. She hooks her thumbs under the elastic and pulls down, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. The pants slide down her legs, leaving her in only her sports bra, which she made sure to make azzi’s favorite color, pink. Her underwear follows, the fabric catching on her ankles before she kicks it away.

Now, she’s bare in front of Azzi, her legs spread slightly, inviting. She starts to touch herself again, her fingers exploring her wetness with a greedy hunger. The sight of her hand moving between her legs is obscene in the dim light, and Paige knows Azzi can see everything. She bites her lip, her hips arching slightly with each stroke.

“You like watching, don’t you?” Paige says, her voice a sultry taunt.

Her hand moves faster, her fingers sliding in and out of herself, her thumb pressing down on her clit in a steady rhythm. She’s so wet she can feel it on her thighs, and she knows Azzi can see that, too.

Azzi’s body is tense, like she’s fighting against something.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” Paige says, her voice breathless.

Her hand speeds up, her hips bucking into her own touch. She’s so close, so close to coming, and she wants Azzi to watch. She needs Azzi to see how much she wants her.

“Tell me to stop,” Paige says, her eyes locked on Azzi’s profile.

But Azzi doesn’t say a word. She’s frozen, watching Paige with a mix of anger and something else, something darker.

So Paige keeps going, her hand moving faster and faster, her breaths coming in quick pants. She’s so close, so close to the edge, and she wants to take Azzi with her. She wants to shatter that control, to make her feel as wild and out of control as she does right now.

Her orgasm hits her like a wave, crashing over her in a rush of pleasure so intense it steals her breath away. She cries out, her body convulsing against the bed, her hand still moving as the aftershocks pulse through her.

And all the while, Azzi just watches, her eyes burning into Paige’s in the dark.

When Paige’s breathing finally evens out, she smirks.

“Still think I don’t know what I want?”

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strawberriesncigars · 1 day ago

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fucked my way up to the top | h.s

pairing: ceo!harry styles x bratty!reader summary: harry is a businessman stuck in a marriage of convenience, and the girlfriend he’s fucking behind closed doors isn’t exactly making things easier for him. word count: 4k+

warnings: nsfw, smut, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, marriage of convenience, cheating-adjacent, morally grey dynamics, power play, creampie, semi-public tension, possessiveness.

author's note: hi, this is the first thing i’ve written in years and also my first fic in english. it was inspired by a bot i created on c.ai a few months ago. as someone whose first language isn’t english, i was really careful with my writing, but i’m sorry in advance for any mistakes. i don’t have a big following here so i’m not expecting much but if it reaches anyone and gets some love, i might continue the story instead of leaving it as a one shot, since the plot in my head isn’t finished yet. if you enjoyed it reblogs and comments would make me so happy. thank you for giving it a chance. xx

“Red.”

Harry leaned in with his half-finished champagne glass in hand, confused. “What?”

Y/N’s lips, which looked especially pink tonight, curled slightly with a knowing smile. In a voice as smooth as honey, she whispered into his ear, “The color of the underwear peeking from under my dress," Her warm breath brushed against his neck, "Red."

Harry recoiled like he’d been electrocuted, leaning back in his chair. They were at a goddamn dinner party — surrounded by work colleagues and, of course, his lovely wife.

He’d known from the start he shouldn’t have sat next to her, but clearly, she’d somehow managed to push Jules to the opposite side of the table and sit him right beside herself. And as if that wasn’t enough, now she was whispering lingerie details into his ear... in full view of his wife.

Harry took another sip of his drink. He had no intention of getting drunk tonight as the host, but the small amount of alcohol in his system might help him push away the disturbing thoughts about how that red lace would look against Y/N’s flawless skin.

As he glanced toward his wife, who sat across from him chatting with Emma about the brand’s new collection, she leaned in once again. And Harry, not wanting to draw attention by shifting in his chair, had no choice but to give in.

“When are we going to get away from your lovely wife’s revolting glares?” she asked, her lips grazing his ear. “I’m dying to sit on your lap and discuss the details of that European getaway I mentioned.”

Harry swallowed audibly. “I haven’t even said yes yet.”

“You won’t,” she teased, her voice laced with wicked amusement. “You’ll moan.”

This was it.

When you were a millionaire CEO stuck in a marriage of convenience with one of high society’s most sought-after heiresses, and the girl you were fucking behind closed doors decided to sit this close during a dinner party like it meant nothing, you ended the night nursing a painfully persistent hard-on and pretending your entire world wasn’t crumbling from the inside out.

Harry seized the first opportunity to escape the crowd and slipped into his study. Leaning against his desk, he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Y/N had always been more reckless than him in situations like this. But she was also sensitive. Harry remembered times he had made her come without even laying a finger on her — just with his words. But lately, something had shifted. He wasn’t sure if it was the damn Italian getaway she kept bringing up or the fact that he hadn’t spent the last four nights with her. He’d never seen her quite like this before, especially the way she made those nasty comments about his wife.

He walked behind his desk, sank into his chair, and reluctantly reached for the bottle, pouring himself a bit of cognac. He leaned back and undid the top two buttons of his shirt with one hand, rubbing at his neck like he needed more air. He had barely taken a few sips when the door creaked open without a knock, and Y/N slipped inside.

Harry straightened slightly in his chair as she quietly shut the door behind her. The black satin dress she wore hugged her curves in all the right places. A delicate necklace hung down her chest, adorning her exposed skin like artwork. Of course he recognized the necklace, it was a Valentine’s Day gift from Paris that had cost him a fortune.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Her heels echoed softly against the hardwood as she made her way toward him with confident but gentle steps. “The happy Styles couple’s charming little dinner party. So adorable.”

“I didn’t realize we looked that happy.” Harry twirled the cognac in his glass before downing the last of it and setting the glass back on the desk.

Y/N approached him with a mocking smile on her lips, slid between the chair and the desk, and leaned her hips against the wooden surface right in front of Harry. Crossing her arms, she tilted her head slightly. “Everyone was talking about you two,” she said. He had to fight hard not to let his eyes drift to the thin strap of her dress sliding down one shoulder. “Didn’t you hear?”

Harry smiled faintly. “No, I didn’t.” He inhaled her body like it was unfamiliar, even though he knew every curve by heart. The urge to touch her bare thighs, flaunted just inches from him with inviting warmth, made his fingertips tingle. He leaned back against the headrest and locked eyes with hers. “Some entitled little brat was too busy whispering dirty thoughts into my ear. At a table with my wife and colleagues.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes with childish defiance. “Since when do you care about what your wife thinks?”

Harry shook his head, his expression growing serious. “We talked about this when we got into it, Y/N. I thought we had an agreement.” His brow furrowed. “Just because this is a marriage of convenience doesn’t mean we get to shove it in her face.”

She uncrossed her legs and pushed off from the desk, leaning over him and placing her hands on either side of his chair. Her sharp gaze pierced into Harry’s now darkened green eyes as she closed the distance between them. “I do whatever I want,” she whispered with a heavy tone. Harry swallowed. “You know why?”

When Harry looked at her in question, Y/N slowly lowered herself to her knees and brought her elegant fingers to his belt.

Something was definitely going on with her tonight. Harry had seen her wild before, but never this bold, this reckless. Never this nasty about his wife. He watched with narrowed eyes as she unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers down to his ankles with unbothered ease.

Her grin turned into a smug smirk as Harry cupped her face with both hands. “Baby,” he tried to summon whatever self-control he had left, “the door’s not locked. Get up. At least wait until everyone leaves—”

But her hand pressed against his clothed erection in a slow, teasing rub, and his words broke off, breath growing uneven. As if spending the whole evening painfully hard hadn’t been enough, now they were practically playing exhibitionist in a room anyone could walk into. He wondered how much more colorful his night could get.

And like none of it meant a thing, Y/N reached for his hips and pulled down his boxers. She gave his cock a long stroke, savoring the groan she drew from him, before placing her lips on the tip.

Harry was losing his mind. He shouldn’t be letting her. He should be yanking up his pants and heading back downstairs before anyone noticed. But when she pressed her tongue flat against the head and let out a wet sound, Harry instinctively tossed his head back and lost the last shred of rational thought.

Unlike Harry, Y/N seemed intent on enjoying every bit of it. She slid his now throbbing cock deeper into her mouth with practiced ease. Fuck, she was good at this. Harry watched the way she took him inch by inch, fingers clenching the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white. A strangled groan slipped from his throat.

His head was spinning from lust and liquor. He slid one hand down to her hair, twining his cold fingers through her soft strands. she moaned sweetly at the touch, and Harry could feel the vibrations echo through her mouth around his hardness.

“Harry?”

The moment he heard the voice outside the door, he cursed under his breath and straightened up. Somehow, without even thinking, he managed to nudge Y/N under the desk just in time — and her lips slipped off him milliseconds before the door creaked open. As he scooted his chair closer to the desk to close the gap, Jules stepped into the room.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry thought, my life is a soap opera.

He leaned casually over the desk, trying his best to look like he hadn’t just been getting a blowjob from his girlfriend under the table. “Jules? Something wrong?”

She took a few hesitant steps into the room, finally turning to face him fully. “Uh, no, it’s just… you never came back down. I was starting to get worried. The others are heading out to the garden —”

Jules continued talking, probably updating him on what was happening downstairs, but Harry couldn’t hear a single word. Y/N, apparently incapable of staying still for even two minutes, had slowly pressed her lips back to his cock and was starting to suck again. Her tongue moved in a heavy rhythm, coating him in wet heat while her hands reached down to fondle his balls. Stars exploded behind Harry’s eyes. He was trying so hard not to push her away or groan out loud and call her a fucking menace.

When Jules’ gaze drifted to his hand, Harry suddenly realized he was crumpling one of the scattered papers on the desk in a tight fist.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, concerned.

Harry swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just… fucking nausea,” he muttered. “Must’ve mixed the cocktails wrong.” He was running out of breath from keeping so tense. Even managing a full sentence felt like a goddamn miracle.

“Where’s Y/N? She disappeared right after you did.”

Harry barely managed to inhale. “Definitely not in here,” he said with a dry laugh, trying to mask the panic in his voice.

As her name was spoken aloud, she chose that exact moment to take his cock deep into her throat and press her tongue exactly where Harry needed it most.

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop a primal growl from escaping.

“Harry, are you sure you’re alright?” Jules let go of the door handle, which only made the panic surge higher in Harry’s chest. “You don’t think you’ve been poisoned or something?”

“I’m fine, Jules. Just need a little alone time,” he said quickly. “You know — like you can see — paperwork.” He gestured vaguely at the desk to justify the mess in front of him. “Won’t be long.”

As Jules backed up a step, Harry discreetly took a deeper breath of relief.

“Alright. Want me to tell them you’ll be out soon?”

Harry nodded. “That’d be great. I won’t be more than thirty minutes.”

She gave a small nod and turned to leave.

And right then —because of course— Y/N let out a low moan around his cock, deep in her throat.

Harry’s eyes widened as Jules turned back toward him, suspicious. “What was that?”

He coughed, thumping his chest with one hand. “This fucking drink,” he said between coughs. “Wrecked my throat too, apparently.”

Jules narrowed her eyes at him like he’d lost his damn mind, then slowly nodded and left the room.

Harry finally exhaled deeply. “Jesus fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. He could feel her smug smile without even seeing it.

As she took him all the way to the back of her throat again, Harry slumped back and pulled her a little closer under the desk. The moan she earned from him was hoarse and full of grit. She pulled away with a wet sound and licked her lips. “Don’t come yet,” she murmured, climbing to her feet and grabbing Harry’s arm to pull him up with her. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He let himself be guided, still dazed from the whirlwind of it all. Y/N’s breathing was heavy and uneven as she dragged him toward the leather couch in the corner of the room. “Sit.”

Harry sat down. He felt like every ounce of willpower had drained from his body, like he was now wrapped around her little finger. Even Y/N herself seemed slightly surprised at how quickly he’d given her control. For a fleeting second, he caught something in her expression— a look that almost said I expected you to push me over the desk, whisper something filthy in my ear, and fuck me like you meant it. Instead, he had surrendered the reins. But she didn’t seem disappointed. Quite the opposite.

After sitting him down, she walked toward the door. Harry drank in the sway of her hips and the rhythm of her legs like it was a work of art. At the door, she turned the lock with an easy flick and then pushed the handle down to show him it wouldn’t open. “Look, we’re taking all the fun out of it just so you don’t have to whine.”

Her smile was taunting.

Walking back to him, she grabbed the hem of her dress with both hands and hiked it up, tossing it onto the couch beside him within seconds.

When the red lace lingerie was revealed, Harry swallowed so hard it made his throat bob.

The soft click of her heels echoed as she approached, stepping between his legs and settling herself on his lap. The thin lace separating them from each other — and Harry’s boxers, already damp with pre-cum — did nothing to ease the friction.

She laced her fingers behind his neck and leaned in to press a wet kiss on his lips. Harry, limp-armed for a second, finally brought his hands up and rested them on her waist right over the waistband of her lace panties while letting her insistent tongue explore his mouth.

Y/N clung to the back of his hair and pulled away with a breathy sound. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Harry really wanted to focus. What she’d just done was reckless, even for her. She had kept sucking him under the damn table, with his wife only a few feet away. That wasn’t something you just brushed off.

But his cock was so painfully hard he could barely think.

Every little grind of her hips had him touching her through that lace, his cock grazing her slick heat with maddening pressure. If she didn’t give him more soon, he was going to lose it.

He tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her closer. Her smile widened. She leaned in and kissed his temple, then let her lips brush down to his ear. “Would she do this for you, H?” she whispered. “Would she even look up from those dumb tabloid magazines to touch you?”

Harry let out a low sound as she pressed herself against his erection deliberately.

She moved her lips to his neck and sucked hard enough to pull blood to the surface. She didn’t stop until she was sure there would be a mark.

“Now...” she sighed dramatically, like she had a long list of things to do, “Why don’t you put those fingers to good use while I figure out which city we should pick for our little getaway?”

Harry grabbed her by the hips and yanked her down hard against him. “That getaway will only happen in your dreams, you spoiled brat,” he muttered, not-so-gently tugging the lace aside.

Y/N laughed, cocky and breathless, as she bit her bottom lip, her soaked heat exposed. “What happened to the sweet princess?”

Harry slid a finger between her folds, letting it glide up and down, soaking it in her wetness. When he pressed the tip just slightly at her entrance, she tensed and rocked her hips forward with a needy whimper. “The princess died under that table,” he growled.

When Y/N felt Harry’s finger fully slide inside her, she bit down on her lower lip again.

“Don’t bite,” Harry growled, his voice rough, and added a second finger beside the first. She let out a shaky moan. The small figure-eights she traced with her hips told Harry she was close to surrendering that earlier bratty attitude.

“You know,” she said with a gulp, “I do like being a princess.”

Harry looked up at her with furrowed brows. “Yeah?”

As his fingers moved faster, Y/N’s cautious whimpers turned into soft, kittenish mewls. She nodded, burying her face into his neck. “Yeah,” she whispered, nipping him gently, “because you like it when I act like a princess, don’t you?”

“I’ve always liked the princess,” Harry muttered, “but I’m not sure I feel the same about this new brat.”

He felt her grin against his neck, her elegant hands planting firmly on his chest through his shirt. “You’ll grow to love her too,” she said, continuing to pepper his skin with wet kisses.

Harry tried to pull away from her mouth. “Can you not?” he muttered, exasperated.

She lifted her head and licked her lips. “Why? Afraid your wife might see?” She slowly sat back on her knees and reached down to align herself. Harry’s hands gripped her hips as she guided him into position, holding his erection at the base and lowering herself onto him.

The moment his cock entered her, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He felt her breath on his neck, her lips, her heat and the delicious, maddening tightness of her pussy as they closed around him inch by inch.

They’d done this countless times before. This was probably Y/N’s favorite position. It gave her control, let her use him exactly how she wanted and feel him in all the right places.

She started to ride him with a rhythm that sent them both over the edge. Harry’s grip on her lower back tightened as he buried his face in the soft skin above her bra. He pressed scattered, wet kisses across her chest, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts.

Y/N rolled her hips harder, using her thighs to bounce with just enough force to pull a deep, guttural moan from Harry’s mouth.

He caught her chin with two fingers and kissed her hard, lips crashing together. She cupped his face in return and opened her mouth for him, tasting like strawberries and champagne. As his hand slid around to her back, he unhooked her bra with practiced ease, letting her breasts fall free.

One hand stayed at her waist to keep her steady; the other cupped her bare chest, kneading it gently. When he pinched her nipple between two fingers, she gasped uncontrollably into the kiss. Her movements stuttered. Her legs began to tremble.

When their lips parted with a wet sound, Harry dragged his hands down to her thighs. He smoothed his palms over her skin, starting from the backs of her knees and working his way up, easing her motion as she rode him with slowing rhythm. “Let me take over, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

Y/N slowed to a stop like she’d been waiting for him to ask. Her arms looped around his neck and she gave him full control. Harry gently pushed her back onto the couch, laying her flat on her back. He slid his cock out of her wet heat, earning a soft whine of protest, and reached down to yank the lace panties off her ankles.

Tossing the soaked fabric aside, he looked at her spread out beneath him — eyes dazed, mouth parted, chest rising with each breath.

Gripping her thighs, he pushed them farther apart and thrust back inside her in one smooth, deep motion. She gasped, arching slightly, as Harry hooked her legs over his shoulders and leaned forward to press a kiss to her inner thigh.

He didn’t have the patience to go slow anymore. His cock ached, and her dripping cunt was far too inviting.

He drove into her, fast and hard, balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. She moaned loudly, her heels — still clad in sharp stilettos — scraping across the back of his shirt. “Mm, fuck… Harry, that feels so good- harder… Oh!”

Harry silenced her with his mouth, swallowing her moans as he kept pounding into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, tighter.

When Harry felt his cock start to twitch inside her, he slid a hand between them and found her clit without hesitation. The second his fingers grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves, she tensed, her moans turning high and desperate.

He kept rubbing, circling the spot with steady pressure, and Y/N shattered beneath him — trembling, legs shaking, voice breathy as she whimpered his name like it was the only thing she knew.

As her body convulsed through the orgasm, Harry leaned down and kissed her breasts, trying to ground her as she rode out the wave. When her cunt tightened around him with every pulse of pleasure, Harry knew he was right there with her.

He grunted, hips jerking erratically. “Do you want me to pull out?” He asked, barely coherent, pushing back the inevitable.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pulled him down to her. “No,” she whispered, her fingertips toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want you to come inside.”

He was used to this by now. Y/N hated condoms. She’d even managed to convince Harry — who used to be vehemently against unprotected sex — to change his mind over time. There was no real sex life with his wife, and he trusted her. Since she came into his life, she’d made it her mission to shatter every single one of his boundaries. And Harry had let her. Every time.

With a final deep thrust, Harry buried himself fully inside her and came, spilling everything into her with a low moan as his forehead dropped to her shoulder. His entire body collapsed against hers, chest heaving.

While trying to catch his breath, he inhaled the familiar scent of her skin and murmured against her shoulder, “So... what city are we thinking for this so-called vacation?”

Y/N’s soft giggle filled the air and warmed something inside him. “Are we back to princess mode already?”

“You’re always the princess, baby,” Harry said, lifting himself slightly to look at her flushed face. He brushed her cheekbone with two fingers while the other hand rested at her waist, drawing lazy circles against her skin. “Even when you act like the villain.”

Y/N leaned in and pressed her forehead to his, placing a soft, wet kiss on his lips. “Didn’t seem like you were scared of the villain.”

“Do you want that trip or not?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N kissed the crease between his brows and, despite her exhausted body, gently pushed him off so she could stand. Reaching for her discarded clothes in the corner, she mumbled, “You should probably head back downstairs.”

Harry watched her dress with dazed eyes before finally standing up to pull his pants back on. “You’re not coming?”

She adjusted her hair and tugged her dress back down. “No. Think I’ll head home.” Then added hesitantly, “Are you coming over later?”

Harry nodded in response. She gave a faint smile and walked toward the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Harry said, catching up to her and grabbing her arm gently. She had already reached the door by the time he touched her elbow. When she looked at him questioningly, he asked, “You know Jules isn’t what I want, right?”

Her smile grew, but he felt something bittersweet behind it. It wasn’t in her lips — it was in her eyes. Like there was something she wanted to say but wouldn’t. Harry knew her well enough not to push. There was something about her mood tonight, about the week-long tension, the way she kept dodging the topic of the trip, it all gnawed at him.

But if there was one thing he’d learned in their seven-month relationship, it was that when Y/N put up walls, the only way in was to let her be the one to lower them. Maybe she just needed a little time. And he was willing to give her that space.

Y/N leaned in and kissed him one last time, soft and slow. “Don’t be too late,” she whispered, giving no answer to his question.

Before he could say anything else, she unlocked the door and slipped out.

Harry stood there for a moment, smiling faintly. For the first time that night, he felt a strange sense of calm.

Of course, that would vanish the moment he joined his wife downstairs and slipped his hand into his pocket — only to feel the scrap of red lace, unknowingly placed there.

154 notes · View notes

caprisunisgud · 1 day ago

Text

Oh boy, this is gonna take a while *big breath™*

Andúril replica I bought at a ren faire

6'2, I think the extra two inches are all I need

Dirty blonde/light brown (maybe?)

Don't think I have any

Yes

Good question

Being a massive shut-in with real people

Touches 🥰

Very often

Yes

German

Scotland

I once almost lost my right leg

Two days ago, but I'm gonna shower before bed tonight

A couple months ago, I think?

It was this weird one where everything was 2.5D and had og Doom graphics, but all the enemies were zombies and there was this one big, cyborg skull thing that was a boss

Author

Picnic lunch under a shady tree. After lunch, he takes me home and we cuddle under a blanket and do whatever till dinner

Draw, comfort people, find motivation

Scotland

Don't really know what that means

Not really, not something that hasn't happened to everyone

Chrismas, people give me money

Don't remember

I once made a dinosaur out of cardboard boxes

Probably drawing maps, out of everything

Not very well, but yes

Yes, six of them

Do I die honorably

Nipple piercings, they're just, 🤮

It's summer rn, but I really liked my Independent Research teacher. He was an actual, professional medievalist

Every other day, any more and it gets super gross and greasy

Fairly often, usually about ocs or fantasies of mine

My room. No windows

My dad, he has a lot less counts of being immature and petty than my mom

Loyalty. I always stay loyal to a fault when I comes to genuine things, but if you break it, I'm not delusional, I won't come back

My oldest brother's, he's very good at explaining things

"The river has fish somewhere"

Cuddle with someone

Ghosted one of the best paras I had back in school for no good reason

Yes

Autumn

The twilight before sunrise, even though I'm rarely ever awake at that time

Not really

When confronting someone about their shitty behavior

Don't have any regrets in terms of purchaces

Yes

I dunno, The Hobbit?

This one bitch >:( he groped me in a stairwell in 8th grade, I then kicked him down said stairs and told the SRO to keep him away from me

Sonadow is overrated

Dark Souls remastered, at the moment

This one time I hallucinated the sound of someone walking upstairs when noone was there

... no

Very different, and I'm happy about that

Very much so :)

Don't have one, tbh

Yes

"Oh, uh, thanks, but why?" Irl, and "I could never contend with you ;)" here on Tumblr

Someone (probably a friend) crying for me. That may sound weird, but like, seeing me in such terrible distress distresses them? It's hard to explain

Yes

Not genuinely, no

I already answered this 🤨

Metonic/Sonetal

Can't say, I love a lot of songs

FUCK no

Maybe? Probably when I younger

Sleep? What's that?

No 😔

Three, two cats one dog

Hazel

How fucking nasty and hairy I am. I wanna get rid of all this shit but I don't have one of those thingies people use

Giant pandas

Flirting irl

Spangle's

Yes

11th

Literally only Tumblr

I ended last year with a low D in math

About 5:00... pm

Thankfully no

Most of them

This one red and black shirt I have

FUCK YEAH, DINOSAURS

I hate having so much of it, it feels gross as fuck >:( On other people I'm generally neutral, but down under? 🤮

I dunno

Nah

When I was younger and my parents forced me (I've never liked it)

Yes, quite

ask game

1. whats your favorite thing in your room?

2. how tall do you wish you were?

3. what color is your hair?

4. whats a rare fear that you have?

5. are you single?

6. has your heart ever been broken?

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

8. favorite coping mechanism?

9. whats your favorite love language?

10. how often do you get nervous?

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them?

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be?

13. where do you wish to live?

14. what’s something surprising about you?

15. when did you last shower?

16. when did you first join tumblr?

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why?

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had?

19. whats your dream job?

20. whats your ideal date?

21. what do you wish you could do better?

22. what country would you live in if you could?

23. whos the best person you know?

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have?

25. whats your favorite holiday?

26. when have you been most embarrassed?

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

28. what are you best at?

29. do you know how to tie your shoes?

30. do you have siblings?

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know?

32. whats a dealbreaker for you?

33. whats your favorite current class?

34. how many people have you dated?

35. how often do you wash your hair?

36. do you daydream? what about?

37. where do you go to be alone?

38. which parent do you like more?

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to?

40. whos voice do you enjoy?

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be?

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet?

43. what do you wish you never did?

44. do you believe in life after death?

45. do you prefer book over movie?

46. whats your favorite season?

47. whats your favorite time of day

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal?

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently?

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought?

51. do you have your own room?

52. whats your favorite book?

53. who’s someone you hate?

54. whats your best hottake?

55. whats your favorite game?

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear?

57. are you a morning person?

58. do you drink enough water?

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

60. do you enjoy tumblr?

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app?

62. whats your least favorite game?

63. were you a markiplier fan?

64. how do you respond to compliments?

65. whats something that would make you fall in love?

66. do you believe in marriage?

67. do you have a crush on someone?

68. do you like tumblr?

69. were you a voltron stan?

70. whats your favorite ship?

71. whats your favorite song?

72. do you like loud crowds?

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose?

74. how do you sleep?

75. do you bite your lips?

76. do you use chapstick?

77. do you have any pets?

78. what color are your eyes?

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

80. have you ever had surgery?

81. whats your least favorite animal?

82. whats something that youre really bad at?

83. do you have an sqishmellows?

84. do you enjoy fast food?

85. do you like soda?

86. what grade are you in?

87. do you wear any jewelry?

88. what socials do you use?

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now?

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till?

91. did you ever have bangs?

92. what trends did you hate?

93. whats your favorite item of clothing?

94. do you like dinosaurs?

95. whats your opinion on body hair?

96. whats your least favorite time?

97. do you make a wish at 11:11?

98. do you have your phone on military or regular?

99. have you ever been to church?

100. are you lgbtq?

#FUCKING HELL #that took a lot out of me

5K notes · View notes

martygraciesversion381 · 1 day ago

Text

BACK TO FRIENDS

lando norris x piastri!reader

warnings: angst, feelings, oscar being the best brother ever, lando acting like a bitch, suggestive talk, again i am deeply sorry

summary: you're Oscar Piastri's little sister and you and Lando always hated each other. So how did you end up in this weird situation with him? That's what you're asking yourself too

song: back to friends by sombr

a/n: I'm so sorry again. I can't really write long things I just got so much going on in my life right now and i'm still trying to improve my writing hope you guys understand

COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED!!

requests[closed for now]

masterlist

series masterlist

The Abu Dhabi grand prix atmosphere felt like it was out of a fayritale. People were happy, cheering for their favourite drivers and this race, with the constructor battle between ferrari and mclaren it was even more exciting.

You felt numb though, standing in your hotel room. To say that Lando's words in Vegas had complitely destroyed you was an understatement. Oscar spent more than a week to try and get you out of your apartment, he didn't know what could happen during winter break.

You put on a shirt with your brother's number on its back, making sure that everyone, Lando included, knew that you were only there for Oscar.

The walk to the garage was the worst walk of your life since you knew that in a matter of time you'd be seeing Lando's face again, the one that you had been able to avoid but not anymore.

He spotted you when you arrived, a smile made its way on his face and he made his way over to you.

"Hey! How are you? Haven't seen you since Vegas everything good?"

Why was he acting like nothing happened? What the fuck was wrong with him? You put on a smile, only for the hundred of cameras watching you.

"I'm good"

"Cool, perfect...I'll see you later yeah?" he asked and you nodded even if you had no intention of seeing him again.

You walked over to Oscar who had been watching your interaction.

"What did he want?" he asked clearly in his protective older brother mood.

"Nothing...was acting weird like nothing happened."

"What an asshole...you deserve so much better sis"

______________________________________________________________

Lando won, he fucking won. Which meant that mclaren won the constructors! You weren't happy for him, you were happy for the team, or at least that's what you were telling yourself.

He was glowing when he lifted his trophy and even more when the team sprayed him and your brother with champagne. How could this cheerful and handsome guy have said such horrible things to you?

When Oscar spotted you, reality hit you all at once. You were there for him, he invited you, he was smiling at you. Not Lando but your brother, the one who in all of this mess was your rock, the only sure thing you had.

It was 1am, when you heard a knock on your hotel room door. You opened it to find a drunk Lando standing there.

"Gimme head" he said and walked past you into your room.

"What the heck?"

"I said gimme head...c'mon I won t'day and you're my good girl aren't you?"

"Land you're drunk and just so you remember you ended things. So go find a random bitch who will give you head because I won't do it" you said firmly.

"You girls're all the same...only care 'bout you needs never givin' head to winners"

"And you boys all act like immature children. Now get out of my room before I call someone to kick you out."

Lando stood up muttering something about "stupid girl who doesn't deserve love" and walked past you making his was back to his room. The door slammed shut and you slid to the floor.

God, what the fuck was wrong with that man?

tagglist:

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#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris angst #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x reader #ln4 angst #ln4 imagine

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lucy-literates · 2 days ago

Note

First of all thank you that you write my requests even if you have a lot to do, I appreciate it 🫶🏾

I loved Too much, it was touching and I love it, when the whole grid is involved 😊

I do have another idea :)

A younger reader (28) again, I just love it 🙈 and Lewis dates the reader for a stupid bet, but they were all drunk and forgot the bet.

They fall for eachother but the reader overhears them talking about it, but Lewis gets it right with a happy ending 😊

Lots of love :)

A/N: Sorry for being away for so long, I guess you could say I had some writers block for a while. I hope you enjoy this :)

Didn’t Mean To, Meant It Anyway

It started as a stupid game. Champagne, music, and too many bored millionaires crammed into someone’s Monaco rooftop villa trying to one-up each other with dares that got dumber by the hour.

You weren’t supposed to be there.

You didn’t usually do this — parties full of egos and Rolexes, girls in heels sharp enough to stab, laughter so fake it echoed hollow. But your friend dragged you out and swore it’d be fun. Said you needed to let loose. Said you deserved a night to feel expensive.

You were sipping a drink too pink and too strong when you felt eyes on you. That kind of stare you could feel before you even turned around. Heat on your skin, goosebumps despite the heat.

And then — there he was.

Lewis Hamilton. Formula One legend. Ridiculously handsome. And apparently, already walking toward you with the kind of confidence you only see in slow-motion movie scenes.

"Hi," he said, flashing you a smile that could’ve sold perfume in Paris.

You raised a brow, amused. "You always approach strangers like they’re already yours?"

His smile widened. "Only when they look like they could ruin me."

Somewhere behind him, Carlos whooped. You didn’t notice. Not yet.

You gave him your name. And your number. And the kind of half-smile that said, I don’t usually do this, but I might make an exception for you.

You didn’t know he’d just been dared to ask you out. Didn’t know it was a joke between drivers — A week. Bet you can’t keep her around longer than that.

And Lewis? He didn’t think it mattered. You’d both be over it by next week.

Except… you weren’t.

It started with a brunch date the next morning, because he didn’t want to waste time. He showed up in sunglasses and a hoodie, somehow looking both lowkey and magnetic.

You teased him the whole way through. "Didn’t think you were the pancakes and oat milk kind of guy."

"Only for you," he said, and God help you, he meant it a little more than he meant to.

What followed wasn’t what either of you expected.

You fit into each other's worlds more easily than you should’ve. He brought you to the paddock once and regretted it instantly when you pointed out exactly how the FIA’s regulations were gender-biased before he could even order lunch.

You laughed at his terrible Spotify playlists. He listened to you talk about your job, your dreams, your childhood cat, like it was the most interesting thing in the universe. He made you tea at 2 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep. You wore his hoodie and didn’t give it back. He let you steal fries off his plate without a word.

By the end of the second week, you were sleeping at his place more than your own. By the third, he’d introduced you to Roscoe. By the fourth, you were wondering when the floor was going to drop from under you because this — This felt real.

And Lewis?

He hadn’t thought about the bet since the first date.

It was a stupid coincidence.

You were early to his place, armed with coffee and a smug text ready to send when he opened the door.

He didn’t hear you come in — still out on the balcony, laughing into the phone.

You paused, not wanting to interrupt.

“…Yeah, it started as a bet,” Lewis said, chuckling.

Your stomach dropped.

Your brain scrambled for context. A bet? What bet?

“But I forgot it was a joke after the second date. I’m serious, mate — she’s different. Smart as hell, doesn’t put up with my shit. I think I—”

You left.

Quietly. Before he could say another word. Before he could explain. Before he could break your heart any more than he already had.

You ghosted him.

Didn’t answer the door. Didn’t reply to texts. Didn’t even let your friends say his name in your presence.

Lewis spiraled — a little more each day.

He’d thought he’d been careful. Not because he was hiding anything, but because this wasn’t about the bet anymore. Hadn’t been for weeks. He wasn’t playing. He hadn’t been playing since you first kissed him and told him you’d never felt more seen.

And now?

He’d lost you over the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

But he wasn’t giving up.

It started with a note slipped under your door.

Then flowers. Then another note. Then him, sitting on your doorstep, looking like hell, holding your necklace in his hands like it was sacred.

“I never meant for it to be real,” he said when you finally opened the door one rainy afternoon. “But then you happened. And it’s the only thing that feels real anymore.”

You crossed your arms, silent. Watching.

He swallowed, eyes searching yours. “It was a dare. One night. And then I got to know you. And now I’m ruined. Properly. Because I love you, and I don’t even know if you’ll ever let me prove it.”

You stared at him for a long time.

“You bet on me,” you said softly.

He nodded. “And I lost. Because I fell. Hard.”

You didn’t say anything.

You just stepped aside. Let him in.

A few months later, after slow mornings and long drives and everything he promised he’d never take for granted again — he clipped a necklace around your neck.

A quiet gesture. A new start.

You glanced down. A small, simple charm.

“No bet this time?” you whispered.

Lewis smiled against your skin, his lips brushing your shoulder.

“No bet,” he murmured. “Just a promise.”

Tag List:

@alexxavicry

@k-1609

@alyislost

@supersanelyromantic

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=drivesdk

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton

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ye-olde-tardis · 1 day ago

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I dont care what anyone says about The X files, they do season finales like no other. Sometimes they're 4 episodes long and dont get resolved until the middle of the next season. Absolutely peak. I miss when shows had enough seasons to fully have arcs like that. Now, we have six, hour-long episodes with no chance for any of them to be filler, its just go-go-go all the time, and by the end you wind up forgetting half of the plot. We need time to simmer with the pain of the characters losing someone close to them. We need to watch them slowly go crazy enough from their circumstances to have enough motivation to snap at the end of the season.

In other news, NO, I will not be skipping arpund to plot episodes in season 8. I've googled it, and apperently a lot of people do that.... but im going to suffer exactly like how scully is suffering. Two seasons of no mulder. So I can feel her happiness when he comes back.

#txf #the x files #x files #season 8 #txf s8 #john doggett #fox mulder #dana scully

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lananiscorner · 1 day ago

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All of this. And this is true for so many things in life.

I used to work in videogame QA.

Do you know what it takes to introduce a gamebreaking bug into a game?

You delete/mistype one (1) line of code in a critical location.

Do you know what it takes to fix a gamebreaking bug?

You need to:

Have somebody play that part of the game, ideally without debug that allows them to skip the non-bugged stuff needed to get there, in an effort to reproduce that bug.

Have them do that at least 5 times, because you need to know if that bug occurs randomly or consistently/always, plus you need to know which actions exactly cause the bug.

Then you need to pass that knowledge on to a developer who can go "ah yes, if you do actions X, Y and Z and it causes bug A, then the fault must be somewhere in code block/string/element 3549356549". They still need to identify that exact code/trigger that's causing the issue.

Once they've found it, they then need to fix it in a way that will HOPEFULLY not break anything else.

Then QA needs to test it again to make sure it didn't break anything else.

And that is if all goes well!

If QA can't reproduce the bug (maybe the issue is caused by specific hardware/software configurations that QA don't have access to, maybe it only occurs on retail consoles and not dev consoles, maybe there's a mod all effected users have had installed for years and just forgot to mention, maybe it requires really specific steps and none of the bug reports were specific enough), then none of the rest of that chain can happen.

If QA managed to track down the issue, but dev can't fix it without breaking other, equally or more important shit, then it's not getting fixed. Not until someone comes up with a good fix at least.

If QA and devs are already busy with hundreds of bugs that are more important than the bug you reported? Your bug will get looked at when, or more importantly IF, there is any budget/time left to fix it. And the answer to that if/when may end up being no/never, and no-one is going to be happy about it, least of all the developers and the QA testers.

It is so damn easy to break shit, but fixing it takes a lot of work and time and coordination if you want to do it right and not risk breaking a million other things.

Reason #13668893+316i why we are in this mess.

Democrats passed the affordable care act, passed the infrastructure bill, got rid of junk fees, lowered prescription costs, gave civil rights, protections, forgave student loans, etc.

Everything the republicans are doing is undoing the work of democrats. Yall would rather sit there on your flat asses and make these weakass centrist takes than actually have the courage to face what is happening with clarity.

But yall let these false ideas spread and become the common thought and you allow the fascist to creep in. The american apathy and aversion to the truth is why we are here!

#random ramblings #politics #politics shitshow 2025 #breaking shit is easy #fixing shit is hard and requires a lot of work and coordination #if you want to do it right and not break more shit along the way

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bendingreality · 2 days ago

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If He Picks Up

Hi! This is a day late for the first week of the @bucktommysummerfest. I messed up the dates, but better late than never, right? Next week will be on time!

I'll also be posting this on AO3 tomorrow!

Prompt: Angst with a Happy Ending

Rated: Teens and Above (some mention of Alcohol)

Tags: Evan “Buck” Buckley Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining But Also Mutual Idiocy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Found Family Failure, One Phone Call Changes Everything, Buck Spiraling, Buck Realizing Things™, Late Night Conversations

Hope you all enjoy!

Buck slams back another shot, grimacing before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burns, but it’s a dull kind of pain, the kind that feels deserved. He raises the empty glass when the bartender glances over. The man’s eyes settle on the row of empty glasses littering the bar in front of Buck before he walks over, brow creased with concern.

“How about I get you something to eat before the kitchen closes?” he says, placing a bottle of water down. “The loaded nachos are good.”

“Sure,” Buck slurs, tilting his head in confusion before pointing at the water. “That’s not tequila.”

“Good catch,” the bartender says dryly, twisting the cap off and handing it to Buck. “I’m going to have to cut you off, man. You got someone we can call to come get you once you finish those nachos?”

Buck shakes his head, mouth pulling into a bitter smile. “There isn’t a single person that cares enough to come. Especially now.”

The bartender leans in a little, voice quieter now. “No siblings, parents, friend?”

“They won’t come.” Buck’s voice wavers as he rolls the bottle between his palms, trying to still the trembling in his fingers. “They don’t want to deal with me.”

He swallows hard. The edges of everything feel too sharp—light, sound, the ache behind his eyes.

“I thought we were there for each other, but it turns out that they don’t agree.”

The bartender folds his arms, watching him carefully. Not judgmental, just… patient.

“Maybe they’ll surprise you?” the other man offers gently, leaning on the bar like he’s got all the time in the world.

Buck lets out a broken laugh, wet and sharp. “Didn’t tell anyone I was taking time off, just sent the request in to HQ. I haven’t seen, messaged, or called anyone in the last eight days. Haven’t answered a message on the group chats. And not a single one of them messaged to check in.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’ve been completely alone for eight days while I know they are all meeting up and going on with their lives.”

He sucks in a breath, exhales like it hurts. “And the part that really sucks is that there’s one person I know would come, but I can’t call him. I let them convince me not to reach out when I wanted to so bad… and then when we almost got back together, I fucked it up defending someone who I’m now realizing wouldn’t do the same for me... someone who doesn’t know me the way I thought he did. I let Tommy—who might just be the love of my life—walk away for someone who might not even be the friend I thought he was.”

The bartender stays quiet for a beat. Then he leans in a little closer.

“Well,” he says slowly, “if he’s really the love of your life… maybe you should call him anyway.”

Buck blinks at him, eyes glassy, bloodshot. “What if he doesn’t answer?”

“Then at least you’ll know. But what if he does?”

Buck stares down at the condensation building on the water bottle, the soft fizz of the bar fading into a dull thrum in his ears. For a moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

Then he pulls his phone out with trembling fingers. He opens Tommy’s contact and stares at the picture. His thumb hovers over the call button. The phone is smudged and sticky from earlier spilled drinks, and his hand shakes like hell.

He presses Call.

One ring. Two. Three—

“Evan?”

Buck’s eyes fall shut. He forgot how good Tommy’s voice sounded saying his name. Not Buck. Evan.

“Tommy,” Buck whispers. “I… I need you.”

A long silence.

“Where are you?”

Buck gives him the name of the bar and hears Tommy’s shaky breath on the other end.

“I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead.

Buck doesn’t know how long he sits there, barely touching the nachos when they arrive, sipping at the water the bartender made him promise to finish. His buzz is wearing off and the ache underneath is worse than the tequila’s burn.

The door swings open and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Tommy—there’s something in the shift of the air.

But he does look. Because he can’t not.

Tommy scans the bar, eyes wild until they land on him.

And then he’s moving.

He strides over, crowding Buck’s space, not touching but close enough to feel the heat of him. Buck looks up, eyes red-rimmed, jaw slack like he forgot how to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says immediately, voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up,” Tommy mutters, and then he’s pulling Buck into his arms, hugging him so tight it knocks the air out of Buck’s lungs. “You called. That’s all you ever need to do.”

Buck clutches the back of Tommy’s shirt like he might fall apart without something to hold.

“I missed you,” he breathes into Tommy’s neck. “God, I missed you.”

Tommy’s voice is thick. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you...of how we left things.”

“I should’ve called sooner.”

“I could’ve called, too.”

They pull back slightly, eyes searching. There’s anger and heartbreak between them, still raw. But there’s love too. So much love it’s almost unbearable.

“I don’t know what’s next,” Buck says, “but I don’t want to do any of it without you.”

Tommy cups his face, thumb brushing a tear off Buck’s cheek.

“Then don’t.”

And when their lips finally meet, it’s not desperate or messy. It’s soft. It’s grounding. It tastes like salt and tequila and something Buck hasn’t felt in a long time:

Home.

#bucktommy #tevan #bucktommysummerfest

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 11 hours ago

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BUT NEVER AGAIN

PAIRING : beau arlen x younger fem!reader

SUMMARY : beau sees reader for the first time since he disowned her, on their anniversary of all days, and she isn’t alone.

WARNINGS : age gap. strong language. angst. fluff. smut. unprotected p in v. rough sex. pregnancy sex. makeup sex. semi-pubic sex. creampie. cockwarming. dom!beau. sub!reader. pregnant!reader. daddy!kink (if you squint). size kink. maiesiophilia. physical altercation. jealous!beau. slightly corrupt!sheriff.

A/N : just wanna start off with i’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to take as long as it did. i have plenty of valid reasons as to why but the cutest one was each time i opened my laptop to write, my cat would hear and wander over to lay on the keyboard and my lap, refusing to get up. and if i dared try moving him, he’d bite me then go back to cuddling. anyways, i hope y’all enjoy the final part of this mini-series! (kind) thoughts are always appreciated.

You couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be happening. It had to have been a mistake. Why would God ever play such a cruel joke on you? After everything you’ve gone through with Beau, this was the last thing you needed. The irony was evident: You wanted nothing to do with your ex, and now you were pregnant with his child.

Fucking shit. You were filled with a mix of emotions: happy, sad, panic, excitement, to name a few. You dreamt of having Beau’s children. Who wouldn’t? He was a great man and, as far as you could tell, a great father. With everything going on, you weren’t sure what to do, but if one thing was certain, you were keeping it.

The problem wasn’t questioning what you’d do with your offspring’s life. No, the issue was your indecisiveness about whether to tell Beau or not. After all, he made his choice. He was ashamed and disowned you, so why would he want a pregnant you? Would you really give him a chance to disown your baby too?

But would he? Would he really want nothing to do with you or the product of love that was growing inside you? Or what if you told him and he only wanted you because of the baby? Too many thoughts were running through your head, making you dizzy. You gripped the bathroom countertop and closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath.

I just need a sign, you thought. Any sign that tells me if I should tell Beau. Suddenly, your phone rang, causing you to jump in surprise. You looked at the device and your heart quickened with rage. It was your ex-cowboy—your sign. Fuck that!

You had hit the end call button, refusing to speak with him. Really, God? So not funny! You weren’t amused at the sign He sent you, and you weren’t going to listen either. Maybe that was your sign. Knowing how you truly felt when the opportunity to tell the sheriff arose.

After throwing the test in the trash, you walked to your bedroom. This can’t be happening. You climbed into bed and wrapped your body with your duvet, wishing, deep down, it was Beau’s warm embrace. The room was pitch black, the perfect setting to fall into a peaceful slumber, but you couldn’t sleep. No, the news of your unborn baby kept you up. You just wanted to talk to someone, and you hated that that someone happened to be Beau.

A week had passed, but not a moment when Beau didn’t try to win you back, and you certainly didn’t make it easy. You refused to answer his calls or texts, not that he blamed you. So, every morning since his conversation with Emily, he stopped by your work, hoping to get a chance to see you. When he didn’t, which was no surprise, he’d leave your favorite meal, and the most gorgeous roses the florist had to offer with one of your coworkers, instructing that they pass them along. Each bouquet came with a handwritten note, and despite your many warnings, you couldn’t resist reading each and every one.

I’m so sorry, princess. I was stupid and an idiot—a stupid idiot. Please forgive me.

Sweetheart, please call me.

I’m not giving you up, darlin’.

I’ll make it up to you. I’m gonna make this right. For us. I promise.

There’ll never be a moment when you’re not on my mind, sweetpea. I need you more and more.

I love & miss you more than you know, angel.

I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on you. Happy Anniversary, beautiful.

If he hadn’t disowned you, his attempts would’ve worked. Your heart wanted to let him in, but you knew better since he broke the very thing you told him not to. It was hard getting over a man like Beau, though you had no choice but to. For weeks, you were a complete wreck over him. However, as time passed, you began to heal. That was until the shock of your pregnancy.

Every reminder of him made your decision harder and harder. You so desperately wanted to tell Beau the truth. There were signs everywhere but you were too damn stubborn to listen. You knew you had to face him sooner or later, and you prayed it was the latter. But as your luck would have it, it was the former.

It was your anniversary, or what would’ve been if you were still together. Your heart was heavy and your body was weak, but you couldn’t call in to work again, especially when you had to train the new hire. So, on the rarest of warm days in early Spring, you put on your favorite summer dress, one you won’t admit was also Beau’s favorite. It was long & flowy, hugging you in just the right places while showing a tasteful amount of cleavage. If you were going to move on from the sheriff, you needed to enjoy the day instead of wallowing in it, and if putting on a nice dress helped, then so be it.

It was almost half past noon meaning your lunch break was coming up; Beau knew it like clockwork. Deciding to get out of the office, you asked Wren, the new associate, if he wanted to accompany you. He was new to town and didn’t know any good spots so you thought you’d be nice. He happily agreed, so you drove to your favorite brunch spot. The only downside was that it was down the street from Dewell & Hoyt Private Investigations, a place your ex-cowboy frequently visited.

Sure, it was risky but you had to rise above. And what were the chances that he happened to be on that side of town as you were? Being the Sheriff, he had more important things going on than keeping his eyes peeled for you everywhere he went...or so you thought. Beau jogs out of their office the second he catches a glimpse of your vehicle. His heart skips a beat as you and Wren exit your vehicle, and he can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first time he’s seen you in three weeks, or if it’s because some man, closer in age, is with you.

He knew this day might come but not this soon. Not when he hasn’t shown you that he’s changed. Not when your last memory of him is heartbreaking. Not while his heart still beat for you. You walk toward the diner and the cowboy’s feet move faster than they ever have before. As if it were slow motion, Wren begins to pull the door open just as Beau’s large hand wraps around your arm.

Instinctively, you pull out of the grasp before you even turn to see that it’s him. And when you do, your eyes widen in surprise. The very possibility of bumping into him materialized before you, and yet, here he stands—unexpected and undeniable. The father of your child. Fuck!

You take a few steps back, baffled that he had the nerve to touch you. “Sweetheart—”

“No. We’re not doing this.”

“Please, darlin’, I need to talk to you.”

His hand goes for yours but you move it away. “Damn it, Beau. No! I don’t want to hear it. Just go on somewhere.”

“But, Y/N, I—” He moves closer, eyes filled with so much emotion you could melt.

Wren steps in between you, unfamiliar with the situation yet brave enough to do so. Intrepidly, he reminds your ex, “Hey, man. She said she doesn’t want to talk.”

Beau’s attention shifts to the man before him, brows drawn together and eyes darker. “Excuse me?”

“You heard her: Leave her alone.”

The cowboy scoffs, amused by the pair the stranger seemed to have. Who the fuck does he think he is? He thought. “Listen, buddy, it’s best you just stay the hell out of our business.”

“I will when you walk away.”

Your ex takes a step closer, a daring look in his eyes. You know that look, and it’s dangerous. As your heart increases rapidly, you move around Wren and try adding distance between the two, but neither man moves.

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s just go inside.” You encourage your associate.

Beau’s forehead wrinkles. He’s determined to tell you that he came clean to Emily. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

His hand reaches toward your waist but Wren stops the Sheriff before he can make contact. The younger man shoves Johnny Law, warning him not to touch you. Beau stumbles back, completely caught off guard. An audible gasp leaves your lips; You hadn’t expected the escalation.

Your ex’s once chartreuse eyes turn to a forest green. He steps forward and Wren shoves him again, telling him something neither of you hears. His nostrils flare with rage and you can see the logic and law slip from his mind. Oh, shit... Before you can say a word, you witness Beau’s fist collide with his opponent’s jaw.

The impact makes an audible sound, one you feel in your bones. Wren’s body twists in the direction he was punched, nearly falling from the hard blow. With his balance compromised, he teeters back and forth, surely fighting unconsciousness and you’re shocked it wasn’t a swift knockout. He was a tall and lean male, just taller than your child’s father with a similar build. If you weren’t so hung up on your cowboy you would see how handsome Wren really was.

“You fucker,” The young man spits, swaying slightly.

He lunges forward and tackles the sheriff, nearly taking you down with them. You leap out of the way, fear coursing through your body at the possibility of your baby getting hurt. They wrestle on the ground while you stand back, watching with panicked eyes. Wren delivers a sucker punch to your ex’s cheek and though he deserves it—Lord knows as much—you can’t bear to see Beau hurt.

“Stop it!” You frantically cry.

The cowboy grabs the civilian and flips them over so he’s on top. He’s quick to strike the guy’s pretty face, again and again. Wren grunts in pain and it shatters your heart. You can tell he’s surprised at Beau’s strength as he struggles to break free of his hold. Though you’re terrified to get hit, you refuse to let the fight continue.

“Beau!” You run over and see your associate’s swollen and bloody face. “Beau, stop!” It’s risky but you try catching his flailing arm. “Get off of him!”

Whether it’s the growing crowd or your helpless tugs, maybe even both, Beau ceases the abuse. He rises from the beaten man, panting heavily. He reaches for his cuffs, shouting at Wren to turn over. The sun shines on the brass clipped to the sheriff’s belt and reflects into Wren’s eyes. He sees the badge and immediately curses to himself, knowing he was fucked.

“Now!”

“Okay, okay.” He lifts his hands in surrender and does as he’s told.

Beau immediately wraps Wren’s wrists and with ease, yanks him up from the ground. This isn’t right, you thought. He didn’t know. He was just trying to help me. Your ex escorts the new worker to his vehicle and you follow closely behind.

“Let him go!” You demand. “He didn’t know any better.”

“Sweetheart, stay outta this,” Beau warns sternly.

“No, this is my business, too!”

“We’ll talk later.”

“The hell we are—let him go!”

He opens the rear passenger door and damn near shoves the ‘criminal’ in. The cowboy walks around the front of his Defender and hops into the driver’s seat. You pound on his door, loudly insisting that he free your coworker. Instead, he starts his vehicle and tries his hardest to pay you no mind. He’s almost convinced to let the guy go on your behalf, but he just can’t. So, he speeds off.

You rush to your car, and as soon as you get in, you scream. You scream because of his fight with Wren. You scream because luck was never on your side. You scream because of all the days to see your ex, it had to be on your anniversary. You scream because you’re pregnant with his child. You scream because you realize how much you aren’t over him. You scream because you know if you don’t, you’ll cry.

With a deep breath, you race to the station. By the time you get there Wren’s in lockup, and Beau’s in his office. You aren’t sure if it’s your natural rage or the added hormones but your body was on fire and everyone you passed could see it too. The workers within the station come to a halt, seeing you beeline straight to the Sheriff to unleash some much-deserved wrath. However, one individual makes the mistake of stepping out in front of you.

“He’s busy right now. You’ll have to come back another time,” says Sargent Crowders.

“Fuck off, Madge.” You order and storm past her.

He heard you as soon as you entered the station, your heels clattering angrily against the tile floor. He knew he was in for it but he was ready. Or at least he thought so. He discarded his jacket on the back of his chair, the heat from his anger causing him to shed it. Too upset to sit at his desk, he stood as he waited for the background check on Wren to come through and for you.

“Let him out now!” You command the moment you enter his office.

“‘Can’t.”

“Like hell, you can’t! You’re the sheriff, or did you forget when you were beating the shit out of that poor man?”

He walks past you and calls from the doorframe, “Everybody, leave.”

“But, boss—” Poppernak begins but Beau interrupts.

“NOW!” His voice makes you flinch unexpectedly. You had never heard his voice reach that octave before. “All of you, get the hell out. And be back in 20.”

Everyone shuffles to the front doors, leaving you two alone. He walks back in and silently closes both doors to his space. He shuts each blind before hitting his mark beside his chair. His eyes are the same darkened color as they were earlier. You wait for him to speak before you counter.

“You know I respect you—”

“Oh, please!”

“But I would never tell you how to do your job so don’t tell me how to do mine.”

He had a fair point but you were too prideful and stubborn to admit it.

“He was just protecting me.”

“From who? Me?” He asks, his voice growing louder. “You know I would never hurt you.”

You scoff and the sound hits him right in the chest. “I’ve heard that lie before.”

“It isn't a lie.”

“Right..so tell me why we aren’t celebrating our eight-month anniversary again.”

He shakes his head in disgust at his regrettable actions. “Because I’m stupid.”

“That’s one word for it,” you murmur.

“I made a horrible mistake. Hell, mistakes, and there will never be enough apologies to reflect how sorry I am but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You roll your eyes but it strikes your heart. Damn it, Y/N, get it together.

“Don’t bother. I’m done giving you chances. After you kicked me out then pretended not to know me!” The memories are still fresh and it hits you harder today. “You deserve to have your ass handed to you.”

“You’re right.” He admits. “But you know I can’t let him go. He assaulted a sheriff.”

“You’re the one who threw the first punch! And plenty after. You’re supposed to be the sheriff and you abused your power. You could lose your job!”

He sighs in defeat. You’re right. This hadn’t been the first time he’d roughed someone up but it was the first time he’d had witnesses. He could lose his new permanent position. After he convinced Carla to stay in Montana with Emily, he accepted the offer and then met you.

“That’s…something I’ll have to deal with later but right now, all I want to do is talk to you.”

“We have nothing else to talk about unless it’s regarding Wren walking out of here today.”

He glances at the floor, a sly smirk involuntarily tugging at the corner of his mouth before licking his lips to mask it. His eyes lift from the ground and focus on you. God, she's so stubborn. He pauses, thinking it over. He knows he shouldn’t but he’ll do anything to repair your relationship. So, if that meant bending the rules and releasing the man who attacked him then so be it. Though envy influenced his actions, he knew he was wrong. He shouldn’t have reacted the way he did towards the young man.

“I’ll make you a deal,” He piques your interest, but you remain wary. “I’ll let him go after we talk.”

You hesitate but agree. “Fine. Talk.”

“Do you want to sit?” He offers you his large, comfortable chair, but you decline.

“No, I’m good here.”

“Okay,” He clears his throat, suddenly nervous despite his consistent daydreams about this very moment. “I know it’s probably too late, but I told Emily and Carla about you. About us.”

Your heart dares to jump excitedly, but your brain frowns against it. Did he expect you to applaud? Did he want a medal for doing what every boyfriend should’ve done from the start? For once, he’s right: It’s too late. But was it? Deep down, you don’t want it to be, especially with your growing fetus.

“And?”

“And I was foolish. It was all in my head, and to an extent, you were right. I was ashamed; Not of you, but of our age difference. I was scared I’d risk losing Emily when I should’ve thought of you, too. I know a daughter and an ex-wife wasn’t something you signed up for, and part of that turned into fear, that one day you’d wake up and realize you didn’t want me anymore.

“What if you want things I might not be able to give you? Hell, I don’t even know if I can produce any more kids. And I’m only getting older. What if that’s something that affects our decision to marry? To buy a house and live together. I was scared that if you had met the girls, you’d break Emily’s heart if you chose to leave. Most of all, I was scared I wasn’t good enough for you. And after all I’ve done to hurt you, I realized you’re better off without me. Lord knows I don’t want to lose you, but if moving on is what you need...well, I’ll love you even if you can’t ever love me again.”

You’re left speechless. All the anger, all the words, the hurt, and betrayal, suddenly fly out the window. You should be upset that your fire’s been extinguished by his honest and powerful words. Part of yourself curses your ability to be easily swooned. You stare into his precious green orbs, and a thought occurs: I hope our baby has his eyes. And you realize you’ve found your sign.

With a neutral face, you walk toward your cowboy and he swallows nervously. He isn’t sure what you’re going to do. It’s cute—satisfying even—that you make him so vulnerable. You halt before him, your eyes searching his for any sign of lies. When you can’t find any, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him toward you.

Your lips gently meet his, moving in a soft yet firm dance. His shock paralyzes him for a moment; He didn’t expect this. Without wasting another beat, he kisses you back. All those weeks apart, all the pain, ignites a familiar spark. With much regret, you break away. He stares into your doe eyes, falling even deeper in love.

“I’ve never stopped.” A smile spreads on his handsome face, and you fear you’ll wipe it off after you come clean. All right, now or never. “About the concern of your reproduction...I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

His brows furrow. I don’t get...Wait. Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Is she..? You see the wheels turn in his beautiful head. So, with a grin upon your pretty face, you confirm his suspicion.

“I’m pregnant.”

The air in his lungs vanishes as if he had been struck hard in the gut. His mind races, and so does his heart. He hadn’t expected this news, maybe ever again but here you were, the love of his life, telling him you’re pregnant with his unborn child. He stands frozen again, making you worry just slightly.

Oh, no. He’s upset. He doesn’t want any more babies, your mind automatically assumes. Suddenly, he breaks free from the block of ice and wraps his arms around you. He sweeps you off the ground, spinning you joyfully in a whirl of laughter, his delight infectious as you both revel in the moment.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s the best news I’ve heard since Carla told me about Emily.” He puts you down, grabs your arms loosely, and looks at your small belly. “How are you feeling? Have you gone to the OB yet? How far along are you?”

“I’m fine. I’ll see them in a few days to find out. Wanna come with?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll be at every appointment.”

His large hand cups your cheek and he stares into your eyes. Oh, how he’s missed you. You lean into his touch, missing him just as much. Now that he has you again, he isn’t letting you go. So, he sets his lips on yours and takes his sweet time, enamored by the way your mouth responds to his.

He pulls you in closer, pressing your body against his. His right hand rests on your lower back, but as your kisses get deeper, he glides it over the curve of your bottom. His left slips into your hair and cradles the back of your neck while his other hand squeezes your plump cheek; A move he often made when he wanted more. You aren’t opposed. Hell, you thought about calling him a few times over your break just so he could fuck you.

He spins you around, shoving his chair away, and backs you into his messy desk, your thighs leaning against the edge. You know he wants you just as much as you want him. The butterflies migrate to your fanny, begging to be set free by the only key you’ll ever allow to enter your keyhole again. He attacks your neck, kissing, licking, and biting just how you like it. You can’t help the moans falling from your swollen lips but they only spur him further.

The Sheriff kisses the top of your breasts, his beard hair tickling your skin. You want to laugh being as ticklish as you are but the moment he pulls down your strap, the support for your chest falling with it, and takes your sensitive nipple into his warm mouth, you melt. His expert tongue swirls around it, and when his teeth sink in, your body shivers. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his head, and your fingers tug on his perfect hair. The hand perched on your ass moves past your hip, down to the back of your knee, and pulls your leg toward his waist. His free arm wraps around your back, holding you steady. He gingerly sucks your growing boobs, and you can feel the bruises forming.

“Fuck, princess, I want you so bad,” His husky voice murmurs against your chest. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You whimper at his words. The hold he has over you is so unhealthy. What can you say, you were a sucker for that cowboy. The pool between your legs begs to be swum in, and you know from experience that he’s an excellent swimmer. So, who are you to deny the wants and needs of your body?

“Fine,” you cave. “But don’t think I’ve forgiven you just yet.”

“‘Course not. I’ll happily spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

“Your life,” you joke, lifting the mood.

He chuckles, the crow’s feet around his eyes making their dashing appearance. “Yes. My life. Thank you for reminding me how much older I am.”

You gently hold his head, guiding it closer to yours, to place a soft, tender kiss on the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. The warmth of your lips lingers there, evoking a shiver of pleasure that travels through him. He groans, desperate for more. “You’ll feel young again when you’re chasing our kid around our house.”

He smiles widely at the imagery. “‘Can’t wait.”

“But for now, I need you inside my guts.”

His dick twitches at your request and the tug your teeth deliver to his earlob. “Whatever you want, darlin’.”

You unhook your leg from around his hip so he can kneel before you. He lifts your dress and you take the fabric from his hands, keeping it out of his way. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your drenched panties and he slowly peels them down your legs. You bite your lip in anticipation; He knew you hated taking things slow. When you wanted him, you wanted him right away, with no time to waste.

His lecherous eyes linger on your glistening folds, desperately wanting to devour you, but his need to be in you is stronger. The moment you step out of the soaked underwear, his mouth trails wet kisses up your thighs. Your fingers clutch the strands of his long hair as his lips travel over your hip. When they brush over your abdomen you gaze down at your boyfriend. He presses a light peck to your bump before warning the small fetus.

“‘Sorry, kid. Daddy’s gonna love on Mommy for a bit. ‘Better hold on tight.”

You giggle softly, but the sound quickly fades as he stands before you. A single glance into his deep, intense eyes sends a wave of eros throughout your warm body, leaving you utterly captivated. He holds your gaze, drawing you into a hypnotic trance, and without a second thought, you find yourself reaching for his collar, yanking him close to you. The world around you blurs, and the kisses that follow are urgent and passionate, filled with a raw intensity that makes them feel rushed and almost chaotic, but thrilling all the same. You aren’t sure if it’s the hormones or the desperate longing you’ve had since he was last between your legs but you’ve never wanted him more than in this moment.

Your fingers fly to his button-up and you swiftly undo each one before running your hands up and down his smooth and chiseled chest. Oh, how you missed him, all of him. They move to his Longhorn buckle, unfastening it with ease before reaching for his badge. You yank off his heavy belt and blindly toss both on the leather chair. His tongue explores your mouth as you unzip his jeans, your bodies grow hotter by the second, the anticipation nearly overwhelming.

You shove his pants down, liberating his well-endowed cock from its restraints. Beau reaches behind you and pushes the clutter aside, making room for you on his desk. He leans you back, your legs immediately wrapping around his hips. You break the kiss with a pathetic whimper as his hardened member skims along your inner thigh. He slithers his hand between you and grabs hold of his enlarged gourd. He rubs it through your wet folds, lathering his dick in your juice. Before you have a chance to vocalize your impatience, he aligns himself with your pulsing entrance. Your heels dig into the dimples at the bottom of his spine, urging him in.

Beau presses his swollen tip into your small hole and your breath hitches. He moves forward but your body rejects him. It’s been weeks since he last stretched you out, reverting to how it was before him. His brows pinch together, watching as your body refuses his thick limb. He thrusts again, this time sliding in further.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight,” He huffs as he forces himself deeper.

“Mhmmm...”

You couldn’t talk. Not just because it hurt too much to speak but because you felt all the pleasure that also came with it. He tells you to relax and you try your hardest. You can’t help yourself; It hurts so good. With each thrust, you accept him more than you did before.

“Just like that, princess. Open up for Daddy.”

His words nearly make you drool. You hadn’t called him that before, thinking it would be too weird as you were closer in age to his daughter than you were to him. But the way he says it makes you want to call him that more often, sexual or not. You nod, easing up on the vice grip your walls had around him. It didn’t take him long before he bottoms out and you’re squirming underneath him.

His thrusts are relentless. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping skin, as if you’re being punished when really, you’re being rewarded. You don’t have to ask him to go faster or deeper because he already is. Like a madman, he digs his pickaxe further into your cave. He forces your insides to conform around him. Hell, he’d rearrange your guts if your child wasn’t already harbored within.

Beau’s chest brushes against yours as one hand holds onto the edge of his desk while the other wraps around your shoulders. His fingers claim a death grip while yours clutch the fabric of his shirt. You hold on for dear life, your legs trembling around him. The objects around you bounce to the rhythm of your boyfriend’s hips, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re questioning the sturdiness of the mahogany table. Your moans flood his ears, loud and whiny. They grow stronger and more consistent when his abdomen rubs against your sensitive clit.

The pleasure becomes too much to bear. You hadn’t expected to last long but the way your cowboy grinds on you brings you closer to your climax than intended. If he were any other man, you would have felt embarrassed, but given your history with Beau, you feel a sense of satisfaction. Only he can get you there as quickly as you deserve, and after he’s hurt you, it seems to be quicker. Maybe makeup sex is the best kind of sex.

He grunts in your ear, only turning you on further. His breathy moans make you forget what he’d ever done. Beau was never shy about making noise, reminding you you’re responsible for each and every one. His face scrunches, and you know he’s as close as you. Your eyes roll back and so does your head as you near sheer ecstasy.

Struggling to get the words out, you stutter through, “I-I’m g-gon-na, oh, fuck—”

“Me too, baby,” His lips brush against your ear, purring the words that send you over the edge. “Cum for Daddy.”

You let out a ferocious scream, a primal sound that echoed through the room, one you had never unleashed before. It tears from your throat as the knot in your belly finally snaps, releasing a surge of raw emotion that had been building inside you for far too long. The tension that had gripped you so tightly unravels, leaving you breathless and trembling, as wave after wave crashes around Beau’s solid member. Your convulsions summon his release, so with a halt of his hips and a twitch from his cock, he spews his hot load into your spent cunt. A feral shout rips from the depths of his core, a noise that surprises even himself.

The Sheriff resists collapsing on you like he usually did after a round of intercourse, refusing to apply weight to your growing belly. Your chests heave quickly, your lungs desperately gasping for air. The office is so quiet, you swear you can hear the rhythm of your hearts beating as one. He captures your lips in a kiss, commanding the butterflies to flutter once again. The world fades around you leaving only the intensity of the moment.

The kiss lingers on the edge of breathlessness, leaving you wondering why you came here to begin with. He withdraws his luscious lips and you softly whimper, craving more. You dive into the pools of his enchanting eyes the second you open yours, all of your problems drowning the deeper you swim. He tucks his head in the crook of your neck, breaking the spell he held you in only to place you under another when he begins peppering your exposed skin with tiny kisses. You both lay in a comfortable silence, basking in the blissful aftermath of your physical and emotional unity as your nails lightly trace up and down his back.

“That was...wow.” He breathes.

You chuckle, quipping, “You have such a way with words.”

Beau snorts. He raises his head and a lazy smirk forms, his eyes raking over your countenance. “I got in between your legs, didn’t I?”

“For that, you can get out.”

“S’alright. I got what I wanted anyway.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You, pregnant.”

Those two words went straight to your stuffed pussy.

“That so?” You struggle to ask calmly.

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I want a kid that’s half you? You’re everything and more. I can’t wait to tell everyone.” Your heart melts and his eyes glance at your fleshy mountains above it. “Fuck, darlin’, the thought of my seed growing inside you does things to a man.”

You want to slap him for ruining the sweet moment but you’re too turned on to do so. He lifts himself off of you, careful not to pull out. Beau stares down at your small bump, his impure thoughts untamed. Just maybe, if he said them aloud, he could get another round before everyone returned. The way your breath hitches tells him all he needs.

“You’re gonna look so sexy with a swollen belly. I don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off you. You’re gonna be one smokin’ mom. ‘Think I might just keep you pregnant after this one.” He grabs the top of your thighs, pulling you towards the edge of the desk. One by one, he lifts your legs and leans them against his strong chest. He turns his head and presses tender kisses to your right ankle, sending tingling sensations down your legs, and straight to your core. In between pecks, he asks, “How’s that sound, sweetheart?”

You barely register the question as he switches his attention to your other ankle. He chuckles when you murmur something incoherently agreeable.

He can’t help but mock, “You have such a way with words.”

Beau’s kisses halt and he looks at you with dark eyes. You squeeze his hardening dick and in return, he pushes deeper, his bellend brushing your shut cervix. He forces a whimper out of your pretty little mouth, and it drives you both feral. The fire in your tummy reignites and you bite your lip with anticipation. You want him so bad, you don’t care who walks in. His hands secure at your hips and you brace at the new angle, ready for more.

With your arms comfortably propped against his desk, you lean back with a satisfied smile, watching as the hot sheriff tucks himself back into his jeans. The office was quiet except for the occasional and distant ring of the abandoned phones. You should have been ashamed for being apathetic to those calling but your selfishness thrives on the euphoria Beau brought to you moments before. Coming here—in more ways than one—to mend things was the last thing on your mind but you aren’t disappointed with how they turned out. He begins to button his shirt from the bottom up when he notices you staring.

“See something you like?”

“Yes, sir.” Your lip tucks between your sharp teeth, nearly drawing blood. Despite having him twice already, you could go for a third. “Something I really, really, like.”

His fingers fall from his shirt and a devilish smirk makes a broad appearance on his irresistibly handsome face.

He steps between your thighs and leans closer as his sultry voice remarks, “Sounds like you’ve got a problem, princess.”

“I sure do...Daddy.”

His eyebrow raises, and so does his package. “What’d’ya gonna do about it?”

“I would show you but I don’t think you could handle another round.”

“Oh, sweetheart, when have I ever stopped at two with you?” Beau rhetorically questions before seizing your lips.

His mouth moves in sync with yours but he’s damn near ravenous. You moan into the urgent kiss, slightly taken aback by his hunger. It was as if you hadn’t done it twice in the last twenty minutes, a record for him. Sure he’s right, he didn’t stop at two rounds, hell, there’ve been days you never left the bedroom, but there was time between each copulation. His thick fingers run through your hair and massage your scalp, turning your brain to mush. Your arms envelope his torso in a warm embrace, longing for the moment to stretch into eternity, wishing never to let go again.

It had surpassed the 20-minute limit that Beau hadn’t given to his subordinates. They waited outside and would’ve enjoyed the nice weather had it not been for the way the Sheriff had exploded. Despite the copious amount of stress that came with the job, Beau had never reacted in such a way, which caused them all to worry. Everyone had formed small circles, talking amongst themselves about what was happening in the office. Little did they know...

Jenny pulls up to the station and her brows furrow once she sees the individuals. What in the hell..? She throws her ‘96 Bronco into park, her eyes narrow as she scans the crowd for Poppernak after rounding the vehicle. His back faces her but she instantly recognizes her partner. As she walks closer, he hears her boots against the pavement and spins around with a relieved smile.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Y/N. She showed up with hell to pay. They’re in there right now, going at it.”

“How long have they been in there?”

“Just under half an hour,” The detective nods, trying to piece together if that was enough time for you to kill him and hide his body. “The boss said to come back after twenty but we’re all too scared to go in before she comes out. I don’t want to get yelled at again.”

She huffs in slight amusement. “Do you want me to check?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me ma’am?”

“Sorry, ma—Hoyt.”

Jenny turns on her heel with a roll of her eyes. She walks up the steps and past the glass doors. It was quiet which made her wary. She figured the first interaction since that shameful day would involve yelling but nope. Just silence. A sick feeling set in her stomach. Maybe she had killed him, she thought.

Mo felt guilty for letting his partner go into the belly of the beast alone so he worked up the courage to follow after her. Jenny tiptoed through the station, not wanting to disrupt what may or may not be happening. He takes larger steps and catches up with her quickly, being just as quiet. She hears his heavy and nervous breathing, chuckling to herself. How can a man of his size be afraid of anything?

Then, there it was: The Sheriff’s office. They notice both doors and blinds are closed. This can’t be good. The Deputies shuffle closer and peer into the window of the door, past the vinyl lettering on the tempered glass. Beau’s lips attack your bruised neck and your body arches into his.

Their eyes widen as they watch the intimate scene before them. Your moans shove past the door and fill more than your cowboy’s ears. Poppernak gulps and his body goes hot; This wasn’t what he expected, and neither did Hoyt. She awkwardly chuckles but doesn’t tear her gaze away.

“Well, you weren’t kidding about them going at it.” Before he can respond, she knocks on the door, louder than normal, startling you. You jump while Beau slumps his shoulders. She pushes the door open and says with a sarcastic cheer, “I see you two made up.”

Beau sighs with great annoyance then straightens with a look matching his exhale. Your face blushes bright red, completely embarrassed yet thankful they hadn’t interrupted any sooner. But Jenny knew otherwise. The disheveled clothes, the messy hair, the faint smell of sex, the marks on each of your skins, the reason why the doors and blinds were closed to his office—it all added up. As soon as his partner opened the Sheriff’s door, his eyes stayed glued to the floor.

“What’d’ya want?” The handsome man beside you grumbles.

“Well, I was just wondering if everyone can come back and do their jobs, that is if you guys are done in here.”

You push your dress past your knees and hop down from the desk. Beau wraps his arm around your waist, holding you upright, knowing your legs are bound to give out on you. And he was most certainly right. They tremble underneath your weight but you hide it well. He gives you a look only you know and understand: Are you okay? You nod with a reassuring smile, once again, getting lost in his enchanting eyes until Jenny clears her throat.

“Sorry—Yeah, we’re finished.” You reply.

“Great. I’ll let ‘em know.” She closes the door behind her and takes Mo with her.

You grumble as you bury your flushed face in his naked chest. “Oh my gosh, that was so embarrassing.”

He rubs circles into your aching back, trying his best to comfort you. “I know, at least it wasn’t worse.”

“What would you have done if they came five minutes earlier?”

His brows draw together, glancing at you in question as he confidently answers, “If you’re asking if I would’ve stopped, the answer’s no.”

With a startled gasp, you snap your head towards his and witness his composed expression. He isn’t joking. Your laughter fills the room, instantly settling your nerves. The Sheriff cracks a smile; Oh, how he’s missed you. He was a fool for ever pushing you away and he’ll spend the rest of his life regretting the time he pushed you away. The station begins to fill with bodies, along with a light chaotic chatter, bringing you back to reality.

“I should call my boss. Tell ‘em the sheriff beat up our new hire.” You kid.

He rolls his eyes with a sly grin. “Tell him Wren wasn’t the only pussy I beat up today.”

“Beau Arlen!” Your face flushes at his quip. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, darlin’.”

Wren sat on the steel bench, cursing himself for letting another pretty girl get him into trouble. Footsteps echo down the corridor, grasping his attention enough to whip his head toward the exit. His shoulders slump in solace the moment you walk in but it doesn’t last long. His muscles tighten and his jaw locks in place as he shoots a fiery glare at the sheriff, anger crackling in the air between them. You could cut the tension with a knife and you hated it; It was all a misunderstanding, not that it mattered now.

Beau sighs in defeat as he takes the cellar keys from his pocket. A deal was a deal, and if he’s being honest, he got the better end of it: You. He inserts the key into the lock, and with hesitation to unlock it, he glances at you for assurance. You stare at him with expectant eyes and he knows he has to turn it. With a click, the cell unlocks and he slides it open.

“All right, you’re free to go.”

The inmate’s eyes dart between the two of you, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

You gaze at your boyfriend, and ask, “Could you give us a minute?”

He was wary; He didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with the man who attacked him. He didn’t know him and neither did you. How bad could he be if he willingly defended you? You can practically feel Beau’s apprehensiveness, more now that you’re carrying his child.

“Please.”

He nods with reluctance. If he so much as lays a hand on her... “I’ll be right outside.”

You give your undivided attention to your coworker, wearing a look of sorrow. “Listen—”

“Let me guess,” He strolls from behind the bars toward you. “He’s your jealous ex-boyfriend who you’ve been avoiding, but then he sees you with me, unleashes his anger on my face, and now you’re sorry.”

That’s pretty spot on. “Yeah—”

“You could’ve told me he was the damn sheriff.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to—!” You pause and exhale softly. “Look, I talked to him and he isn’t gonna press any charges, and I really hope you don’t either. I don’t know what came over him, and I’m not excusing how he handled the situation, but he’s a good man.”

“What’s your deal with him?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, confused by the question. “Huh?”

“Just an hour ago, you were demanding he leave you alone and now you’re team Arlen.”

“I—I just, I know he regrets what he did and I don’t want this one mistake to ruin his career.”

“So those hickeys on your neck didn’t influence your change of heart?” Your hand flies to Beau’s canvas, your face growing hot with embarrassment. You totally forgot, but your cowboy sure didn’t. “‘Thought so.”

“It’s not like that. We just, we finally talked, and I’m sorry it came at your expense but please don’t punish him because of me. I never meant for you to get involved and if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I will.”

His eyes scan your countenance, finding only sincerity. He kicks himself; It isn’t your fault that he ended up in a jail cell on his first day of work, at least not all of it.

“Can you fix my face?”

“And take away how badass you look? Nuh uh.” You chuckle whilst praying your persuasion works. “Taking on a sheriff...the girls are gonna be all over you, don’t you worry.”

“Ya think so?”

“‘Course. Everyone loves a bad boy.”

Wren grins, now content with his swelling eye, bruised cheek, and fat lip. “You better be right.”

You were.

A week had passed since you and Beau made up. He took a few days off work and focused on you and your relationship moving forward. You both went to the baby’s first ultrasound and found out you were nearly two months pregnant. The look on your partner’s face was the happiest you’d ever seen. A memory you’d never forget.

From the moment you mentioned you were expecting, he hadn’t shut up about it. He was so proud to be the father of your child. He’d talk about how to raise it, his hopes of it looking and acting just like you, and that he couldn’t wait for Emily to be a big sister. He wanted to call her the day he found out but you both agreed it was best to meet formally first. You didn’t want to overwhelm her; After all, one could argue that you and Beau were moving too fast. Though, neither of you had seen it that way.

The Sheriff had talked of marriage plans, wanting to—legally—keep you forever. You’d be honored to be made his wife, but you didn’t want to upset his daughter by rushing it. So, you each decided to wait until after she adjusted to your relationship and her new sibling. He adored you, even more so, having put Emily’s feelings first. From that moment moving forward, he vowed never to fuck up again.

You were outside of Beau’s trailer in your prettiest dress, setting up the table with four plates, four utensils, and four cups while he cooked on his George Foreman. Despite your efforts to buy him a real, big boy grill, he refused. It was a big day; You were finally meeting Carla and Emily. He looked over and saw the tremble in your hands. ‘Nervous’ didn’t begin to cover how you truly felt.

“Sweetheart,” He pulls you into an embrace, kissing your shoulder as a comfort. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“What if they don’t like me? What i-if they ask you to break up with me? Oh, gosh, my baby isn’t going to have a father—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it. I would never leave you, just like they’d never ask. They’re going to love you. You hear me?”

He had cupped your face as he assured you, shooing away the tears that formed in your pretty eyes. You nodded softly, letting the words sink in. Maybe he’s right, maybe they’ll love you. With a deep breath, you blinked the tears away, refusing to listen to the doubtful thoughts that haunted your mind. Beau pulled your forehead towards his lips and delivered a lingering peck.

The gravel underneath Carla’s tires crunched as she drove toward the trailer. Emily was ecstatic to meet you properly, as her father’s girlfriend, but her mother...not so much. Sure she had moved on but the thought of her ex-husband involved with a younger girl made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t call it jealousy; She wanted him to be happy, like she was with Avery, but did it have to be with someone half his age? And when the sheriff moved out of the way and she finally saw you, a sliver of envy pierced her heart: You were beautiful.

Your own pounded against your ribcase; There they were. It was time. Beau took your hand and he squeezed it as a reminder that you weren’t alone. They exited the vehicle, both wearing bright smiles, one real, the other fake.

“Hey!” He called, matching his daughter’s grin.

Emily jogged up the porch steps while Carla followed slowly behind. You released his hand before he pulled his daughter in for a hug, watching with a large smile as he held her close, incredibly grateful for her, and her acceptance of the two of you. When she began to groan, he set her free. She turned to you, each of you nervous about how to greet each other. Finally, you settled on a quick embrace.

“It’s so nice to see you again!”

“You too! I’m so glad you’re my dad’s girlfriend.”

“Awe,” Your heart clenched at the lovely comment. “You are so sweet.”

“Did you like the flowers he sent?”

“I loved them.”

“They were my idea.” She bragged.

“I knew it couldn’t have been him. They were too thoughtful.”

“Hey!” He called sternly. “That’s not true.”

You both giggled before you cleared your throat pretending to be serious. “No, of course not.”

Beau rolled his eyes with annoyance, earning another laugh. He should have known how fast it would be before you two turned on him. This next one better be a boy! He grumbles to himself. Carla watched how quickly her daughter took a liking to you so she figured it was only fair to give you a shot.

“Carla, this is Y/N. Y/N, Carla.” Beau introduced.

She extended her hand and you gladly shook it. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well. I’ve heard so many great things about you.”

“Thanks,” Her eyes glanced at her ex-husband and she playfully remarked, “You’re right about his thoughtfulness. It’s terrible.”

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” He hollered.

You led them to the table to get to know one another better while he finished cooking. You both agreed to keep the baby a secret for a little while longer so you made sure not to mention it. Time flew by and before you knew it, Beau had finished grilling. The man was right, they loved you. After eating, they stayed well into the night, everyone exchanging stories and having a grand ol' time. He was grateful as he watched the most important women in his world build a bridge he should've crossed a long time ago, and he was ashamed he hadn't done it sooner.

BEAU ALREN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

FOREVER TAGS : @jaredpadonlyyyy @nicksalchemy1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @nancymcl @graciehams

@spacecowgirl126 @lmg14 @gurneetsadhra23 @crooked-haven @idontwannabehere7

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BEAU TAGS : @criminalyetminimal @lailawinchesterr @globetrotter28 @chi_raz @blueschevy

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#jensen ackles #beau arlen #beau arlen fluff #beau arlen angst #beau arlen smut #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fic #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x fem!reader #beau x reader #beau x you #beau x y/n #big sky #beau arlen age gap

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rawritzrobin · 1 day ago

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Count to Ten

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence (but not really), soul sucking fluff

A/N: The world sucks right now. Enjoy a piece of happiness from the only man that would be able to save us all from this place. (Repost because I broke my last post :D)

Masterlist

The air was cold. The air in Gotham was always cold. The time of cold that hits you when you least suspect it.

Kind of like today.

You weren’t even sure what time of day it was anymore. You couldn’t think straight. The pounding in your head was not helping the situation one bit.

Somewhere to your left, a pipe was dripping in a steady, mocking rhythm.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You try to lift your head again, but the room tilts. Your vision blurred at the edges, white stars clouding your vision. Your wrists ached where the rope bit into your skin. You stopped fighting against them a while ago.

You swallowed. Your mouth tasted like copper. You were not sure how long you had been tied to this chair. The last thing you remember was walking to your car from work. You mentally kicked yourself for leaving so late. You knew better. Gotham didn’t give a damn what time it was. Someone was always watching.

“You hear me, sweetheart?”

The voice was too close. You could hear the grin in his voice. You turned away from the direction of the voice.

“Your boyfriend’s late to the party. Maybe we were mistaken about how much you mean to him.”

You clenched your jaw. He’s coming. He always comes. You just hoped the emergency signal had gone off.

The man laughed and paced a slow circle around your chair. You avoided looking at his face. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You put on a brave face, but deep down, you were terrified.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He stopped directly behind the chair, and looked down at you like a hungry animal. “Maybe I can have some fun with you before he gets here.” You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You tried to pull away, but the sudden movement only made the pounding in your head worse.

A sound at the far end of the warehouse echoed through the room. Heavy boots on concrete. Measured. Certain.

The air around you changed.

Your breath hitched. The man behind you shifted. His cocky demeanor changed almost immediately.

From Pride. Into Fear.

******

Jason didn’t look at you. Not yet.

His entire focus was on the men standing between him and the only thing he’d ever sworn to protect.

They started to shout into the shadows, some threat about leverage, about ransom.

He raised his pistol and chambered a round. The sound cracked the silence like thunder. The men around you tensed.

“You picked the wrong person to mess with.”

The next five seconds were chaos.

Gunshots. Screams. The wet impact of bodies hitting concrete.

You flinched but didn’t look up, not that doing so would help seeing how the headache still clouded your vision. You knew how this was all going to end. You were thankful the men kept you in the far back of the warehouse.

The silence returned, but only for a moment.

You felt his presence before you heard his voice.

Footsteps. The rasp of his breath behind the helmet. The gentler shift in his weight as he crouched in front of you.

“Y/N?”

Your lip trembled. You opened your eyes, just enough to see through your lashes.

“Hey, doll,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Can you hear me?”

You nodded. Tears sliding over your cheeks.

“I’m here,” he murmured, softer now. “I’m gonna get you out.”

He lifted a gloved hand and brushed your cheek with his knuckle. A touch so soft it almost didn't feel real.

His eyes narrowed beneath the mask. His voice lowered, deadly calm.

“Close your eyes for me.”

“Jay…”

“Close them, sweetheart. I need you to trust me.”

You swallowed hard and obeyed, blinking the tears away before darkness took over.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “It will be over soon.”

You waited for his next order.

“Count to ten.”

You clenched her eyes shut so tight it hurt.

“One…”

You heard the scrape of his boots moving away.

“Two…”

A wet sound. Something heavy hitting the floor.

“Three…”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

“Four…”

Metal clattered against concrete.

“Five…”

A muffled groan, cut short by the sound of a gunshot.

“Six…”

Something warm splattered across your arm. You flinched but didn’t dare open your eyes.

“Seven…”

His voice, low, close: “Almost there.”

“Eight…”

The ropes shifted around your wrists.

“Nine…”

The pressure eased. You drew your first full breath in hours.

“Ten.”

You didn't dare open your eyes. Not yet. You collapsed forward, but his arms caught you before you could even think about the impact. Carefully, you felt his arms snake under your knees and behind your arms.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said again, voice raw. You could hear the subtle shake even through his voice changer.

You buried your face in his chest. His jacket smelled like leather and cigarettes, with a tinge of gunpowder.

He carried you out of that warehouse as gently as possible.

Past the bodies.

Past the carnage he left behind.

All you felt was the steady thump of his heart against your cheek.

You felt the familiar feeling of a leather seat behind you once he set you down. You opened your eyes slowly.

Jason was kneeling in front of you. Helmet off. Mask off. Hair damp with sweat. His teal eyes meeting yours.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded once, even though you weren't entirely sure it was the truth.

His gaze softened. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a wet cloth. With hands that had just ended lives, he wiped the blood from your cheek.

The smudge on your arm. The tears from your cheeks.

He took his time. Like if he went slowly enough, maybe he could erase all of it. Every bruise, every nightmare, every memory of tonight.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Let’s go home.” he murmured.

Your lip curved up, just a little. Just enough.

You nodded.

He gave you a tired smile.

“Count to ten, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “That’s all you ever have to do. I’ll handle the rest.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood #Jason Todd #batman #jason todd imagines #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #Writing keeps me sane #Jason todd/reader #red hood x you

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yeonmuse · 1 day ago

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CHROME HEARTS ──but I break them still

❪ CHROME HEARTS ❫ nishimura riki & fem!rea 1k w.c ⋆♱✮ fluff/angst ༯ university au ꫂ ၴႅၴ synopsis──★˙nainais library !! @k-films

CHAPTER 27 | bikinis and self reflection

You’d gone through a roller coaster of a week that seemed to wrap up in a way you hadn’t expected, but in all honesty there was no other way you’d rather have it end other than being asked out by Niki. He still had yet to tell you where the two of you would go or when it would take place but for once you weren’t worried, you allowed yourself to be curious.

“She may be okay with it but i’m not can we tell him to movee this along already.’’ Melody complains as she, you and Chaewon are all searching throught the same rack of swimsuits.

“We’ve watcheed him struggle to even get her to say yes, he took L after L. I'm pretty sure he’s planning some dramatic over the top shit, knowing him he likes to go overboard.” Chaewon retorts, moving over to another rack to scope out new options.

“Well honestly I think it’s sweet he wants to take his time, he’s giving the two of you more time to explore each other before the date.’’ Chloe beams, she had been the most happy to hear Niki had asked you out because she had always waited for the moment someone would come and fill you with butterflies. She was also happy because she had been right about the two of you all along which meant she won the bet between herself, Aya and Jongseob.

“I’m honestly proud of him, honestly I didn’t even know he was seriously interested in anyone until Heeseung gave me all the details.” Sakoia joins in on the conversation from the dressing room nearby as she took in her appearance in the mirror.

While all of you gathered together as cheerful as ever to be hanging out with one another there was one girl there that was feeling slightly lonely. This was new to her, you being so easily open and willing to allow others into your inner circle so easily, yes she was happy that you were being more social and finally spreading your wings, but it made her feel smaller, not because of jealousy or the anxiousness of having you stolen away as her best friend, but because you had already been distant with her lately and she hated it. She knew that she had no one to blame but herself but this was agonizing. Being around you and not being able to know how you felt or what you thought about her anymore.

It wasn’t until all of you had successfully paid for your swimsuits and left for the food court that she decided to pull you for a talk while everyone else scattered for food. After placing your orders you both head over to the fountain and take a seat.

“I just wanted to see where your head was at…I know we haven’t really talked since we all came over that day..” Mako asks, her eyes practically pouring into your own, a sense of anxiousness behind them.

“You know I forgave you, but it doesn’t mean that I could move on from that so easily, we won’t go back to how we were before, not after a week at least. It’s hard to do that knowing you not only lied to me but you used something you know i’m insecure about against me. It put me in a hard place because you’re my best friend, the only person I've known since I was four and I wish that you had trusted me enough to come and tell me your feelings.” Mako simply nods, she doesn’t speak a word, just lets you talk and in all honesty she doesn’t really know what to say because you were right.

“Most of all Niki didn’t deserve it, even if it didn't bother him. Even if he didn’t take it to hurt it was wrong and I took all of my frustrations out on him when he was nothing but good to me Mako. I get it, I understand your feelings I do, but it will never make it right. You need to learn to control your jealousy and your attitude or it’ll only make people distance themselves from you no matter how close you are. The other girls don’t even know how they should act around you now because they think you’ll get territorial, they don’t even know if they could bring up Niki’s name without the flip of a switc making you angry.’’ She couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than sit there and reflect as you spoke.

“I love you Mako, but I need more time and you need time to sort out your thoughts and reflect on everything that could have gone wrong if Niki never reached out to me that day.’’ you finish, your conversation being interrupted by the buzzer, signaling that your food had been ready. Pushing yourself up from the fountain you go to join the others leaving Mako trailing behind you still lost to her thoughts.

She wasn't aware that even his friends felt the need to walk on eggshells around her. When she though to tell her everything she heard without knowing the full story she didn't know what the severity of her actions would be. That entire time at the table while the others chattered and talked amongst themselves she couldnt stop thinking about how badly she had fucked up. She not only hurt you but she made it seem hard for others to approach her when things had never been that way with her.

The other girls could sense that there was something wrong but none of them said a word because it wasn’t their place. Chloe just rests a reassuring hand on Makos shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze. She also knew that mako was in the wrong too but she hated to see you both so distant from one another. She knew that you both were most likely hurting over this but she was alos fully aware of the severity of the situation. Youboth needed time alone, time apart from one another because it had always been Mako and yn since you were five years old, you’d never got to know what life was like without each other. And maybe that was the reason mako had done what she did, because all that time the two of you had been conjoined at the hip, you knew everything about one another. Even if Mako didn’t realize it, maybe she was just scared of someone she didn’t know taking you away and changing that.

CHAPTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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whisperedmeg · 5 hours ago

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SOFT ANIMAL ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part xiii

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: spencer comes in from the rain, soaking wet and holding soup and endless apologies. after everything, love arrives as quiet belonging — a lazy day, a soft question, a future that happens not all at once, but surely.

genre: hurt/comfort, FLUFFFF, smut | w/c: 3k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, aftermath of the fight from pt 12 (picks up exactly where it left off), then a time jump (3 months), morning sex (p in v), cuties on their anniversary, happy happy ending, inspired by the poem “wild geese” by mary oliver, tbh not much plot after the time jump but i just wanted it to feel like a soft cushy landing after all the hard stuff

a/n: the final part of the soft animal series is here and I truly cannot believe I just typed out those words. see the end for my full author’s note this time 🫶🏼

series masterlist

The sky was dark before I heard the knock.

Not his key in our door — a knock. I felt that knock in my spine.

I dropped my phone on the couch beside me in the middle of drafting a long-winded text and bounded towards the door. I opened it, and there he was. Spencer. Rain-damp hair curling at the edges. Dark circles under his eyes. A wilted paper bag in one hand, clothes dripping as if he’d been walking in the storm sans umbrella for hours — and maybe he had been.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough.

“You knocked.”

“I… I thought I should.”

His eyes flicked toward the floor, like he wasn’t sure if he’d be let in. Like he’d shown up prepared to leave again. I didn’t move.

“I brought you soup. And tea. And mini M&Ms. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.”

I sighed and stepped aside, and he walked in quietly.

He put the bag down and turned. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Leaving. You deserve so much better than someone like me dragging you down.”

I swallowed. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Spencer. That’s up to me.”

His voice cracked. “I know. I just… I thought I was protecting you.”

“I know that’s what you thought, but you weren’t. You were protecting yourself from the idea that someone might love you, even like this.”

He stared at me.

“I do, you know,” I said. “Love you. Even like this. Especially like this.”

He blinked, and the air between us trembled with everything he wasn’t saying. That he hadn’t believed it. That maybe, still, part of him didn’t.

He stayed quiet for a long beat before responding. “What I said to you… that night. Accusing you of wanting to play nurse and fix me — that wasn’t fair. I know you were coming from a good place, because you love me and want me to be okay. I know you don’t see me as a patient. It was wrong of me to say that.” He paused and steadied himself before continuing. “And calling you the woman I’m sleeping with…” He swallowed, jaw tight. “That was cruel. And reductive. And I knew it the second it came out of my mouth.”

I stood still.

“I was angry and ashamed and spiraling,” he said. “But none of that excuses saying something that small about someone I love more than anything.”

My breath caught.

His voice was raw now, stripped down to the bone. “And that’s not how I see you. You’re not a warm body in my bed. You’re… you,” he said. “You’re the person who made my life feel like it was worth living again. Who taught me how to breathe after I forgot how. You’re not even just my girlfriend — you’re my partner. My future. You’re my entire world, honestly. I love you, and I’ve never, ever seen you like that. I can’t take back the fact that I said it, but I’m so unbelievably sorry that I did.”

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“I know.” He stepped forward, slowly, then added, quietly, “But you were right to push me. I do need help, and I am scared.”

“I know, Spence.” My voice broke, and he reached up instinctively, brushing his thumb along my cheek like muscle memory.

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t actually think we aren’t ready for this. I don’t actually want to break up,” he said quietly.

“I was never going to let that happen anyways. When you knocked, I was halfway through drafting a text to Penelope asking her to hack your phone’s GPS so I could come confront you, wherever you’ve been hiding.”

He let out a quiet sound almost resembling a laugh and closed the remaining distance between us, pulling me in. We stood in the kitchen, his rain-drenched clothes soaking mine as he held me, his arms around my waist, my face in his shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I choose you. Even when I’m a mess. Even when I’m not okay.”

“I choose you too,” I whispered back. “Every version.”

”I missed you every second,” he murmured. “JJ and Will’s couch might’ve permanently realigned my spine into an S-shape.”

I huffed out a breath of laughter and buried my face deeper against his skin. “I missed you too. Every single second.”

He pulled back to look at me, eyes soft and finally looking like his own again. Then, tentatively, achingly slowly, he began to lean in. I tangled my fingers in his wet curls, pulled him down the rest of the way, and kissed him, soft and true.

There’s no tidy solution to trauma or grief. No final answer you can circle in ink and get a gold star for. But this was how we found our way back: with honest conversation and rain-soaked embraces.

Later, in bed, skin still warm from where we’d found each other again, he traced numbers and shapes along the bare curves of my body. Fibonacci spirals. Möbius strips. All the patterns that don’t quite make sense until you stand back far enough.

“I’m going to try therapy,” he said quietly. “Not just because you asked, but because I want to. I think I need to.”

I kissed his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. “I’m proud of you.”

He looked at me then — really looked — before speaking again. “And I think I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to be with you forever.”

Tears burned, but I smiled. “I’d like that. A lot.”

I let myself imagine our future: slow mornings, stupid arguments, soft reconciliations, nights spent knowing his body better than my own, and all the quiet moments in between. Not perfect, but perfectly ours.

—

3 months later:

Rain fell softly outside, a quiet insistence — not mournful, not loud, just steady. Like something true repeating itself. It sounded the way belonging feels — that was the second thing I thought of when I woke up. The first was Spencer. It was always Spencer. My Spencer.

He was curled beside me, one arm slung over the blanket we shared, hair damp with sweat at the temple, breath slow and even. His limbs were gathered close, body curved toward the center like a sleeping cat in a patch of light — a soft animal. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders and let the weight of the moment settle.

Today marked one year since the night he called me. That first night after his release, when he asked — quietly, hopefully — if I’d come see him. We hadn’t been anything official then, not in name. But we’d already been something real. Spencer and I had never really settled on a proper anniversary, but that night always made the most sense in my mind. It was the beginning of the life we had now built together.

It had been a few months since the worst of it — the fight and distance that felt like the beginning of the end. Since then, things had softened. Spencer was teaching a little more and traveling with the BAU a little less, and he’d started therapy, quietly but consistently. The weight he carried began to lighten and shift in ways I could feel more than I could see. And every few sessions, I joined him. It was good for us — we’d learned how to argue better. How to step away and come back. How to hurt each other less and heal each other more.

Beside me, I listened to Spencer breathe. I didn’t want to move — not yet. The air was cool, the light was golden, and Spencer — safe and warm and mine — had that expression he only wore in sleep. A kind of innocence, but deeper. Like trust. Like a peace, hard-won.

I felt a soft ache in my thighs, ghosted reminders of last night’s closeness — hands, mouths, bodies. He stirred with a sigh, lashes fluttering, mouth twitching in a sleep-dumb smile. “Hey,” he mumbled in that gravelly morning voice I adored so much.

“Hi.” I shifted closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He hummed.

We didn’t say anything else for a while. There was no need. Our legs tangled like instinct, and I tucked my head beneath his chin while his hand found the curve of my waist. The window blurred with rain. A few birds called in the distance. And the world, impossibly, kept going.

His hand slid up beneath the hem of the t-shirt I wore — his t-shirt, the one with FBI Academy across the chest in faded screen print, the same one I’d worn that very first night — fingers dragging slowly along the bare skin of my thigh. A quiet question.

I turned to face him fully, brushing the hair back from his forehead, and nodded.

We didn’t rush. There was no urgency, no script. Just the slow unfurling of touch, of breath, of want. His mouth found mine with reverence, and the heat that bloomed between us was steady and sure.

He undressed me like he was unwrapping something fragile, not because I’d break, but because he wanted to savor it. I did the same. He whispered my name like it was the only word he knew. I kissed the scar on his palm, the one I’d first seen when he was still learning how to sleep with the lights off.

We moved together like we’d done it a hundred times, because we had. But this time felt different — softer, deeper, threaded through with memory and meaning.

He always touched me like he was still a little in awe that he was allowed to. Like every pass of his hands over my skin was both permission and prayer. His hand cradled my hip as he slid inside me, and we both stilled for a moment — just breathing, just being. His forehead rested against mine as we started to move, lazy and deep, like we had all the time in the world. Like we’d made it, finally, to the soft middle of our story.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, letting my legs fall open around him. Our bodies moved together like a tide, steady and slow. Every rock of his hips made my breath catch, made my hands grasp for more.

He kept whispering things — my name, yes, but also small, ridiculous things that made me smile or laugh and then moan or gasp. “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” and “I miss you even while I’m inside you, like I can never get enough,” and “I think my IQ drops at least twenty points when you do that,” and “I never want this to end.” His voice broke on that last one, and I kissed it back together.

When I came, it was with a soft cry against his shoulder, my hands buried in his hair, my whole body arching up to meet his. He followed seconds later, gasping my name like it was the only word he remembered, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me.

Afterwards, we didn’t move for a while. Our legs tangled, our chests rising together, our skin slick with sweat and love and everything we hadn’t needed to say out loud. He pressed a kiss just under my jaw and I held him tighter, just because I could.

“I love you,” he murmured, eyes closed.

I kissed his shoulder. “And I love you.”

—

After we finally pulled ourselves out of bed and shared a shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed a book, and settled back against the headboard. His thumb dragged across the page as he read. I rested my cheek on his shoulder.

Eventually, I asked for a random fact to break up the silence.

“Sloths,” he said immediately without even looking up, “can hold their breath longer than dolphins. Up to forty minutes.”

I snorted. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He looked over, eyes bright. “They slow their heart rate so much they barely use oxygen.”

“Survival through stillness,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “It’s efficient.”

But I didn’t see it as only efficiency. I thought about stillness as resistance. As hope. As the wild, quiet insistence that you deserve to be here — even if you move slowly, even if it’s hard.

—

The kitchen smelled like citrus and coffee. I wore his Caltech hoodie, sleeves swallowing my hands, and he handed me a mug with both palms like it was something sacred. In a way, it was.

Breakfast was slow. Toast. Fruit. A hard-boiled egg that refused to peel properly. He cursed under his breath and I pretended not to laugh until he caught me holding it in. His expression — affronted and mildly betrayed — made me want to climb onto his lap and kiss him right there at the table with jam still on my fingers.

He refilled my coffee without being asked. I handed him half my toast, and he gave me some of his grapes. We bumped knees under the table.

Later, he leaned against the counter while I sliced apples and tried to sneak one, only to flinch back when I playfully raised the knife in faux-threat.

“You’re ruthless,” he said, half-smiling.

“You tried to steal from the chef,” I replied, laying my weapon down.

He pulled me in by the hips and kissed my temple. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

I looked up. “You remembered?”

“You know I remember everything,” he teased. “But even if I didn’t, I’d always remember that night.”

—

The rest of the day passed in pieces. Brushing our teeth together. Crosswords on the living room floor. A kiss pressed behind my ear when he thought I was dozing. I noticed him watching me like he still couldn’t believe this was real — that we were.

At one point, he touched my ankle under the blanket on the couch and said, “Do you think we’ll ever mess this up?”

I looked at him for a long time, then shifted until I was leaning against him.

“In some small, human way, maybe. But not in the ways we can’t come back from. We’ll always find our way back to each other, I know that much for certain.”

He leaned his forehead to mine. “You make it easier.”

“You make it worth it.”

He didn’t answer — just cradled my chin between his fingers and kissed me softly, slowly. Like we had time. Like we always would.

—

Later, while he diced carrots and celery and onion with absurd precision for the bolognese sauce we were making for dinner (Rossi’s recipe, of course), I leaned against the counter and watched his hands. And for just a moment, I remembered the version of him I first met — the one who flinched at loud noises and slept facing the door. The one who told me he didn’t need to be fixed, just carried.

He still wasn’t totally okay, but he was healing. And I got to witness it. I got to love him through it.

I stole a carrot from the cutting board, and he swatted my hand.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“Oh, I’m exactly as stealthy as I think.”

He said my name like it was a full sentence, and I said his back. We grinned at each other like idiots.

Once we finally stopped distracting each other long enough to finish cooking dinner, we ate with our legs touching under the table. He told me about a new academic journal he was reading. I told him about a coworker who made me laugh. He offered to do the dishes, then pulled me along to sit on the counter while he did.

I watched him with a full chest.

This life — soft, boring, beautiful — was one we built together. And it didn’t scare either of us anymore.

—

Dusk settled in cool and forgiving. The rain thinned a bit, so we cracked a window and let the breeze in. I lit a few candles. He curled behind me on the couch, tracing patterns on my back — sometimes spirals, sometimes words, sometimes nothing particular at all.

His voice was low. “Feels like it’s been longer, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “In the best way.”

“Sometimes I can still picture you in the doorway that night,” he murmured. “The way you looked at me before falling into my arms. I think I knew right then and there that you were it for me.”

I leaned back into him. “I think I knew it, too.”

Outside, the sky darkened into bruised violet and deep indigo. The familiar sound of the calls of wild geese moving in formation echoed through the breeze — sharp and certain. The kind of movement you don’t question.

We didn’t talk about the past. We didn’t need to. It was all there in the shape of him beside me, in the way his body curved towards mine like I was his home.

And when he shifted to grab another blanket, I saw it — the unmistakable shape of a ring box outlined in the pocket of his sweatpants. Not quite hidden, but not flaunted, either. Just there, ready, waiting for the right moment. He didn’t seem to realize I’d noticed it. Just smiled, kissed my temple, and curled around me on the couch again like it was any other night. My heart skipped a beat, and I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. But I knew.

Some promises arrive quiet and certain: like rain at the window, like breath in the dark. Like a love real enough to wear on your finger.

Together, we were exactly who we needed to be — soft animals, learning how to love what we loved.

the end.

ᝰ.ᐟ

author’s note: do you guys forgive me for part 12 now? lol. but on the real, I don’t even know what to say for this one. part 13, the end of the soft animal series, now belongs to you 🫶🏼. to anyone who came along this ride with me — I couldn’t be more thankful.

post-reading soft animal manifesto can be found here!

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

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ameriize · 2 days ago

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omg hi hi, if requests are open or when they open could you pretty please write something for subby!sion?🤍

sub!bf!sion x dom!gf!reader

content! : mutual masturbation, phone sex, sion turns dom near the end for like a split second

days have gone by since sion’s flown out of the country for the smtown tour. the day he left, you laid in bed and sulked for the rest of the evening. not having someone who’d always make you laugh, or always be laughing at something, near you, was depressing to say the least. you missed sion and he missed you too.

he missed the way you’d always greet him with a massive tight hug when he’d come through the door of your home. now he’s greeted with an empty hotel room. he also missed the way you would always have food prepared for both of you, if you knew he was staying the night at yours. he also just missed you. your warm presence, your beautiful face, your perfect body.

you two had an amazing sex life and a couple days without it genuinely felt like hell. for both of you.

he couldn’t even touch himself anymore because it didn’t feel the same as when you would. he tried to ignore it, tried to keep the small conversations, his busy schedule would allow for, wholesome for you. he didn’t want you to think that all he was missing about you was the sex. because that was far from it. but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t included.

that’s why when you texted him “sion baby i need you.” at 11pm, he had to double check that he was seeing the right message. when it hit him that this was reality, he quickly went to typing.

sion🩷: like…in that way?

my love😋: if by ‘that way’ you mean like i’m extremely horny and i can’t stop thinking about your dick then yes.

unable to contain his happiness, he started kicking his feet on the bed.

sion🩷: i’ve been feeling the same way. i just didn’t wanna say anything bc we barely would get to speak. i even thought you’d be sleeping by now.

my love😋: you should’ve said sumth. then i would know i’m not the only aching rn.

you waited a minute until you started typing again.

my love😋: can we call?

not even a second after you sent that, sion pressed the call button next to your name. his dick was already stiffening.

“hi baby.”, he smiled.

“hi si.”, you smiled back aswell, and he could hear it in your voice.

“i really wished you had told me you were horny for me too…”

“i know…i’m sorry. but telling you i was up all night thinking of you edging me until i can’t think isn’t really a great conversation starter.”

“i don’t know… sounds like a good one to me. especially right now.”, you said, with a devious smile.

wanting to get more comfortable, you shifted to lay on your back and placed your phone next to your head.

“si, are you…comfortable?”, you asked.

you heard ruffling and shifting on the other end.

“now i am.”

“what are you wearing?”

“a black top and those blue boxers that you like. but i wish you could take them off me.”, he answers, playing with the end of said boxers.

“i wish i could do a ton of things to you right now.”

his hands moved to caressing his upper thigh, near the sensitive, hot area.

“like what?”, he asked, placing his phone near his ear.

“like…edging you until you can’t think.”, you both let out a small laugh and continue,“…then sucking you off until i’ve completely milked you. then riding and fucking you into oblivion.”

you heard a little whimper on the other end. in response, your hand moved over to your clothed cunt, just slightly grazing.

“please…tell me what to do.”, he whined.

“start palming your dick. and go slow.”, you ordered.

he obeyed almost immediately, with his hand working up and down his stiff clothed hard on.

“what—hmmm— are you doing right now?”

“i’m touching myself th-through my shorts. fuck i wish you were here sion.”, you sighed, your pleasure betraying the smoothness of your words.

“same baby same. please i need more— hah! can i touch my dick now? please i need it so bad.”

the arousal gathering in your cunt pushed you further and further away from even thinking about teasing sion more. you needed to cum as badly as he did, so why drag this out any longer?

“y-yea pull down your boxers and touch yourself for me okay?

once his dick was free, he began stroking until he heard you call out his name.

“did you spit on your hand like i would do? or are you too eager?”, you asked.

he’s definitely too eager. he’d been wanting you since he closed the door to leave that day. of course he’s too eager. but he needed to remember his place. his place that put him as your pet.

the sound of him spitting into his warm, shaky hand had you rubbing over the fabric of your shorts even faster. but what made you finally touch the flesh of your wet slit was hearing the wet squelching sounds of him stroking up and down his dick.

“i hope you’re going slow, si. remember i own you.”, you warned.

he bit his lip at the sultry tone of your voice and used all his strength to restrain against going faster.

“i’m going slow.”

“good boy.”

a whine echoed through your phone.

“now, focus one hand on your head and use the other to grip and move up and down your dick. tell me when you start, si.”

a few seconds go by before he next replied. though the glorious moan that left his lips acted as a sign that he’d done your order.

“i’ve done it. fuck it feels so good. wish you were the one touching me, stroking me. mmmngghh ugh!”

you pushed two fingers in you, to stop your cunt clenching around nothing. but your fingers were nothing compared to his thick, pulsating shaft. you let out a small moan and closed your eyes, the stimulation feeling all too good.

“si, baby, go faster for me. you want that, yea?”

he happily listened, his hands moving at a pace he imagined you’d go.

“fuck fuck fuck, my tip is so sensitive! shitttt! nghhh hah fuck! please baby tell me you missed me please please i need to hear your voice.”, he moaned, his voice sounding otherworldly.

“i missed you. i missed you so much sion. wish it was you inside me instead.”

his eyes rolled back to how you moaned his name. he always loved when you’d say it like that when his dick would be inches deep in you.

“fuck, t-touching myself felt like torture. it’s wasn’t enough. i need you next to me fuck baby.”

“wanna be bouncing on your dick, just riding you with no mercy. you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“y-yea ughhh i want it! f-fuckkkk i’m close i’m close.”

body temperature rising, you moved your free hand to your boobs and began massaging them and gliding over your nipples. something he’d always do to you.

“don’t cum unless i tell you to, si.”

“mnghhh are you close? i don’t- i don’t know how much longer i can hold it. so please tell me you are.”, he expressed, eyebrows furrowed so deep, the muscles around were aching.

“yeah puppy i’m close. i’m touching my nipples like you would, and it’s making me crazy. i’m so wet for you si, so wet.”

“shit shit fuck i can’t-i can’t! no no shit you shouldn’t have told me that! i think i’m gonna cummmm— baby fuckkkk”

“hold that shit in, si. or else i cut the call right now.”

if only you knew that your authoritative tone only caused him to spiral even further. maybe you could let his disobedience go this one time?

“please please i’m sorry i’m sorry— just cum with me yea? fuck yourself so good like it’s me. just—fuck— let’s cum together baby please hurry and cum for me.”, he babbled, brain going numb with how many times he’s stroked over his leaking throbbing tip. it was seriously hurting him now. tears were streaming down his face, and his chest was rising and falling fast. with the way he was squirming and tossing and turning, there was no way he could’ve obeyed you. he’d already changed positions to his ass in the air, hand never leaving his dick and head to the side, sunken in his pillow. drool was collecting on it but he didn’t care.

“f-fuck sion. if i wasn’t so needy, i’d punish you so bad but i can’t— shit!— think right now.”, you moan in response. “yea let’s cum together puppy. i’m so close.”

“yes yes yes fuck can we come now?”, he pleaded.

the pace of your fingers rose and rose, your breath getting heavier and heavier. the mewls and whimpers your dazed boyfriend was making on the other end only added to your stimulation. it was unclear who exactly was the one in power, but neither of you cared about that. you both just needed to cum right fucking now.

“yes! lets cum together baby—fuck—i’m cumming.”, you whined, your back arching off your bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

“nghhh fuckfuckfuck i’m cumming too baby.”, he moaned loudly. he’s unsure if the hotel walls are soundproof or not but he was really praying for the former.

“mmnnghhhh it’s so much! i’m cumming so much for you.”, he continued, your own whines intertwining with his. sion’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he continued cumming, his thighs convulsing. eventually, he’d began to calm down, his spent body going limp against the mattress.

on your end, you were coming down from your high too. you examined your fingers, looking at the mess you’d made on them, then the bed, seeing you’d leaked onto it. not wanting to pay that any mind at that moment, you relaxed and turned your attention back to your boyfriend, who’d not said a word for some time.

“you good over there babe? you’ve gone quiet.”

“y-yea i’m fine. just feeling so sleepy…”, he lazily replied.

“oh yeah it must be really late over there. i should leave you-”

“no no. stay on the phone please. wanna feel like i’m sleeping next to you like usual… i really missed you, you know?”

pulling the covers over you, you got into a more comfortable position.

“si, i really really missed you too.”, you responded, eyes droopily opening and closing.

you heard a soft small hum.

“goodnight my love.”

“goodnight, sion.”

a/n: will be doing another phone sex fic with someone else - literally one of my BIGGEST fantasies!! also been rly wanting to write a jjk fic so maybe i’ll get on that next after finishing up my asks.

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