#come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth.

[nlvrr]

SILENT SNOW | jude bellingham

summary: jude and you, his girlfriend, share a cozy first christmas eve together with laughter, gifts, and sweet moments by the fire.

warnings: none

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n: merry christmas eve! a little christmas eve special.

requests are open! ^^

the snow outside fell steadily, a soft blanket of white covering the quiet streets. everything felt still, almost magical, as if the world was holding its breath on christmas eve. inside jude’s living room, the warmth was almost tangible. the fireplace crackled gently, its orange glow lighting up the room alongside the twinkle of fairy lights strung across the walls and tree.

you were in the kitchen, carefully balancing two mugs of hot chocolate, each topped with whipped cream and an obscene amount of mini marshmallows—just the way jude liked it. you walked into the living room, catching sight of him by the fireplace, crouched down as he adjusted the logs. he was dressed in a soft gray sweater that hung perfectly on his broad shoulders, the joggers giving him an approachable, cozy charm that made your heart swell.

he looked up as you entered, a slow, playful grin spreading across his face. “spying on me?” he teased, brushing his hands off as he stood.

“just making sure you don’t burn the house down,” you shot back, holding up the mugs like a peace offering. “thought you might need a break from your firemaster duties.”

his grin deepened as he crossed the room, taking one of the mugs from you. his fingers brushed against yours for just a second too long, sending a warm shiver up your spine. “ah, my favorite,” he said, inspecting the marshmallow mountain you’d crafted. “this is why i keep you around.”

“oh, so it’s not my sparkling personality?” you teased, settling down on the couch.

he took a sip, a little too eagerly, leaving a streak of whipped cream on his upper lip. “well, that too,” he mumbled, clearly not realizing what he’d done.

you bit back a laugh, pointing at him. “jude, you’ve got—” you gestured vaguely to your own face, trying to contain yourself.

he raised an eyebrow. “here?”

“no, here,” you said, leaning in slightly to point, but before you could, he closed the gap, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your cheek and leaving behind a smear of whipped cream.

“jude!” you gasped, bursting into laughter as you wiped at your cheek.

“sharing the holiday spirit,” he said with a wink, his dimples on full display as he flopped down onto the couch beside you, pulling a blanket over your legs.

shaking your head but secretly loving his antics, you handed him a small wrapped box you’d hidden behind one of the pillows. “alright, time to see if you’ve been naughty or nice.”

he grinned, taking the box eagerly. “don’t worry, i’m always nice.” his enthusiasm was contagious as he tore through the wrapping paper, revealing the leather wallet you’d picked out for him.

the corners of his mouth lifted in a softer, almost surprised smile when he saw his initials engraved in silver. but what really got him was the polaroid photo tucked into the inside pocket—a candid shot of the two of you from a few weeks ago, arms wrapped around each other, mid-laugh.

his voice came out low, almost reverent. “this is… class,” he murmured, running his fingers over the wallet before pulling out the photo. for a moment, he just stared at it, his thumb brushing lightly over the image.

“i thought you might like something personal,” you said softly, suddenly feeling shy under the warmth of his gaze.

he set the wallet down, reaching for you instead. “come here,” he said, his arms pulling you onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “this might be my favorite christmas already.”

“you say that now,” you teased, leaning back just enough to hand him his hot chocolate again. “but i’ve got a feeling you’re just in it for the marshmallows.”

he chuckled, kissing the top of your head before lifting his mug. “you might be right, but this is still the best.”

you stayed curled up like that for what felt like hours, the two of you stealing quiet kisses and laughing over little things. eventually, he nodded toward the stack of presents under the tree. “your turn,” he said, pulling out a small gold-wrapped box.

you unwrapped it slowly, savoring the way jude’s brown eyes stayed locked on you, filled with quiet anticipation. inside the box was a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny snowflake charm that caught the firelight perfectly.

“jude…” your voice trailed off as you ran your fingers over the intricate charm. “this is beautiful.”

his voice softened, his teasing grin fading into something more sincere. “i wanted you to have something to remember this night,” he said quietly, reaching for your wrist. his fingers were steady as he clasped the bracelet, the snowflake charm resting lightly against your skin.

“our first christmas eve together,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

your chest tightened with emotion as you looked at him, at the boy who somehow managed to make even ordinary moments feel extraordinary. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” you said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

when the clock struck midnight, jude led you to the window. the snow was still falling, soft and silent, blanketing the world in peaceful stillness. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both looked out into the glowing night.

“make a wish,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

you closed your eyes briefly, though you already knew there was nothing more you could ask for. when you opened them, you turned to see jude already looking at you, his expression so full of love it made your chest ache.

“what did you wish for?” you asked quietly, barely above the sound of the fire crackling behind you.

he smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and sweet. “nothing,” he murmured against your lips. “i’ve already got everything i could ever want.”

[alphaleathergearhead]

Time to serve, skin boy

Marc put on his dark red bomber jacket, the red camo combat pants and his dark red ranger boots. He felt good and horny, ready to go out and look for an adventure on this Friday evening.

After a short stroll through the nearby street he entered his favourite bar on the corner to have some beer for a start. The bar wasn´t crowded yet. Marc went to the counter, ordered his beer and settled down. He grinned at the barman who placed the beer in front of him.  „Nice outfit“, he said to the hunk behind the counter, eying him up and down. The barman was wearing tall boots, leather chaps over an asstight jeans and a tight leather vest on nude skin. „Thanks bro, enjoy your beer“ said the barman and to Marcs disappointment he went away to the other end of the corner, where an older leather bloke was sitting. Most annoying, the two of them chatted animatedly and then the leather guy was kissing the barman.

„Ok“, thought Marc, „tried and failed“. He let his eyes wander through the bar but there was no familiar face to be seen. Marc returned to his beer, sipping on it and thinking what to do next.

„May I?“, said a deep voice suddenly besides Marc. Marc flinched slighty, taken by surprise, and turned to where the voice came from. It was a tall and well-built man, older than Marc, geared up in a black leather tracksuit, black sneakers, leather cap, leather gloves and a woodland camo bomber jacket. Marcs heart skipped….fuck, this was a good looking guy in hot gear.

The man smiled at Marc, took his place besides him and ordered a beer. The barman eyed him up and hurried to fulfill the wish. „I know him well……the barman“ added the man as he saw the irritation in Marcs face. „He fulfills every wish I have. Oh sorry, I´m Dean“.

„Hi Dean, I´m Marc.“

„Great to meet you, Marc. You´re geared up nicely, all to my taste, I would say.“

„Oh thanks, great, I mean…“ Marc stuttered slightly. „I mean, you´re looking great, too.“

„Is this so?“ Dean looked intensely at Marc wo felt himself x-rayed. He then smiled and took a huge sip of his beer. „Cheers Marc.“

„Cheers, Dean“. Marc relaxed after that intense stare and emptied his beer in one.

„Hey, there, another beer for Marc over here“, Dean ordered with a steely commanding voice. To Marcs astonishment the barman reacted at once, leaving his leather daddy alone.

„Now tell me Marc, what brings you here?“

Marc thought that this was a rather stupid question as the bar was wellknown for hooking up hot guys for a night. „I….well….yes….“ Damn, what an embarrasing show he was giving in front of this attractive guy. Marc fell silent and looked dumb on his beer.

There was a long, silent break. Then Dean smiled at him, emptied his beer and stood up. Fuck, if he goes now….thought Marc.

„Well Marc, I was looking for a hot skin for some hot action tonight. I thought, you might be the one. But I may have been mistaken. I leave now. My car is outside. I will wait, lets say, 2 minutes. If you make up your mind, come outside and our adventure will start. If not, then have a nice evening.“

Dean put some money on the counter. „Thats for both of us“, he said, turned around and left.

Marc sat like paralysed on his stool. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought. Then he jumped off the stool and left the bar on a run.

The door slammed close behind him. The street in front of him was empty. Fuck, he´s gone, you are such a fool, thought Marc angrily.

Then he felt a move behind him and a leather glove closed his mouth and nose. „Shhhhh, come with me and no resistance“ whispered Dean in his right ear. Marc was so surprised that he went nearly limp.

Dean steered him around the corner in a dark part of the street. He hold him there strongly against a wall and Marc felt suddenly cold steel against his wrists and heard a clicking sound. Before he could shout, he felt something closing his mouth and wrapping around his head. Shit, you fool, you are trapped, he thought and tried to rip off the thing that was closing his mouth only to feel that his hands were cuffed on his back. Then he lost sight as a black mask was put over his head. He felt Deans hands steering him away from the wall. He heared another clicking sound and then he was thrown into a tight space and a heavy lid was shut firmly above him. A car engine started and Marc knew that Dean had kidnapped him and put him into the trunk of a car.

How long the car ride took Marc didn´t know, He felt endless turns and curves and at a certain point the road seemed to get bumpy, too. Then at last the car slowed down and stopped. He heard Dean open the lid of the trunk and felt his hands on his body.

„Up, come out“ commanded Dean in a voice that tolerated no contradiction. He was dragged out of the trunk and fell onto the gound.

„Shit, get up at once“, shouted Dean angrily and strong hands hoisted him upright. Marcs legs felt weak and he stumbled around, bound and blindfold. Again strong hands steered him in a certain direction and he heard ruttling keys and a door unlocked.

„Watch out, there´s a step“. Helpless Marc nearly stumbled over it. „Stand still“, commanded Deans voice. Another door was opened and a damp and mouldy air reached Marcs nostrils.

„Pay attention to the stairs.“ Led by Deans firm hands Marc stumbled down a staircase, was then led along an even part of that building and then stopped. He heard a heavy door creaking open and was led into a room with better air, which was comfortably warm and dry. He then heard another metallic creaking and received a heavy push, which forced him to stumble forward. Again the creaking noice and then the mask was removed.

Marcs heart sank. He found himself trapped in a massive steel cage in the corner of a dungeon like cellar room. In the cage was a bare matress and a blanket. The cellar room had many devices whose purpose Marc did not know.

Dean stood in front of the cage, smiling broadly. „Thanks for accompaning me to my place. I will leave you for a while so you get used to the new situation. Then I will come back and our adventure will begin. Oh, and don´t try to scream or something like this. Nobody will hear you.“

Dean left the cellar room and Marc heard the door closed with heavy locks.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! I didn’t find any information of you ask box is open or not so I hope I’m not bothering!!

But if it’s open could you please do a bayverse or 2003 turtles x reader Headcanon of maybe their first makeout sesh as either a couple or crushes and the sexual tension is so THICK it leads dry humping? To them maybeeeee both 💦 undone while at it? Pls and thank you

(Also random comment since we are already here: Idk why ppl don’t talk about dry jumping anymore !!!!! Something about it is so vulnerable and passionate, the heavy breaths, the heat between each others bodies, the touch between both lips, the uncertainty of both parties if pushing boundaries… but if so then why does it feel so good? and the craving for more!!!! AH !!!! anyways it’s intimate it’s hot and ppl should write about it, thanks for coming to my Ted talk )

First Makeout Session (18+)

2003!Turtles x reader

A/N: The information about my Inbox is under my request rules, but luckily for you, they are open😉 I decided to let the lucky wheel decide between Bayverse and 2003, and it picked 2003💚 I’ve focused more about the makeout session itself, with a little bit of dry humping. I like the idea, so if you want me to make one mainly focused on that, then please let me know. Other than that, I hope you’ll enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Makeouts of course, dry humping, grinding, groping, implied sex, implied first time.

Leonardo:

You and Leo’s first kiss was sweet and passionate, coming shortly after the two of you had admitted your feelings for one another. But your first makeout session came a few weeks into your relationship.

It was late at night in Leo’s room, where you had decided to stay overnight. You and Leo had been cuddling for hours, talking in the low light of the lamp on his nightstand, when you found yourselves tangled up in each other’s arms, with your lips locked in sync.

It started off rather soft, but slowly took up momentum, until your tongues were dancing together, exploring each other’s mouths, small sounds escaping your mouths.

Leo couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips against you, enjoying the sounds that it made you do. He could keep going. He could flip you onto your back and take you right then and there. But in the end he decided against it. It was too early in your relationship.

Instead he stopped, kissed you all over your face and told you he loved you. And you in turn smiled, understanding what was going on, before snuggling closer to him, hiding your face against his plastron.

Raphael:

You and Raph’s first makeout session came as soon as it was possible. It was what came right before Raph finally confessed his feelings for you, while the two of you were still catching your breaths, arms still wrapped around each other, minds still clouded with love, lust and wonder.

It happened at your place. Raph had decided to stay over for the evening, so the two of you could do as so many best friends do, and hang out, talking about anything between heaven and earth, watching a movie or a tv show, or just enjoying your time together.

How the kiss came about however, is something neither you or Raph is fully aware of. One moment you were talking on the couch, laughing and having fun. The next moment he was on top of you, your lips locked together in a battle of dominance.

Your legs wrapped as far as they would go around Raph, welcoming him as he grinded against you, pushing his cloaca against your clothed core, causing sounds of pleasure to escape the two of you.

In the end, Raph won the battle of dominance, wrapping a hand around your throat, keeping you breathless in place, placing one last on your lips, before leaning back to look you directly in the eyes, your arms came up around his shoulders. And there, he told you the worlds that would start your relationship.

Donatello:

It’s hard to say when exactly you and Donnie had your first makeout session, as it was a slow progression, starting from your first kiss, to the day there was definitely no doubt what was on your mind. It was a natural progression that took place, ever since your first - sweet and innocent kiss - to the hot and heavy kiss that led to your first time together.

The first time your kiss took the first step from sweet and innocent to something more steamy, was a few weeks into you and Donnie’s relationship. Donnie was following you home, making sure that you got there safely. It was there, on your fire escape, as Donnie kissed you goodbye, that your kiss turned from a small peck, into something more intense, your lips moving together and your arms around each other, feeling each other’s shoulders, arms and torso. But at that time, it didn’t move much further than that.

The second time it took up a little more steam. With Donnie in his lab, you decided to take a seat directly on his thighs. Here your kiss just felt natural, and it felt natural for Donnie to rest his hand on your rear end, before giving it a squish, feeling your hand roam up and down his chest.

The third time was when there was no longer any doubt, that your kissing now was comfortable enough, to evolve into a full blown makeout session. This time Donnie didn’t just follow you home, but found himself pushed up against you on the fire escape, your back against the wall next to your window, grinding against each other, before you invited Donnie inside.

Michelangelo:

You and Mikey’s first makeout session was probably the most lewd and sloppiest, hot and heavy, yet a very playful thing. It was very early in your relationship with Mikey. You were over in the lair late one evening, playing video games with Mikey in the dark. It was long after the rest of Mikey’s family had gotten to bed, leaving the two of you alone on the couch.

Here the two of you laughed, playing one round of your favorite games after the other, playfully teasing each other so that you could get the upperhand in the game. It turned into the two of you playfully pushing each other to throw you off your game, to climb over each other to get in order to block each other’s view of the screen.

However, it didn’t take long before you and Mikey dropped your controllers onto the ground, forgetting all about the game playing in the background, as you found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, you straddling Mikey’s lap, with his hands on your ass, pushing you against him in fluid motions. Small moans escaped your moving lips with every laboured breath, your grinding and humping against each other only growing stronger and faster.

Not only did you and Mikey have your first makeout session on the couch in the lair, but it was on the same couch, that same evening - while keeping quiet so no one would wake up and notice - that you had your first time.

[jhyoos]

Dreams Come True

Christmas Special 🎄🎀

modern au! hockey player vi x idol! reader

summary: vi and (y/n) spend a night together downtown and have a fun time at the ice rink

notes : this is of course past tense. merry christmas everyone! 🩷

The city was dressed for the holidays, every corner dripping in festive magic. Twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts and trees, shop windows displayed intricate holiday scenes, softening the edges of the bustling world. You stood outside the hockey rink, clutching a cup of coffee you picked up along the way. Your breath puffed out in small white clouds as you waited, your hands slightly numb despite the gloves you wore.

The door rink swung open, and Vi stepped out, her hockey bag slung over her shoulder. She looked slightly out of breath, her cheeks pink from the exertion and the cold.

“Sorry,” Vi called out, jogging over, “Coach made us stay late. Some of the rookies kept screwing up the drills.” She rolled her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

You smiled softly. “You’re here now that’s all that matters.”

Vi dropped her bag at her feet and leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “You always know how to make me feel like less like an asshole,” she murmured, her voice warm and teasing. “So where to first?”

“Downtown,” you said, grabbing her hand. “We’re gonna drop your stuff and we’re gonna do all our Christmas stuff tonight.”

“All the Christmas stuff?,” Vi raised an eyebrow, feigning reluctance. But her mouth twitched upward, betraying her excitement.

“All of it,” you confirmed with a grin, tugging her toward the street.

-

The downtown streets were alive with the hum of holiday cheer. A Christmas market sprawled across several blocks, its stalls bursting with handcrafted ornaments, knitted scarves and sweet treats. The smell of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider filled the air, mingling with the faint notes of carolers singing in the distance.

As you both wandered through the bustling Christmas market, your attention was caught by a small stand selling hand-knit scarves. Among the rows of muted tones and earthy shades, a vibrant red scarf stood out, its color reminiscent of the blush that crept up Vi’s cheeks in the cold.

“Stay right here,” you said, breaking away from Vi for a moment. She picked up the scarf running her fingers over the soft fabric before turning to Vi with a mischievous grin.

“Come here,” you beckoned, looping the scarf gently around Vi’s neck. You adjusted it, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Perfect.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tugging at the scarf with mock reluctance. “Red’s not really my thing.”

You ignored her, smoothing the fabric against Vi’s coat. “Well it’s is now. You look adorable.”

Before Vi could argue, you leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her lips, your grin widening when you pulled back. “Absolutely adorable.”

Vi chuckled, her cheeks now rosy for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re keeping it,” you said matter-of-factly as you handed the vendor a few bills. You gave Vi a wink as the both of you walked away, your heart swelling at the sight of the red scarf already becoming a part of her.

You both continued your wander, stopping for hot chocolate at a stand that filled the air with the rich scent of cocoa. Vi ordered an extra whipped cream topping for you, knowing it was your favorite.

“I can’t believe how different this feels,” you said, looking around at the festive chaos.

“How so?,” Vi asked, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Just…happier, I guess. The city feels lighter, for once, everyone’s just here to enjoy something good.”

Vi tilted her head, her expression softening. “You’re the only good thing I need tonight.”

You flushed, looking down into your cup “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it,” Vi shot back with a grin, you couldn’t deny it.

-

Vi’s idea for the last stop of the night was the outdoor ice rink, nestled in the park surrounded by twinkling lights. A line of skaters weaved around the edges of the ice, their laughter and chatter adding to the festive atmosphere.

“Are you ready to show your hidden ice skating talent?,” Vi asked as she helped you lace you your skates.

“Hidden because it doesn’t exist,” you shot back, already feeling unsteady just sitting on the bench.

Vi chuckled, standing up with ease and helping you up. “Come on, you’ve got me. You’re not falling on my watch.”

You hesitated as you stepped out onto the ice, your hands gripping onto the wall for dear life. “Vi, I swear to fucking god, if I fall—“

“You won’t fall,” Vi interrupted, moving beside her. She gently took your hands, guiding you away from the edge. “Trust me. One foot in front of the other.”

You wobbled, gripping Vi’s hands tightly. “I’m trusting you, but this doesn’t feel safe.”

Vi laughed, her voice low and reassuring. “You’re fine. Look at you—you’re already moving.”

Slowly, but surely, you found your balance. Vi stayed close, her hands steadying your waist when needed. You both moved together across the rink, the cold air biting at your cheeks, but your laughters warming the spaces between you two.

As you both glided under the lights, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural Vi looked on the ice. Her confidence magnetic, her movements smooth and sure.

“You’re incredible at this,” you say sarcastically.

Vi smirked, spinning you gently in a playful circle. “I told you. Pro athlete.”

“And humble,” you teased, though your heart swelled with affection.

-

The snow began to fall more heavily, dusting off your hair as you both slowly came to a stop in the center of the rink. The crowd around seemed to be a blur, leaving the two of you under the string of lights.

Vi’s hands rested gently on your waist, her gaze soft as she looked at you. “This might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” Vi said quietly.

You smiled, brushing the snow from Vi’s jacket. “Same here. Thank you for tonight. For…everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Vi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before Vi leaned in for a kiss, a distant toll of a clock bell echoed through the frosty night air that they both paused, glancing toward the sound.

The bell rang again, deep and resonant, marking the arrival of midnight. Snow continued to fall in a delicate flurry, and the rink had grown quieter as skaters left to celebrate Christmas with their loved ones.

“It’s midnight,” Vi murmured, her breath visible in the crisp air. Her hands still gently on your waist.

You smiled as you wrapped your arms around her neck. “Merry Christmas, Vi”

Vi’s lip tugged into a small, genuine smile—the kind that you had always cherished. “Merry Christmas, trouble.”

They stood there for a moment, surrounded by the soft chime of the bells and the glow of the holiday lights, before Vi leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve asked for,” Vi said softly, her voice steady but filled with meaning.

You laughed quietly, the sound tinged with affection “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it,” Vi countered, her grin softening as she closed the distance between you two.

Your lips met in the kiss that tender yet filled with everything they hadn’t been able to say all night. It was a moment of pure connection, one that chased away the cold and left only the warmth between you. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads still touching, Vi whispered “I love you.”

Your smile only grew, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You didn’t know if it was from the cold or from pure happiness. “I love you too.”

As the final chime of the bell faded into the night, you both stood together under the falling snow, the world around you quiet and still. For one moment, it was just you two, wrapped in the magic of Christmas and the love they’d shared.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

WED. WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONEEEEEE I’M GOING TO CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP THINKING ABOUT COWBOY JOEL 😭

I WANT HIM I NEED HIM I LOVE HIM

You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

He’s totally smitten, Jesus Christ 🫠

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

Dude, it wasn’t the snoring, it was your brother’s big cock 😏

“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”

Yeah, she’s me 🥲

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

Awww, the way she’s such a softie for Blue, so on brand for me, it’s just a different animal but the way she treats him is basically the same I treat my babygirl Brienne 🥹

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

This is such a beautiful sentence and so true, ugh my heart ❤️

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

And here’s another poetic image I love so much 🥲 God, how you even came up with this sentence, it’s so perfect

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

Awwww please, giggling and kicking my feet 🥹

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

You looked into my head and wrote that, right? WTF 😭

He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”

He’s so precious, I can’t even stop, I’m YEARNING

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

Joel is exactly this for me, my rock, my loyal guy, my everything 🥹

His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.

OMG 😭🫠

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but smile.

JESUS FUCK ❤️‍🔥

Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.

Look how I’m going to cry for smut, just wait for it, this is so perfect 🥲🥲🥲

You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.

Ok, I want this or nothing, it's the sexiest thing in the world

He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.

The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.

This is so fucking HOT, he’s so desperate, I’m going insane 🥵🥵🥵

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

🫠🫠🫠

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

Yes, please, I need this right now

“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.

You take me like it’s what you’re meant for… I JUST CAN’T WHY HE’S LIKE THAT ❤️‍🔥

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

You can stay inside me 24/7, I don’t mind, I’m going to live the rest of my life with you inside.

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

OH MY GOD PLS 🫠

Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

He’s so damn cute 🥹

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

oh please, with you by my side I could look at a landfill and find it romantic, I’m not even joking

The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest.

Awwww OMG I’m going insaneeee

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.

Again, this is so damn cute, so on brand for Joel. He provides, he protects, he’s the man I love and I need 😭

You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.

Heheheheheh 🥰

He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”

Yas, baby 🥹

Awww, this made me so full of love and content, it was exactly what I needed!

And I love that you wrote a softer Joel, he’s so damn perfect, he made me all fuzzy and stupidly happy awww he’s so precious 🥹❤️

This will definitely become one of my comfort fics, you did an amazing job and I loved everything, these two are incredible characters and your writing??? Excuse me, miss, are you trying to kill me, make me so aroused I can’t even stand it and make me cry all at once? 😭❤️‍🔥

Thanks for sharing your art with us!

right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part two

wc: 9k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART ONE HERE summary: part two of 'right kind of dream': rebuilding your life, chasing, cans, and hitchin' a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

a/n: i battled five million error messages to deliver this bad boy so if something is weird or it seems like paragraphs are missing... they might be. i think some formatting got lost. i'll put the whole thing on ao3 asap. i am unsure what i've done to anger the tumblr hq but i apologize

@katiexpunk : here is part two, thank you for being patient, i hope the wait was worth it <3 tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin' that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta-mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am and for spending the afternoon fighting god to get this website to accept me thanks to: @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, and @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, and ideas, etc.

Joel wakes you up while it’s still dark, pulling your shirt over your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he mutters in a gravelly whisper.

The ache in your body is a stark reminder of everything Joel did to you. Every movement as you roll over sends a sharp jolt through your muscles, and the hollow soreness deep inside you leaves you raw.

For a moment, you lie still, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment—the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You can still feel him, the shape he carved out inside of you.

He said nothing. He didn’t gloat, didn’t tease, didn’t even try to explain. The silence felt heavier than any of his words ever could.

You can hear him outside, feeding the horses. You give in, curling up under the blanket for another hour until you figure you might miss your chance for fresh coffee from the visitor tent.

You pull on clothes, feeling hungover with anxiety twisting in your gut. Your head spins and your chest feels tight, but you march toward the picnic tables and get yourself coffee and breakfast.

You aren’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You sit at a table, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, your head pounding as though you’d downed a bottle of whiskey the night before. The anxiety sits heavy in your chest, each sip of coffee doing little to loosen its grip.

You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

You glance across the grounds, your eyes catching on Joel’s familiar silhouette near the fence. He’s leaning against the rail, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but the moment his gaze lands on you, something shifts.

Your breath catches, the air between you thick and suffocating even from across the distance. Joel tips his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but it only tightens the knot in your chest.

You tear your eyes away, focusing on the coffee in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingers, pressing into you like a brand.

You keep your distance, avoiding Joel as you move through the motions of the morning ignoring the questions and confusion gnawing at you.

The sun climbs higher, the dry heat pressing down like a heavy blanket, but the rodeo grounds are alive with movement. Dust clings to the back of your throat, blending with the faint, bitter taste of coffee as you linger near the edge of the action, pretending to watch.

You’re halfway to convincing yourself Joel’s not even here when you hear Tommy’s voice. He’s leaning on the fence, one boot propped on the bottom rail, his arm resting loosely on the top. A beautiful woman stands beside him, gorgeous with bold makeup and tight jeans, her dark hair catching the light. She laughs at something Tommy says, swatting at his chest, and he grins down at her like she’s the only person in the world.

You almost keep walking, but Tommy glances up and catches your eye, his grin widening as he waves you over. He calls your name in an easy, smooth tone.

“Morning,” you say stiffly, stopping a few paces away.

The woman glances between you and Tommy, murmuring something to him before she wanders off toward the trailers. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, tipping his hat to you with that same infuriating grin.

“You sleep alright?”

“What?” you gape at him before rushing to fix your face.

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No, slept fine. Thanks.”

He gives you another smile, and you move to lean on the fence watching the arena with him. He cocks his head, his eyes still on you.

“You worried about runnin’ Blue?” His voice is warm and light. His dark eyes sparkle with his natural charm, but it’s a genuine question.

You peel the edge of the paper coffee cup, looking past Tommy toward the warmup pen. “Yeah, I guess.” You give him a half smile. “We aren’t gunning for the NFR or anything, though.”

“Somethin’ else weighing on you, darlin’?”

You shake your head. Not willing to reveal anything else. “Heard you were up late partying with the roughstock boys and their fan club,” you accuse in a joking tone, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You aren’t worried about your own round?”

He laughs deeply at that. “Nah, that’s what a heeler’s for,” he says. “I just gotta be in the box on time. Joel’s the one that keeps us winnin’.”

“He’s not a partier?” You didn’t mean to dig, but the question slipped out anyway.

Tommy turns his head towards you, but you keep staring out at the arena, watching the crew setting up the barrels for the first division.

He studies you for a long moment, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “Joel’s not like me. Not really.” Your brow furrows. The words twist in your chest, setting your thoughts spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy chuckles again, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Let’s just say, Joel’s always had his head screwed on tighter than mine. Even when he didn’t.” You stare at him, trying to unravel the meaning behind his words, but Tommy just grins. “Joel’s a loyal kinda guy, y’know? Don’t mean he’s blind, though.” He gives you a wink and you feel heat flooding your face. “Just means he wrestles with it longer than the rest of us would.” You scowl at him for that. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Did Joel tell him? Does he know what happened? He shrugs. “Just means you’re a hell of a distraction,” Tommy says, tipping his hat. You laugh it off, but his words linger, your mind racing with questions you’re not ready to ask. You whip your head away again as if staring at the tractor raking the arena can save you from the conversation. But Tommy notices.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or prod, but you can feel the weight of his gaze as you swallow hard, your thoughts spiraling. Before you can respond, someone calls his name from across the grounds. Tommy tips his hat one last time. “Good luck out there, neighbor,” he says, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “Don’t let that head of yours get in the way.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone, your thoughts spinning, your chest burning. You push off the fence and find yourself a spot on the bleachers. They’re dusty and worn. The boards creak as you settle into a spot near the edge. You watch the first few runs.

The riders move with precision, their horses cut through the dirt with sharp, clean turns. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling names and times, but it fades into the background as you watch.

Everywhere you look, there’s something that reminds you of Joel.

The set of someone’s shoulders as they lean against the fence, the low timbre of a voice nearby, a black felt hat in the corner of your eye. You try to banish the worry and the panic creeping in.

You remember the way he watched you train with Blue. The way he offered advice that sounded more like a challenge. The way his voice cut through the air like he knew more than you. The way he looked at you last night. The raw unguarded expression you’ve never seen before.

You hate the way he makes you feel small and uncertain. You hate the way you can’t stop thinking about him.

You can’t stop remembering the way his hands felt on your skin or his tongue. The heat in his voice and the way he saw through every lie you told.

The sound of someone hitting the dirt makes you snap your head up just as the crowd around you gasps.

In the arena, a horse stands, saddle hanging nearly sideways off of it. A rider scrambles to their feet, brushing dirt from their jeans with a wave. They lead their horse out of the arena and you can hear folks around you murmuring that their latigo broke and their saddle slipped as they turned for home. The horse and the rider are both fine, but your nerves flare.

You know the risks of the sport. But it makes you head back to the trailer early to inspect all of your tack closely for anything faulty. From across the grounds, Joel watches you. He stands near the holding pen, arms crossed over his chest. You haven’t seen him yet. Not really. Not in the way he sees you.

He can feel the tension in your shoulders as you walk, the way you crush the paper coffee cup in your hand.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out to you.

He doesn’t trust himself to. He shouldn’t have touched you last night. Shouldn’t have let his jealousy boil over. Shouldn’t have taken it that far. But now, standing here, all he could think about was the way you felt underneath him. The way you said his name like he was the only thing holding you together. And the way he needs to hear it again.

By the time your division gets called to warm up, you’ve eased your worries about your tack but you’re still swimming in Joel thoughts until you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on Blue’s back.

Then the rest of the world disappears. Your ride starts off smooth, but Blue’s sensitivity is a curse and a blessing. You figure he must be picking up on some anxiety as he gets a little hot, tossing his head and pulling on the reins when you try to bring him down to a jog.

You work out most of the kinks, circling and working on transitions until he feels supple and responsive to your seat and legs. Your nerves and the energy of the other horses still have his ears swiveling and his head perked up as you wait for the rider ahead of you to be called.

You can see most of their run, it’s smooth and they put up a good time. You squeeze your calves asking Blue to head toward the alleyway, but he’s springloaded.

You hold him back as he crow hops sideways for a beat before you’re backing him up. You try making a slow circle before heading in but he’s still jigging with short, bouncy steps like he’s ready to explode.

You’re tense, holding him back and trying to stay calm, making one more circle when he starts hopping again. You can feel eyes on you from the people standing near the gate. Before you can make another circle Joel is striding towards you with swift long steps.

He grabs Blue by the bridle, speaking directly to him in a calming, low voice. You glare at him reactively, but the words die before you can formulate them.

Blue’s jittering slows and Joel leads you up the alley toward the arena. His steps are sure and confident as he guides you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him and tell him you don’t need his help. The truth is you do.

“Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, turning to you.

You gather your reins, giving him a tight nod to signal you’re ready. He lets go and steps back. Your heart pounds as you encourage Blue to push off into a lope.

The moment you cross the starting line, everything else fades.

The noise. The nerves. Even Joel. It all melts away. Just you and Blue and the rhythm of his hooves pounding against the soft dirt.

The first barrel comes fast. You guide him into a tight turn, pushing him to pick it up toward the next. His lead change is smooth as you shift your weight, leaning into the next tight turn. You’ve got your body facing the final barrel before Blue pushes off with his powerful hind legs.

You thunder toward the last barrel. His strides are strong and controlled. You’ve just gotta make this last turn without taking it too wide or knocking the barrel over.

Blue doesn’t forget his training, bending around your leg, picking up his shoulder, and you’ve got one stride left in the turn before you’re free to haul ass home.

You’ve got this.

You’ve got this.

You don’t got this.

The footing is deeper than the arena you run at on Thursday nights. Blue’s hooves slide in the loose dirt. His balance faltering. Time slows and you feel his weight tipping. There’s nothing to do but brace for the impact. His body hits the dirt in a controlled, almost graceful fall.

You hit the ground with a dull thud, the breath knocked out of you as you scramble back giving Blue room to pop back up. He shakes off the dirt, your stirrups slapping at his side and the reins nearly coming over his ears. His eyes are wide, but he stands waiting for your direction.

You catch your breath, chest still heaving from the shock. You dust the dirt off your jeans and wave off the grounds person jogging toward you. “I’m fine,” you call. “We’re fine.” Your voice is steady, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You pull his reins over his head and walk toward the end of the arena, keeping your head up and patting Blue on the neck. The crowd claps expressing support and relief that you’re both walking.

Hot, angry tears blur your vision by the time you get to the alley.

You don’t see Joel, staring at the ground as you walk, but you hear him hustling toward you calling your name. His boots crunch against the dirt as he matches your pace.

“You okay?” he asks, low and concerned.”

“Fine,” you snap, not looking at him as you speed up, pulling Blue along faster.

“It was a good-looking run you had going,” Joel says, his tone soft. “You two looked great, making good time. You can’t help the shitty footing—”

“I don’t need your pity,” you cut him off, sharp but trembling. “Not now.”

You don’t see the way his face tightens. The anger is spilling out, uncontrollable, and you don’t care if it cuts.

“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”

“Hey, easy.” He tries to interrupt you gently, like a spooked horse. “Nothing like that.”

“You think I’m dumb, too?” You keep jabbing him with questions as you get closer to the trailer, not caring if anyone else hears. “Just another woman that fell into your bed at another rodeo.”

“Enough,” Joel says steady and low, but you don’t hear him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” you snap, your voice cracking. “Didn’t think they were true, to be honest. Didn’t seem like you. Guess I don’t really know you though, do I?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes flashing with hurt, but you’re too far gone to notice.

“You know, maybe I was stupid.” Your voice shakes as tie Blue at the trailer to untack. “But for a while, I thought I was finally starting to feel like myself out here. Like I was where I was supposed to be. And now—” Your words catch in your throat. Tears streaming down your face. You shake your head, stopping yourself from revealing anything else. You turn away from Joel and start running your hands along Blue’s legs to check for any swelling from the fall.

Joel doesn’t move for a long beat. He stands rigid, watching you wrestle with your emotions as you work. Finally, Joel exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. His voice is tight when he speaks. “I’ll leave you be.”

He walks away before you can respond, his footsteps heavy against the dirt. Your shoulders sag as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind the hollow ache of exhaustion. Your hands tremble as you finish untacking and brushing Blue, but you keep moving, your touch soft against his sweat-damp coat. “You did nothing wrong,” you murmur.

Fresh tears pool in your eyes. “You’re a good boy, Blue. You did exactly what we practiced.” Blue snorts softly, his ears flicking back toward you, and you lean into him, pressing your forehead against the warm curve of his neck. “I was the one who fucked up,” you admit, your words muffled against his dark coat. The truth spills out in quiet, broken pieces.

“I should’ve been watching the other riders closer this morning. Should’ve caught how deep the footing was at the far barrel.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “Instead of thinking about how I could still feel his hands on me. Or wondering if he’s thinking about me.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Blue shifts beneath you, his weight leaning into your side like he knows you need the grounding.

You pull back, wiping at your face quickly before running your hands over Blue one more time, checking for any swelling or signs of injury. You move methodically, your touch steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

The afternoon stretched on at the rodeo, the sun climbing high and unrelenting.

You do your best to avoid the temptation to look for Joel, though he somehow has a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mostly it was false alarms and your eyes playing tricks on you. But once or twice you saw him watching other events. He never seemed to notice you, or if he did he gave no indication.

You hadn’t decided if you were avoiding him out of anger, shame, or if it was because the thought of being near him again after last night still made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to examine. You’re still burying that last thought somewhere deep when you catch the flash of Joel’s red mare striding through the arena.

You can see Joel and Tommy putting their horses through some practice just past the main arena.

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch them. Joel has a different aura about him when he’s in the saddle. He seems lighter somehow. Relaxed, but with a quiet command. He guides his horse in a way that looks effortless. His body moving in perfect harmony with hers. Tommy’s horse was a little snappier, making quick sharp turns. The pair of riders worked together naturally, movements fluid and precise as they get their practice in.

It was mesmerizing. Infuriatingly so.

You leaned back, trying to tear your gaze away, but your eyes betrayed you, drawn back to continue admiring him. The longer you watch the more it stirs up something unwelcome in your chest. You can’t keep letting him occupy so much space in your mind or your memories.

He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t respect you. He didn’t even argue when you laid it all out in your outburst after your run. He just walked away from you.

But there’s something in the way he carries himself. Something in the way he rides, the way he works with his horse, that hints at something different than what you know. Something that makes you curious.

You blink, realizing Joel’s head was turned toward the bleachers. For a second you think his eyes are on you and you quickly look away. When you glance back he’s already turned his attention back to something else.

Embarrassment wraps around your throat. This is why you had to avoid him. His presence alone seems to demand every ounce of your attention without even trying.

Before you can drown in your own emotional turmoil, an unfamiliar voice calls your name.

You see Cody waving a few rows down and give him a polite smile before agreeing to join him and his friends. Spending the rest of the evening with them feels like a safety buffer.

You don’t see Joel or Tommy when you get dinner. You watch some of the evening events before splitting from the group to check on Blue.

It’s nearly dark as you walk through the grounds. Your chest feels tighter with every step you take as you approach.

You’re hoping you don’t run into Joel—or Tommy and his knowing eyes. You let yourself into the pen, the noise from the announcer and the crowd are muffled by the distance.

There was a stillness in the dusk and the horses were calm.

Blue’s head swivels toward you as you approach. You pause to untie the braid in his tail before stepping between him and Joel’s horse. It’s not until that moment that you realize you aren’t alone. You freeze when your eyes land on Joel. He’s standing between his horse and yours, posture relaxed. The external light on the horse trailer casts shadows over his face making it hard to read his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say softly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He responds with a small shrug and shake of his head. “Nothing to interrupt.”

You still feel frozen, like concrete had been poured around your feet. You’ve been carrying the weight of your earlier outburst in your shoulders, and the rest of your muscles are still stiff from hitting the dirt earlier. Maybe that’s why your defenses feel lower, or maybe something else has shifted, but the next words come out before you have a real plan.

“Look, about earlier,” you start with more confidence than you feel. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, gaze fixed on Blue who huffs a warm breath out after nudging Joel’s pocket in search of a treat. When he finally speaks, it’s quiet but firm.

“You had every right to be upset.”

You frown at that, a line pulling between your brows in confusion, and you shake your head. “No, I didn’t. I was angry, frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He works his jaw like he’s mulling something over, before letting out a sigh. You move closer to give Blue a scratch under his jaw. The spot that always makes him wiggle his lip. You see Joel’s expression softening.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says finally. “Trying to rebuild somethin’ when it feels like the world’s stacked against you. Trying to remember who you are. What matters most.”

You tilt your head, curiosity pulling at you. His words sound familiar for a moment. That conversation you’d had after stacking hay. “When you bought the property from my dad?”

He nods. “Bought the place after my ex split. Had to sell the business. Start over. Build somethin’ from scratch while trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like.”

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” you echo your past statement. He laughs a short, humorless sound.

“Sure ain’t. I know I made mistakes along the way.”

You stay quiet, letting the words hang in the air.

“It’s easy to get yourself a reputation in a small town,” he continues, tinged with regret. “I spent a while chasing somethin’ I couldn’t even name. Thought I could skip the pain with sex, drinking, and spending every weekend hauling to any rodeo I could afford the entrance fees for.”

His confession sinks over you, and you feel a pang of understanding.

“Took a while to figure it that it wasn’t working. Wasn’t who I was… or who I wanted to be.”

“I get that,” you say softly. You drop your gaze, not quite sure how to say it. “Not the same circumstances, but,” you take a slow breath, “I had a reputation back at my old job. It wasn’t true but it didn’t matter. Once people decide who you are, it’s like there’s nothing you can do to change it.

You feel his eyes on you. “That why you came out here?”

“Sort of.” You run your hand under Blue’s mane, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you.

“Hated the job. Spent a lot of time and money in school to get there, and I dreaded going to the office every day.” You swallow thickly, still not sure you can look Joel in the eye.

“Then my engagement fell apart. The more we tried to split up our lives the more I realized none of it was my life. None of it was me. I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what mattered.”

“Takes guts to start over,” Joel says with a current of finality about it. Like it’s a fact. “Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.”

His words warm something deep inside of you, but they also make your eyes well up. You blink away the tears before you look to Joel’s face. His eyes are steady on yours. You offer a small smile.

“Feels less like guts and more like desperation most of the time.”

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

A heavy lump in your throat makes it difficult to respond, but you push yourself to be vulnerable. “I came out here to figure myself out and to do it on my own. I wanted to prove it to myself. But, then today, I got so caught up in my own head that I almost got us both hurt.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says quietly.

“I should’ve been paying better attention. Should’ve asked the other riders about the footing. Or—” your voice cracks and you pause to slow down your spiraling thoughts.

Joel moves closer, his presence solid. Anchoring. “You’re hard on yourself,” he says it soft, but firm. “You’ve got grit. You work your ass off. That’s what matters.”

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

“I know so. I see you. The way you handle Blue, the balance you strike with your dad, the way you work twice as hard as most folks at a part-time job and still have time to learn the names of every old farmer in 50 miles that comes in once a month.”

You laugh at that, feeling something warm blooming in your chest. His eyes soften, and you’re drawn to the lines on his face.

“I’ve seen the way you push yourself even when you’re tired, the way you’re determined to bring out the best in yourself and others. Even those of us with a history.” He runs his hand along the scar tissue on Blue’s shoulder. The horse that broke a girl’s jaw.

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and you feel like your ribs have been pulled open, exposing your heart and soul in the moonlight.

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

Hearing Joel’s praise feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders.

“Joel,” you start, but your voice falters. The way he’s looking at you feels intense. Almost too much. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.

He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”

The slip in his voice–the raw, unguarded admiration–sends a flush of heat through you. Shit. The praise was already overwhelming, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s too much. Or not enough.

His centering presence somehow has you rocked off balance.

Suddenly you’re closer, the space between you charged. Humming like one of the generators at the other campsites.

His hand brushes your cheek, gentle but deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Everything that has been simmering between you feels like it’s about to boil over.

The rest of the rodeo disappears. Standing there in the moonlight, the world around you dissolves into quiet, only his gravity pulling you closer.

Joel’s hand lingers just long enough on your cheek to make heat crawl up your neck and coil in your belly. Before you can close the distance he pulls back, clearing his throat and stepping away. He moves slowly and deliberately, giving you space to retreat if you want to.

But you don’t.

Instead, you follow him out of the pen, your feet carrying you toward the trailer without thought.

The silence between you is loud, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken words and feelings, each step drawing you toward something you haven’t named yet. When he opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, the creak of the hinges feels impossibly loud.

Inside, the trailer is layered in soft shadows from the glow of a warm lamp. Joel closes the door behind you, and the quiet feels delicate. He stands a few paces away, his hat in hand, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for any sign of doubt.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

When you find your voice, it’s softer than you expected. “Yeah.”

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, and the warmth in his eyes eases some of the nervous energy bouncing around in your chest. He hangs his hat on the hook near the door. The image of him reaching past you to hang it on the same hook last night flares in your mind and buzzes through your skin.

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

“Earlier,” he begins, “when I said I respect the hell outta you… I meant it.”

He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and solid. Your senses are heightened from the emotionally raw conversation, from his touch, and the warm, spiced scent of him wrapping around you. “I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed to be here. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe.

“And you’ve got no idea how much I—”

He cuts himself off, searching your face. His breath is warm, so close to your face. His lips look soft, so close to yours.

You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s nothing like the night before. It’s tender. Slow. Sprawling. Unspoken affection passes between you with the slip of your tongues and the soft sounds in your throat.

Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, every thought and worry dissolving into the sensation of your lips on his. Softer than he ever let himself imagine, a sweetness he didn’t think he deserved. The warmth of you seeps into him, steadying him even as it sends electricity down his spine.

His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.

So soft, he thinks, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist. Every inch of you pressed against him feels like fire and solace all at once. His other hand roams over your back, the delicate shift of muscle beneath his palm grounding him in the reality that you’re here, with him.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, but there’s no space left between you. His palm glides down your spine, lighting you from within. When you break apart, softly breathing in each other’s air, his forehead rests against yours, eyes dark and soft as they hold your gaze.

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but smile.

“I might have some idea,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, but your smile grows wider.

Then he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his hands moving to your hips and guiding you toward the bed. His touch is everywhere, his lips tracing a path from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss making you feel lighter and warmer.

He continues to pour his confessions into your skin between each article of clothing he pulls off of you. "I thought I’d never have this. Never have you. But here you are, and you’re perfect." The words spill out of him unbidden, each one carrying a weight he’s carried for far too long. His hands tremble slightly as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down your clavicle, between the swell of your breasts, over the smooth fabric of your bra.

"I used to hate that I wanted you, that I thought about having you like this. But I don’t want to stop, sweetheart.” He unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders, replacing the cups with his palms, kneading your plush flesh. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands sends sparks through him, and he leans in, brushing his lips over the sensitive peaks.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you murmur back. He hums in response to you, rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking his time mouthing, sucking, licking at each of them until you moan and arch toward him.

“I spent too many nights trying not to think about you,” he confesses, his voice dipping lower. “And cursing myself for it.” He shifts down, between your legs to pull your jeans off. It feels like he’s just handed you a piece of himself you didn’t expect to see. The idea of him, alone and thinking about you, shifts something in your mind. It’s not just desire he carries for you. Is it something deeper?

He runs his hands along your bare legs, warm against your smooth skin. He already looks wrecked and he’s still fully clothed. You reach for him, but he shakes his head, dipping to line another path of kisses down your belly, to the sensitive skin inside the top of your thighs. His lips press against your skin, reverent, as if trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. His admiration and desire are intense, making you feel stripped bare in an emotional way. He’s not just saying it; he means it in a way that feels different from casual compliments.

Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.

The heat of his touch and the need in his eyes have your core aching for attention. His breath ghosting over your swollen cunt makes you shudder with need.

When his lips press against the thin fabric still covering you, you arch into him. You feel him smile against you, breathing deeply before he slides his hands beneath your thighs, cupping your ass to tilt your hips before he descends again.

He kisses and sucks at your clit through your soaked panties without a care for the lewd sounds filling the small room. He doesn’t stop. It’s warm and wet, and the pressure makes you feel needy. You roll your hips seeking more contact, and he moans against you, the sound vibrating through you causing you to gasp and call out his name.

He looks up at you before pulling your underwear off and pausing to stare at your glistening cunt, before taking all of you in. His eyes dart to your face, all of your exposed skin, and back to your eyes.

“I never thought I’d actually get to touch you. To kiss you. Taste you like this.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the sound of your breath.

“Please, Joel.” He’s like a dream between your legs. His mouth, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. He uses everything with expert precision, bringing you closer and closer and erasing every worry, every stress.

You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.

His hips press into the mattress involuntarily, seeking relief for his throbbing cock as he continues to worship you with his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged already.

He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.

The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.

It tips you over the edge, chanting his name like a prayer as your release crashes through you. Your walls contract around his fingers and your muscles tense as he groans into your wet flesh before pulling back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs from between your legs, “you did good for me, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You’re boneless as the words melt into you. But you know you wanted to say something before he made your vision blur.

Your breath comes in slow, uneven waves as you blink at the ceiling, reality slowly settling back into your body. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and heavy with affection and need, and you realize the thought that had slipped away moments ago was this: you need to feel him, to see him.

“Joel,” you manage, your voice low and hoarse, your fingers brushing weakly at his forearm. He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips as he leans closer.

“What is it, baby?”

You swallow hard, the words tangled in your throat as you try to gather your strength. “Off,” you rasp, fingers tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re all right first.”

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

Something in your voice snaps the tension in him. His jaw tightens, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt in one smooth motion, tugging it over his head.

The sight of him leaves you breathless. Broad shoulders tapering to a firm waist, his skin golden and littered with scars and years of hard work. He looks wrecked, his chest rising and falling as though he’s been holding himself back for too long.

“Goddamn,” you whisper, as your mouth hangs open. Your gaze drops lower, taking in the soft lines of his abdomen, and the trail of dark hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.

And then, as he unbuttons them and pushes them down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed and so fucking perfect it sends a scalding wave of desire rolling through you.

You’re expression fills Joel with pride. The hunger in your eyes makes his cock twitch, the intensity of your gaze threatening to knock him over right there.

You sit up slightly, your hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist gently, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. He eases you back onto the mattress, his hands warm and firm against your hips. “Not this time, baby.”

You whine softly, your need pulsing through every word. “Please, fuck, I need you.”

His pupils blow wide, his breathing uneven as he settles between your legs. “You need me?” he repeats, his tone darkening, the words laced with a feral edge that makes you dizzy.

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

The shift in his tone sends a fresh rush of slick between your thighs. His hand trails up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he watches you.

“Gonna make you mine. Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel it in you every time you move.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes your body burn, your hips rocking up toward him involuntarily. “Joel, please,” you beg, your voice raw and edged with frustration as he drags the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you.

“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.

You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, his hips flush against yours, his cock filling you completely. “Look at you,” he coos. “Such a good girl for me.” The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking to life as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

Your walls flutter around him, your body already begging for more. “Joel,” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”

He obliges, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, dragging out the intensity of every sensation. His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispers praise between each movement. “You’re so good for me, baby. So damn good.”

Your body writhes beneath him, the pleasure building with each heavy stroke. “More,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. I need more.”

The last of his restraint dissolves as he grips your hips and begins to move harder, faster, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere. The pace steals the breath from your lungs, threatening to consume you.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough and unrestrained. “Take it. All of me.”

Your cries fill the air, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hands hold you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you as he claims you.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his gaze locked on the spot where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears every time he sinks into you. “So perfect, takin’ me so well. Made for this. Made for me.”

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

Again it’s the deep satisfaction you get from his unrestrained desire that makes you come with a blinding intensity. You try to tell him how close you are before you’re violently sucked into the sensations.

Your walls clench around him, making him shudder and groan. You try to beg him to come too. To fill you up. You’re unsure if the words make it past your thoughts, but he’s pulled into it with you either way.

Moments later, a deep groan vibrates through his chest as he tenses and his hips jerk against you. It feels like bliss, the sensation of his cock pulsing within you, the heat of his release coating your walls as they flutter around him.

The room falls into a warm quiet, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and the faint sounds of people laughing and shouting at another campsite, reminding you the rest of the world still exists.

Joel’s weight presses into you, grounding you in the present. He doesn’t pull away, softening inside of you as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Just stay with me.”

He shifts you both just enough to hold tight against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as his hand smooths down your side. “So good,” he murmurs, “so perfect,” voice rough but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.

The early morning sun stretches over the rodeo grounds, bathing everything in a wash of pink hues. You wake to the soft hum of voices outside the trailer and the thud of a bale of hay being dropped just outside the trailer.

Joel’s weight shifts beside you as he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt. The sound pulls a smile to your lips as you turn to face him. His eyes blink open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and he offers you a lazy smile that you mirror involuntarily.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw.

There’s a content silence between you before a loud knock rattles the trailer door, making you both jump. Tommy’s voice rings out cheerfully, "Y’all better get movin’ if you don’t wanna miss breakfast."

Joel groans, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "That boy’s got the worst damn timing."

You stifle a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Joel watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and unguarded, before he stretches and follows suit.

The three of you sit at a picnic table near the cook tent, balancing plates of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as the camp buzzes with early morning energy. Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, chatters on about their schedule and the competition, occasionally tossing in jokes that have you laughing despite yourself. Joel leans back in his seat, his body language is relaxed but his eyes are constantly flicking to you.

When Tommy excuses himself to check on their horses, Joel leans forward, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not real subtle, you know.”

You shoot him a mock glare, your cheeks warming. “Says the man who’s been staring at me all morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Joel shrugs.

Later, you find yourself perched on the edge of a fence near the arena, watching Joel and Tommy warm up their horses. Their movements are fluid and synchronized; you openly admire their skill.

Tommy tips his hat to you with a grin as they pass, and you wave back, your gaze inevitably drifting back to Joel. He glances your way, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes your heart skip.

The arena is alive with energy as their division gets underway. You lean against the rail, your fingers gripping the cool metal as you watch Joel and Tommy back their horses into the box.

The chute gate flies open, the steer bolting into the arena with Joel and Tommy in swift pursuit. Joel’s rope swings in a perfect arc, catching the steer cleanly around the horns as Tommy moves in to secure the heels. The crowd cheers as they pull the steer to a stop, their time flashing on the scoreboard.

The announcer calls their time and updates the standings. Joel and Tommy have the best time in their division so far.

You can’t help but cheer, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd as Joel and Tommy ride back toward the holding pen, their smiles wide and triumphant. Joel catches your eye as he passes, tipping his hat to you with a grin that makes your stomach flutter.

When they dismount near the gate, you meet them with a smile. "You two make that look way too easy."

Tommy laughs. "He’s the header," he tilts his head toward Joel. “I can’t do shit if he misses.”

Joel shakes his head, deflecting the comment.

“It’s a team event,” you counter. “Both of you are good at what you do.”

“We should bring her with us more often,” Tommy jokes.

Joel gives you another warm look with unspoken words.

“Your head wouldn’t fit in your damn hat if you had someone talking you up after every run,” Joel mocks. As they both swing their legs over the back of their saddles. You turn to watch as they lead their horses back to the trailer. You want to follow and stay close to Joel for the rest of the day, but you stay put.

Trying not to let Tommy in on whatever’s happening between the two of you until you figure it out for yourself. Instead, you head back to the fence to watch the next pair of team ropers. You’d rather be near him, but staying put feels safer—for now.

The afternoon sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rodeo grounds. You sit beside Joel on the bleachers, the two of you a quiet bubble of calm amid the hum of spectators around you. The events continue below—tie-down ropers hopping into the dirt, saddle bronc riders gripping for dear life trying to stick it out for eight seconds, bareback riders up next.

Joel leans back, one arm draped across the bench behind you, his body close enough that the heat of him radiates against your side. He’s quiet, but his presence feels steady and grounding. Every so often, his knee brushes yours, the brief contact enough to send a subtle thrill through you.

“You doin’ all right?” Joel asks, his voice low and soft. His gaze lingers on you, dark eyes warm but searching.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “This is nice. I didn’t think I’d enjoy just sitting and watching this much.”

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

Your cheeks warm, but you’re spared from responding by the announcer introducing the next rider. Joel shifts beside you, his attention briefly pulled to the arena. You let yourself steal a glance at him—the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet confidence in his posture. He catches you looking and tips his hat, the subtle smirk that follows sending warmth blooming in your chest.

As the next rider lines up, Joel pulls his hat off, setting it on your lap. You blink, startled, and look at him.

“Put it on,” he says simply, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes—a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.

You hesitate for only a moment before lifting the Stetson and settling it on your head. It’s big, a little too big, but it smells faintly of leather and him. Joel’s gaze lingers on you, his lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

The weight of the gesture settles over you—the tradition, the meaning behind it. The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest. You’re not sure what to say, so you lean into his side slightly, letting the moment and the warmth of him settle over you like a blanket.

Later, as the afternoon begins to mellow, Joel takes your hand and guides you to the cook tent for dinner. It feels almost natural to walk hand in hand, weaving through the crowd of people. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversations and laughter from the other riders and their families.

Joel insists on getting your plate, waving you off with a playful, “Sit tight. I’ll take care of you.” You settle at a nearby table, watching as he weaves through the crowd with ease, stopping to exchange a word or two with acquaintances before returning with two heaping plates.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re at a rodeo. The noise and bustle fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a comfortable bubble of companionship. Joel’s low chuckle as you tell him a story about your first job, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the warmth in his voice when he says your name—it all feels so natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As the sun begins to dip lower, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Joel stands and offers you his hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s find a good spot for the bull riders. We can cheer for your new friend.”

You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.

He leads you back toward the bleachers. The two of you settle in as the crowd starts to gather, the energy of the evening event buzzing around you. Joel drapes his arm casually along the back of the bench again, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds you, making you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.

Tommy and the woman you’ve seen him spending most of the weekend with join you to watch a few rounds. You tense as they come toward the steps, shifting to create space between you and Joel, trying to seem casual. You feel Joel’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything about your move.

Tommy shoots you a wink before they take the seats next to you. It makes you squirm, but you tell yourself he’s always just playful like that. Too charming for his own good.

They stay and chat long enough to finish their drinks before heading back to watch the rest of the event with her group of friends.

Joel stays seated beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the bench, his other hand resting on his thigh. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that feels like its own kind of conversation.

Finally, Joel clears his throat, turning slightly to face you. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with something earnest and determined.

“I know this might be the wrong time to bring this up,” he begins, commanding your attention just with the timbre of his voice pulling at your heart, “but I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about where I’m at.”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “Where you’re at?”

He nods, his gaze holding yours. “Look, I know your dad’s a good man, and I don’t want to cross any lines. But I also don’t want to miss my chance with you.” He pauses, his hand brushing against yours where it rests on your lap. “I don’t want this to be our only day together, and I won’t have you sneakin’ out your bedroom window and hoppin’ the fence to see me. S’just not the kind of man I am.”

Your heart stutters as his words sink in. There’s no wavering in his voice, no attempt to downplay what he’s saying. He’s laying it out plainly, his honesty disarming in a way you didn’t expect.

“So what are you saying?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”

Your chest swells. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.” Relief washes over his face, and he leans close to you.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re such a true-blue cowboy, you’re gonna have to be the one to tell my dad.”

Joel nods. “I’ll handle it.” His voice is quieter, but honest. His gaze seems to look a little far away.

You squeeze his hand. “We’ll handle it.” You give him an encouraging smile. “Don’t have to do everything by ourselves right?”

He gives you a warm look. “Right.” He dips toward you for a chaste kiss. It’s sweet and playful. “Just don’t make me wait too long to take you out proper,” he rumbles as he pulls his head back.

You laugh airily, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his arm around you, the weight of his hat still on your head, and the quiet promise of what’s to come settle over you, the world around you fading into a comfortable hum of possibilities for you and your cowboy Joel.

thank you for reading! pls let me know what you think <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics tags for babes in case they want some cowboy joel: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[leighsartworks216]

Worship

Sylus x fat!fem!Reader

I am a firm believer in Sylus with a fat partner and nothing will change my mind on this

Warnings: mentions of being fat, mentions of a fupa, dresses, teasing, kissing, biting, bruises mentioned, spicy but not full smut

Word Count: 739

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Are your eyes closed?" you call out from behind the divider.

Sylus's fond chuckle reaches your ears like one of his many vinyls, beautiful but with a slightly roughened quality that makes it feel special. "Yes, sweetie," he calls in return. "My eyes have been closed for the last five minutes."

You roll your eyes. "They have not!"

"Careful, kitten, or I'll open them right now."

"Okay, okay! Keep them closed!" He hums his acquiescence.

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror. The black dress you bought with your own card (and bribed Mephisto not to spoil) sits beautifully on your body. Two slits along the sides reach up to your waist, exposing the flesh of your hips and thighs, all the way down your legs. The front hangs precariously between them, barely leaving anything to the imagination. With a low cut neckline, your cleavage is on full display, practically pouring out over the supportive cups.

You look gorgeous, but you can't help feeling a bit nervous. You're not exactly skinny; certainly not the body type they imagined this dress would be worn on. But you couldn't resist! You'd grabbed it on a whim, and when you tried it on in the store, all you could think about was Sylus's reaction to it. It's like nothing you've ever worn before. You just hope he'll like it.

With a deep breath, you step out from behind the divider. "Okay," you say, far more breathless than you want to. "You can look now."

If you could have recorded his face, oh gods above.

When his eyes opened, they latched immediately onto you, slowly raking up and down your form, determined not to miss a single detail. Which was all well and good, but his expression.

That smug smirk of his fell into an open-mouth gape. You knocked his smirk clean off his face! Not only that, you can see the way his throat bobs, swallowing his saliva as he tries not to absolutely drool over you. You take a step forward and his eyes rocket down to watch the fabric as it exposes your leg. His eyes are dark as sin when they finally meet yours again.

"You look ravishing, kitten," he purrs, voice low. He holds out a hand, legs spreading to make room for you. "Come here."

You bite your lip to try hiding the giddy grin that wants to break out. Every step is tracked by him, following the flow of the dress. You think he nearly loses his mind when it slips to the side just a hair further than before and exposes the precious skin of your fupa.

You take his hand. He guides you down to sit on his leg. One hand supports your back, but the other lets go of yours and glides up the expanse of your thigh, from your knee to your hip. He presses featherlight kisses to your collarbones with a soft groan of appreciation. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" He nips at your skin. "My beloved, if you could see a fraction of my thoughts right now..."

"Hm. So you don't like it?" you tease.

He growls, biting more firmly at the skin of your neck as he grips like a lifeline at your thigh, forming divots under his fingers that you hope will bruise. His hot tongue laves over the imprint of his teeth, drawing delicious sounds from your throat. "Do I have to spend the rest of the night showing you just how much I adore this on you?"

"On me?" You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly as he trails kisses and nibbles along your jaw. "You're acting like you want to rip it off of me."

"Mm, not tonight." His hand releases your thigh to slip under the dress. He starts at your stomach, feeling the warmth of your body, the heat you radiate with every kiss and caress. But soon he trails lower, over your curves and folds, until his long fingers are sliding along your wet slit, unimpeded with your lack of underwear. He nearly moans at the feel of you coating his hand, as you try to shift your hips to chase after the friction he so willingly provides. "Tonight, I want you just like this," he whispers, breathing heavily with want as he sucks at your earlobe. "My beautiful angel...

"Will you let me worship you?"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[woozinhos]

Hi!! I love ur blog!🤗

This is such a random request and if it makes you uncomfortable, by no means do you have to write it. I was wondering if you could write like — reader and dk have a baby and they were just about to get alone time together but right when things start heating up, the baby starts crying in the next room over and needs attention … does that make sense 😭😭 thank youuuuu🥰

Stop this is such a cute idea I’ve got this bae dw I hope you enjoy it hehe

Dokyeom and you were finally alone together, after what felt like an eternity of being interrupted and having to take care of the baby. You were both eager to finally spend some quality time together, and the anticipation had been building all day. As you made your way to the bedroom, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. You were finally going to be able to give in to your desires, without any interruptions. Dokyeom sits down on the edge of the bed, a smirk on his face as he pats his lap.

"Come here," he says, his voice low and commanding. "I want you in my lap."

You eagerly walk over to him, a smile spreading across your face as you straddle his lap. Dokyeom's hands immediately find their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he looks up at you with a mixture of desire and love.

"I've been waiting all day for this," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

Dokyeom's lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he pulls you even closer. The kiss is hungry and desperate, a release of pent-up desire that had been building for far too long. His tongue slides into your mouth, exploring and claiming as he deepens the kiss. Dokyeom obliges, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck.

He kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he makes his way down to your collarbone. His hands continue to roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of skin that he can reach. Dokyeom lays you down on the bed, his body pressing against yours as he continues to kiss and explore your skin.

He moves lower, his lips trailing down your chest and stomach, leaving a path of heat in their wake. His hands follow, tracing the curves of your body as he worships every inch of you. Dokyeom looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he speaks.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust. "Laying here, completely at my mercy."

Dokyeom kisses his way back up your body, his lips hovering over your ear as he whispers to you.

"I've missed this so much," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Being alone with you, being able to touch you, to kiss you, to worship your body the way it deserves to be worshipped."

Dokyeom nips at your earlobe before continuing.

"I've missed the way you feel against me, the way you respond to my touch," he says, his hands roaming over your body once more. "The sounds you make when I touch you just right."

Dokyeom quickly strips off his clothes, revealing his toned and muscular body to you. He grins at the look on your face, enjoying the way your eyes rake over his form hungrily.

"Like what you see, huh?" he teases, crawling back onto the bed and hovering over you.

Dokyeom's hands slide under your shirt, his fingers grazing against your skin as he lifts the fabric up and over your head. He tosses the shirt aside, his eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

"You're so gorgeous," he murmurs, his gaze roaming over your bare skin. "And you're all mine."

Dokyeom's hands make quick work of removing the rest of your clothes, his movements efficient yet still filled with desire. He pulls off your pants and underwear in one smooth motion, leaving you completely bare beneath him. Dokyeom lets out a low groan as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with need.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "I need you so badly, baby. I need to be inside you right now."

Dokyeom positions himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he looks down at you.

"Are you ready for me?" he asks, his voice low and commanding. "Are you ready to feel me fill you up completely?"

You look up at Dokyeom, your voice filled with need as you speak.

"Yes, please," you breathe, your body aching for him. "I need you too, I need to feel you inside me."

Dokyeom's expression falters, his body tense as he hears the sound of the baby crying in the other room. He looks down at you, frustration and desire warring in his eyes. Dokyeom lets out a frustrated sigh, his grip on your hips tightening for a moment before he releases you.

"Damn it," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Not now."

"I know," you say, disappointment evident in your voice. "We were so close."

Dokyeom nods, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"I know," he repeats, his eyes still dark with desire. "I was so close to finally having you all to myself, and then the damn baby had to ruin it."

Dokyeom nods, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"We'll have to take care of the baby first," he says reluctantly, pulling away from you and standing up from the bed.

“Put a robe on love,”

Dokyeom sighs and grabs a robe from the closet, slipping it on over his naked body. He gives you a look that says he'd rather be doing anything else right now, but he knows he has to take care of the baby.

You watch as Dokyeom leaves the room to go check on the baby, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration. You sit up in bed, running a hand through your hair as you wait for him to return. After a few minutes, Dokyeom reappears in the doorway, a tired expression on his face.

"She's fine now," he says, closing the door behind him. "She just wanted attention."

Dokyeom grins at you as he tosses the robe aside, his eyes raking over your body once more.

"Now where were we?" he asks, his voice low and seductive as he saunters back towards the bed.

You laugh looking at him trying to be sexy. “Come here then you idiot” You smile at him.

Dokyeom laughs along with you, crawling back onto the bed and hovering over you again.

"You're calling me an idiot when you're the one who looks like a goddess right now?" he teases, leaning down to nuzzle your neck.

“Shut up and kiss me,” You smile.

Dokyeom grins against your skin, his lips trailing up to your jaw before he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. He pushes his body against yours, his hands roaming over your curves as he kisses you deeply.

[fae-renjun]

...AND EVERY CHRISTMAS AFTER — o.so

PAIRING oh sion x fem!reader ── .✦ GENRE childhood friends to lovers, fluff, very mild angst ── .✦ WARNINGS just kissing, the most fluff i've ever written ── .✦ SYNOPSIS in which you’ve spent every christmas growing up with sion, and if you’re lucky, you’ll spend every christmas after with him too. ── .✦ A/N this is my entry for the @k-films 2024 advent calendar! ── .✦ WC 1.4k+

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 11:27am

It’s Christmas day, and the whole house is alive and in a hurry. Shouts of “mom, where’s my sweater?” and “get out! I need to use the bathroom!” fill the air, drowning out George Michael’s voice in Last Christmas as it plays from the living room speakers. Frantic relatives rush through the hallways past fairy lights and fake wreaths to get ready for the guests to arrive. It’s the first year in your life that the guests haven’t stayed over on Christmas eve. 

“Y/N, can you make me hot chocolate?” shouts Sakuya from the floor above. “Why would I?” you reply to the brother in question. “I’ll do your dishes tonight.” “Deal.”

While you stir away at the two cups of hot chocolate in front of you, it becomes difficult to get your mind off the foreboding you’d felt in the pit of your stomach since waking up that day. You love your family, you really do. Winter break has been beyond fun with your cousins in town. But just this once you wish you could spend Christmas at your friend’s party instead. Just so you could avoid him. You still don’t have it in you to face him. Not after last December.

Almost as if your thoughts hold summoning powers, the doorbell rings, “Kids, come to the living room, they’re here!”

You walk out of the kitchen to face the family of your mother’s best friend, including her son: Oh Sion. The boy you hadn’t seen since new years, when you took a chance and kissed him and he didn't kiss back. The boy who stared back in disbelief after you pulled away which was more than enough to add to your mortification. The boy you’d made every effort to avoid all year.

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 24th december 2016, 7:54pm

“They’re so stupid, why would they use that door?”

“The point of the movie is that they’re stupid Sion.”

“Okay, but-”

Before the argument you’re having over Home Alone can go on any longer, your mother shushes both of you, “be quieter, everyone else is trying to watch the movie too.”

You lock eyes with Sion and then both of you turn back to your mother, “Now you’re just lying mom.”

“Yeah Mrs.L/N, it’s a kids movie, none of the adults here care. Not even you.”

“And Saku isn’t even old enough to know what’s going on.”

Your mother reopens her mouth as if to say something, but then seems to change her mind, smiling at the two of you and shaking her head. The two of you turn back to the movie as she turns to Sion’s mom, saying something about how no matter how much the pair of you bickered, you had a habit of standing up for yourselves together. If nine-year-old you cared to listen, you would have heard them say they hoped you two stayed this way forever.

It’s Christmas eve, you’re sitting next to a boy you would realise you loved 5 years later, and your mothers already think you are meant to be. 

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 12:02pm

Since he got here, you had avoided eye contact, excused yourself to finish making hot chocolate, excused yourself to go to the bathroom, excused yourself to set up the lunch table. Alas, there were only so many excuses you could make before being forced to sit in the living room with everyone else. By some Christmas miracle, when you got there the only open seat was the one right next to Sion.

Sion shifted to the side, making more space for you to sit, but instead you maneuvered yourself to sit on the carpeted floor right next to the Christmas tree. You manage to get through a lot of the wait time before lunch by eating candy, drinking your hot chocolate, only speaking when asked a question (usually “yes my studies are going great” or “yes, I've started looking at a few colleges”), and most importantly by looking everywhere except at him. Yet, your mother just had to shatter your nearly flawless streak of avoidance.

“Y/N, why don’t you get some hot chocolate for Sion too?”

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2021, 1:27am

“Shhh, they’ll hear!” you whisper-yelled at him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

You just shook your head in response and reached over to redirect the light from the phone in his hand to the stairs in front of you, tiptoeing down, hoping the wood underfoot won’t creak. The boy next to you grabs your hand with his free one, pulling the two of you closer together than you were before. You stare at the hands and then at his face.

Sion leans to reach your ear to whisper, “I thought I heard something from upstairs.”

All you do is nod in response and continue carefully making your way down. Sion’s face stays close to yours, his hand continues to envelope your own.

You reach the entrance to the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs, turning on its lights. Sion takes his hand off yours, coughing awkwardly as he moves away and turns off his phone's flashlight. You head to the shelf in the furthest corner, getting on your toes in an attempt to reach the cookies right at the top. Sion approaches from behind leaning over you to reach the cookies easily. The gesture and the proximity make your fourteen-year-old heart flutter.

He takes a seat on the floor, placing the cookies down, just as you do the same with the cola you pulled out of the fridge. 

“I can’t imagine a Christmas without you. Or uh- you know. Without all of this,” he says quietly.

“Me neither,” you respond, just as quietly.

It’s Christmas day, you’re sitting on your kitchen floor with a boy, and you’re beginning to realise you may not just have a silly crush on him. You might just be in love. 

⋆⁺₊❅.─ 25th december 2024, 12:27pm

The kitchen has always been just out of earshot of the main living room area. The voices of both of your families fade into the background as the two of you walk in, the rapid beating of your heart becoming louder by the second and filling your ears. You start making the hot chocolate as he leans on the counter next to you, trying (and failing) to meet your eyes. 

“You’ve been avoiding me. Not just today, all year. Since new year’s.”

“I don’t really want to talk about new year’s.”

“Hm?” he hums with a questioning tone.

You stop stirring, finally meeting his eyes, “It was just- you know. A mistake. Drank a little too much. Won’t happen again.”

“We only had one beer each that night. I know your tolerance is higher than that. And I’d like it to happen again.”

There’s a pause. You process what he’s just said to you. Sion can tell by the look on your face that the cogs are turning in your head and a smirk begins to form on his face.

“Oh.” 

He nods, then after another pause you continue, “But you didn’t kiss back.”

“Because I was surprised! You’ve got to give a guy a second to figure out what’s going on before you assume the worst,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment while he smiles at your stunned expression, “I was surprised you liked me back.”

“You liked me?” “I might actually be in love with you.”

“Oh,” your voice now reduced to a whisper out of shock, “I might be in love with you too.”

Now your body turns to face him fully, just as his hand moves to your cheek. He leans down, his lips meeting yours as your hands go to his sides, grabbing his sweater. You’ve kissed people before but with Sion it’s different (especially when he kisses back). You pull apart for breath, “Ok now this is our first kiss, the new year's one doesn't count.” You laugh in response, “Deal.”

Sion engulfs you in a hug, the warm kind he’s always given you. His arms wrap around your waist as yours encircle his neck. As you hug the two of you confess how much you missed each other all year. When the hug breaks he kisses you again and you can feel the smile on his lips.

All of a sudden your attention is brought back to your previous task, realising the hot chocolate must be getting cold. Sion watches you with adoration in his eyes as you turn back to the counter to finish stirring. The adoration has always been there, you’re just beginning to notice it.

It’s christmas day, you’re standing in your kitchen with the boy you love, and you finally know he loves you just the same. You’re excited for new years day, and every christmas after, because each one will be spent with him.

© 2024 FAE-RENJUN. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or steal any of my posts. networks: @kstrucknet

[xdantesinfernox]

COME OVER HERE AND KISS ME ON MY HOT MOUTH,,, IM FEELING ROMANTICAL /REF

Happy holidays everyone!!! Have a festive Screamer ❤️💚✨

[livi008]

(mood board by me)

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: shy Bucky Barnes x oblivious reader

Category: fluff; holiday season romance

Word count: around 9k

Warnings: none

a/n: merry Christmas my darlings! And happy Hanukkah (only to my non-zionist baddies). So, this is my first published fan fiction so any constructive criticism or tips would be greatly appreciated. Also, just so I can be completely transparent: this is an original thought. I’ve been working on this for months and I was waiting to release it on Christmas. Any similarities to any other creations in this app is completely unintentional by my part and if needed, I will credit the writers below. Anyways, that’s all! I home you enjoy! Happy reading cuties! 🎄❄️🥂🤍

Edit: so sorry, I forgot to tag where I got the divider, here it is

(here is a cozy song if u like reading with music ;) )

The compound’s kitchen smelled like Christmas — warm spices, melted chocolate, and the unmistakable aroma of cookies fresh out of the oven. You slid a tray onto the counter, the cookies golden and steaming as you transferred them carefully to a themed bowl.

Behind you, a heavy tread signaled a well known soldier entering the kitchen.. You turned around just in time to catch Bucky Barnes reaching for one of the still-hot cookies..

‘’Hey! No, James!” you scolded, swatting his hand away with a dish towel. “First of all, they’re still hot— you’ll burn yourself. And second, these are for the. *whole* team. You need to learn to share.”

Bucky froze mid-reach, your words sending an unexpected flutter through his chest. James. No one called him that anymore— not since the forties. But coming from you, it didn’t feel odd. It felt…. Grounding. Comforting.

“Fine,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re the boss, doll.”

Satisfied, you turned back to the counter, preparing the next batch, missing the way Bucky lingered, his gaze softening as he watched you work. When the cookies had cooled enough, you grabbed one and handed it to him.

“Here, now you can try one. Carefully.”

Bucky took a cautious bite, his brows lifting in surprise. “These are… really good..” He chewed thoughtfully before adding, ‘Haven’t had these since… well, before.”

You grinned, leaning against the counter. “Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? I’ll start making you more baked goods.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh, the corners of his ears turning a slight shade of pink. “That just sounds like you’re trying to make me fat..”

“And you can afford it,” you quipped back, your teasing grin making his heart skip a beat.

The moment lingers, Bucky still caught in the warmth of your smile, but the spell is broken by Sam’s voice booms from the hallway. “Hey! If those cookies are gone by the time they get here, Im coming for both of you!”

You laugh, grabbing the bowl and heading for the door. “Cmon, James, let’s share these before Sam stages a full-on revolt.”

Bucky trails behind you, his steps slow, his gaze lingering on the back of your head as the scent of cookies— and you— fills the air. But as the two of you reach the doorway, you both move to pass through at the same time—and collide.

‘’Oh!” You exclaim, nearly loosing your balance, but Bucky steadies you with a hand at your waist. The contact sends heat rushing to his face, but before you can even process it, you glance up.

“Would you look at that,” you say with a grin, pointing upward. A sprig of mistletoe hangs above the doorway. Completely oblivious to Bucky’s internal spiral, you lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, James!” you chirp, the twinkle in your eyes as bright as the lights strung through the compound. Then, just like that, you slip past him, disappearing down the hall.

Bucky remains frozen in place, the spot where your lips touched burning like a brand.

His thoughts where a whirlwind as he stood rooted at the doorway. The warmth of your kiss lingered on his cheek, making him feel more alive than he had in decades. His hand instinctively brushed the spot, as if to capture the fleeting moment forever.

But before he could linger too long, a familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Yo, Barnes! You coming, or are you just gonna stand there looking like you’ve seen a ghost?” Sam’s teasing tone echoed from the common area.

Bucky blinked, forcing himself to move. Yeah, yeah.. Im coming.” He muttered, his voice low, though the tint creeping up his neck betrayed him..

As he finally follows you into the living room, the chaos of decorating being at full swing brins him back to reality.

The common room had been transformed into a holiday haven. Twinkling lights draped over every surface, garlands framed the window, and the faint sound of Sam’s playlist of outdated Christmas hits played on repeat from a speaker in the corner. The team scattered around, each person taking charge of a different task.

Thor wrestled with stringing lights onto the tree— though ‘’wrestled” was a good understatement, as the god of thunder had somehow managed to tangle himself in the wires. Steve was carefully hanging stockings on the fireplace mantel with Tony, while Sam was perched on a stepladder, complaining about having to adjust the same strand of lights for the third time.

You arrived with the cookies just as Natasha was helping Clint untangle a knot of ribbon. The smell of fresh baked goods immediately caught everyone’s attention.

“Alright troops! Cookie break!” you announced, setting the bowl of cookies on the coffee table.

The team descended like vultures, but not before you swatted Sam’s hand with a mock-stern glare. “Save some for the others, Wilson.”

Across the room, Bucky hovered near the Christmas tree, his hands busy themselves with a silver ornament he’d already adjusted three times. But his focus wasn’t on the decorations— it was on you. From the way you moved to the sound of your laugh, you were a force of warmth and light in the room, and Bucky found himself completely captivated.

‘’Y’know, Barnes,” Natasha’s voice slid into his thoughts like a needle popping a bubble, low enough for only him to hear, “if you keep staring like that, your face will be brighter than the tree.”

Bucky’s hand faltered, the silver ornament he was holding almost slipping from his fingers. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered, his voice gruff, though the flush that creeping up his neck told a different story.

Natasha smirked, her gaze flicking from him to you. “Right. And the way your cheeks match that Santa hat dangling ogg Thor’s hammer is just a coincidence.”

Bucky sighed, letting his forehead rest briefly against the tree’s branches. Natasha’s teasing felt relentless, but she wasn’t wrong. The mistletoe incident earlier had been a turning point, and now, every time he looked at you, his heart ached in the best way possible.

“Just tell her,” Natasha added, her tone softening. “You’re gonna regret it if you don’t”

After the cookie break, everyone does back to decorating. You move closer to Bucky, handing him a box of ornaments to hang on the tree.

“Here, James. Since you’re already an expert ornament fixer.” you tease, your grin making his ears turn pink again.

“I wasn’t… fixing it,” he mumbles, but you laugh lightly brushing past him to hang a strand of tinsel.

Natasha watches the two of you with a knowing smile, nudging Sam. “Fifty bucks says he makes a move before the night’s over.”

“Not a chance,” Sam replies, crossing his arms.

The teams chatter fills the room, but Bucky is barely aware of it. His focus remains on you, your laugh, the way you effortlessly light up the room.

As the last ornaments were hung and tinsel draped, the team began to scatter— Thor and Clint collapsing onto the couch with mugs of cocoa, Sam and Tony arguing over who had the worse Santa suit from last year, and Natasha… well, Natasha didn’t scatter. She stayed rooted across the room, shooting Bucky knowing glances that only made hi, feel more cornered.

Bucky sighed, his fingers brushing the edge of a stray ornament. His mind was made up before he even realized it.. Nat was right. If he didn’t say something tonight, he knew he’d regret it. His gaze landed on you again, now humming quietly as you gathered your things in the kitchen.

He steeled himself. Now or never.

You’re mindlessly humming to one of Sam’s catchy Christmas classics when you feel hands gently settle around your waist. Before you can react, you’re spun around, and the world blurs for just a moment before James Buchanan Barnes is standing in front of you, his gaze intense yet tender.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s sweet and warm, sending a thrill through your chest.

When he pulls away, his smirk is soft yet mischievous. “Merry Christmas, doll,’’ he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betray just how much this moment means to him. Then, without waiting for a response, he strides down the hall, leaving you breathless and flushed, completely dazed by surprise and excitement from what the new year might bring for yours and Bucky’s relationship.

Bonus: as Bucky walks off, he takes confident steps and doesn’t look back. But as soon as he turns a corner, his confident steps falter, as he stops, resting a hand against the wall as he takes deep breaths. HIs heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest. He runs a hand through his hair, his lips still tingling from yours, when a familiar voice snaps him out of his daze.

“Told you they would get together.” Natasha drawls, step out of the shadows with a victorious smirk.

Sam groans, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill and slapping it into her hand. “Man, couldn’t keep it in your pants till the party ended, could you Bucky?”

Steve chuckles softly, shaking his head as he watches his best friend fumble with his flustered grin. “It was bound to happen eventually,” he says, his tone laced with affection.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Christmas Eve // Quinn Hughes

be my date this Christmas Eve, be my holiday, my dream

summary: a heavy snowfall changes Quinn’s Christmas plans

warnings: light fluff, kissing and cuddling. Sorry it’s short! I just wanted to post something Christmas themed 🎄

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Quinn paced back and forth in front of the window, his phone glued to his ear. It was Christmas Eve and we were supposed to be heading to Michigan to spend the holidays with his family, but our plans might be changing despite our best efforts. Vancouver was covered in a heavy blanket of snow, not a single car was seen on the road all morning. Quinn gets off the phone, a small exhale left his lips as he walked towards me. I was buried under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate wrapped around my hands, doing anything I could to stay warm. Christmas music filled the room as I watched Quinn, he was stuck in his own head as he sat down beside me. My eyes never left his face, he bit his lower lip, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s deeply thinking.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Nothing is flying out of the airport right now, so it looks like we might be spending Christmas here.” His voice was low, almost like velvet. His face was hard to read, he looked upset our plans changed but also keen on us just staying in Vancouver. His hand traced small circles around my ankle as he locked his eyes with mine. They were the perfect shade of green, always adapting to whatever emotions he was feeling.

“I’m really sorry.” My heart sunk, I was looking forward to seeing his family again too. His parents welcomed me with open arms and his brothers treated me like I was the sister they never had. All I knew was that I had to help fill the void Quinn was going to feel not being with his family, and those were hard shoes to fill.

“It’s okay.” His words mumbled as he continued to chew on his lower lip. “I’m actually okay with us being here instead.”

Confused by his reaction, my head titled to the side, “what do you mean?”

“Every time we celebrate a holiday, or a birthday, I rarely get to have you alone.” His voice somehow lowered more, it was husky this time, making my stomach flutter. He guided my face towards him, pulling me into a delicate kiss. His lower lip, arguably my favourite part of his body above his belt envelopes my mouth so effortlessly.

We pulled apart briefly, my lips trailing his jaw this time, “that’s the whole point of the holidays though.”

“Yeah but…I’m tired of sharing you with everyone else.” he replied, brushing my hair out of my face so he could admire what was in front of him, “I love that my family adores you but I want you all to myself this Christmas Eve.”

He was right, every time we’ve gone out to celebrate something, we’re surrounded by our friends, his teammates or family. We should be so lucky that we have so many people that love us, but anytime we tried to have a moment alone we were interrupted by someone. Most birthday parties ended up with our friends sleeping on our couches, even our own bed and leaving us somehow separated. This might actually be our first time celebrating something together, with no interruptions.

“This is so tedious.”

I looked over at Quinn who was squinting as he iced some sugar cookies. He looked so adorable in the Christmas sweater I forced him to wear, I was gonna save it for tomorrow but now seemed like the perfect time to wear it. He looked like he belonged in a Christmas hallmark movie.

“You’re doing great.” I commented coming up behind him. He turned around and put some icing on my nose, making me grab some to return the favour.

“Let me taste test.” His tongue ran along my nose as he got rid of the icing. I went to do the same but he ran away from me.

“Quinn, get back here!” I yelled as he made his way into our room. He stopped, laughing like a little child until I pushed him onto the bed. I had him right where I wanted as I crawled over him, licking all the icing off his face. He squirmed but my thighs kept him locked into place. We fell into a fit of laughter, completely enjoying each others company.

“I made a call when you were in the shower.” Quinn said, breaking the silence as he propped himself up with his arm.

“About what?”

“I got the owner to let us have the rink so we can go skate before dinner…maybe pass the puck a little bit.”

“You’re so cute.” I mused, “always thinking about hockey.”

He licked his lips before his bright eyes looked into mine, “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise but I got you new skates I was hoping we could’ve used in Michigan. I guess our arena will have to do.”

A few hours later we were in the Canucks dressing room getting our skates on. Quinn rolled his eyes at me when I said I wanted to sit in JT Millers booth to put my skates on instead of his. He knew he was my favourite player besides him so he let it go. He placed my foot on his lap and he knelt down in front of me and tied my skates up. My stomach flipped just watching him so effortlessly tie them for me. As he finished he sat up and pressed his mouth gently to mine for the hundredth time today, but I didn’t care. My eyes fluttered shut, making me want to savour this moment with him.

“I’m gonna tell JT we kissed in his booth.” I snicked as we walked down the tunnel towards the ice.

Quinn just shakes his head as he opened the bench door for us, “you’re such a brat.”

He grabbed my hand and led me onto the ice. I admired the empty arena, it felt like a completely different place compared to how it was during a game. You could’ve heard a pin drop in here right now. We did a few laps around so I could break in my new skates. I was a pretty decent skater but I felt like Bambi compared to him.

“One on one?”

I just nod as Quinn passed me a stick. It was a little long for me but I was determined to make it work. He dumped a bucket of pucks onto the ice as he began to fish one out with his stick. I watched him, bewildered. The way he controlled the puck was so effortless. He looked up, cheeks flushed as he realized what I was doing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I replied bashfully, “am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend’s stick work?”

“This is doing it for you?” He smirked, raising his eyebrow. “I do this every night.”

“I know.” I breathed. I’d be lying if I didn’t say watching him play was my biggest turn on, because it definitely was. “I guess I never get tired of it.”

Quinn threw a sarcastic remark at me, I rolled my eyes before he pulled me into a deep kiss. My stick dropped to the ice as my lips parted for his tongue that was begging to enter my mouth. Despite it being cold in here, my cheeks were completely flushed.

“I wanna take you home.”

“Soon.” I replied, grabbing my stick and slowly guiding a puck into the net. We played one on one for a good hour before we decided to go home. Quinn will never admit I scored more on him than he did on me, so I guess that will be our little secret…for now.

Our dinner wasn’t perfect. We had hardly any groceries considering we weren’t supposed to be in town. We found spring rolls in the freezer, made a small charcuterie board with cheese, crackers and grapes we had in the fridge. We polished off a bottle of red wine as we watched a few Christmas movies, both agreeing Christmas Vacation was our favourite. Our hands slowly wandered more and more during the movie as the wine started to hit us. Quinn swooped me up into his arms and brought me into our room, his lips never leaving mine. All the lights were out in our room, all you could see was the snow falling from the sky, Christmas lights in the distance, along with the pale glow of our tree from the living room. It illuminated Quinns face, making his eyes sparkle more that normal.

His movements were so slow, nothing could be heard but our laboured breaths. Quinns face was buried in my neck, his stubble that he’s been growing out more grazed against my skin. It felt rough, but I was so lost in his touch that it didn’t even phase me.

“It’s midnight.” Quinn whispered in my ear, his lips pressing into my neck, “Merry Christmas baby.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t spend it with your family.”

“It’s okay.” He replies, kissing my forehead before peering into my eyes, “spending today with you was the greatest gift of all.”

Quinn envelopes me into a hug as we began to fall into a blissful sleep, unaware of how much snow would fall during the night. Maybe sugar plums would dance in our heads but all I knew was my heart was full. I didn’t need a bunch of gifts under the tree, I had everything I needed, and he was wrapped up in my arms… the perfect present.

[marginofthought]

Rearrange ~ Wincest smut

It's still Christmas were I'm from so here is another present - aka I can't draw but I like to write for this post

___

“Dean?” Sam asked with a frown, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. “What are you doing?” Dean only made a non-committal noise while he left the highway, taking the exit ramp and merging onto the next street.

Sam dismissed his brother and focused back on the research he was doing. Maybe Dean noticed something with the car he wanted to check out or maybe Dean needed to take a leak, this wasn’t the first time Dean had randomly pulled off their current route for any number of reasons. 

When Sam looked up again a moment later they weren’t headed into town like Sam had expected but were rather turning onto an even more remote road. Sam didn’t even want to call it a street, it was in such poor condition. 

“Dean, there was a sign for a gas station and a McDonald’s if you needed a piss.” Sam said and looked over to the driver’s side. 

“Not what I need,” Dean grumbled and Sam was surprised by the mixture of concentration and distraction on Dean’s face.

Sam folded the newspaper in his lap and laid it onto the dashboard before turning towards his brother. “Everything alright, Dean?” 

Dean shot Sam a quick look at the concern in the younger brother’s tone but turned away just as fast, grunting once again.

A few seconds later Dean pulled the car onto the basically non-existent shoulder near a copse of trees. He turned the car off and turned to Sam just as he was opening his mouth again. “Out!” Dean ordered, though not unkindly. 

“What?” Sam asked, confusion and annoyance warring in his tone. 

“Out, Sammy!”

Sam shook his head in disbelief but followed his brother’s orders, getting out of the creaking door and stepping into the warm sunshine. The main road was still visible and Sam could hear cars whooshing by. 

The driver’s side door opened with another creak and Dean’s heavy boots hit the dirty ground before the door fell closed again. 

“Come here,” Dean gruffly said and patted the hood of the car. 

Sam wanted to argue but knew that it wouldn’t do much good and sighed, rolling his eyes and walking towards where Dean was standing. “Okay, what’s going on?” Sam asked once again when he was standing just in front of Dean. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me? All nerdy and hot in my car.” Dean asked back gruffly, pulling Sam into a quick kiss before turning him around and using Sam’s temporary confusion to pin him to the hood. 

Sam grunted in surprise, barely able to support himself with his arms, landing on his elbows as he was bent over the warm metal. 

Dean stepped up behind him, interrupting Sam’s “What?” when he ground his hips against Sam’s ass, making his intentions clear. 

“You know, Dean, there was a sign for a motel too.” Sam chuckled, his laugh quickly turning into a moan. 

“Yeah but I want you right here, wanna fuck my baby on my baby.” Dean breathed against Sam’s ear, nipping at the sensitive flesh afterwards. 

It wasn’t the first time Dean had used some variation of that phrase but it always managed to make Sam flush like a teenage girl, the blush spreading down to his chest. 

“Dean,” Sam whined as he remembered where they were and where they had been on their way to. “Two hours and we can do this on a bed with some pre-”

“No!” Dean growled into his ear. “Now. On my baby.” 

Greedy hands wormed under Sam’s body, struggling to open his belt only by feel. Sam lifted his hips a bit until Dean finally managed to open the belt and loosen it, he popped the button open before he forced Sam’s jeans over his hips without even pulling the fly down. 

Sam grunted a little when he was tucked backwards before the material slid down the rest of his legs, his boxer shorts immediately following. 

Dean was obviously in a mood and Sam had learned early on in their relationship that it was best to let his brother get it out of his system with minimal complaints. 

His brother’s hands roamed across his naked skin before he started kneading Sam’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart and exposing Sam’s most intimate parts to the summer sun. 

A dry finger rubbed over the furled skin with purpose and Sam was barely able to choke out a warning before Dean pushed it inside him. 

“You’re not fucking me dry!” Sam growled out, trying to push his hips forward and out of Dean’s grip. 

Dean grumbled before a fat glob of spit landed on Sam’s exposed hole, running down the crack before Dean scoped it up and shoved it inside along a second finger. 

“Fuck,” Sam gasped out, the friction rough and he could feel his body heating up. It wasn’t quite painful yet but Sam knew that that could still change.

Dean was big, not just proportional for a 6’1” guy but actually big, call it Winchester genes or a blessing or whatever but Dean was huge. His soft cock alone was probably what guys would dream of having when hard and then add on that his brother, much like himself, was a grower, meant that Dean was much larger than average. 

It had taken them a few tries to even stretch Sam wide enough for Dean the first time and he was still struggling sometimes, especially in the oral department. 

That wasn’t to say that Sam disliked it, oh no, quite the opposite. Sam loved the feeling of being stuffed to the brim, stretched out by Dean’s cock, filling him up like it was made for him. 

Sam just usually preferred it with a healthy amount of lube and stretching beforehand. Once they had done it with just spit and Sam had been uncomfortable for days afterwards, and not in the fun - i can still feel you - kind of way.

Dean’s two thick fingers were pushing deeper into Sam and soon another wad of spit was added, slicking the way but not nearly enough. Sam tried his best to relax into it and move with Dean instead of against him but it didn’t seem to help all that much.

“Dean,” Sam groaned again. “Get the lube from the glove box.” 

Sam had started to keep a bottle there after the previous incident, not willing to risk it again. Dean however ignored his request, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of Sam’s tight hole, instead even pushing a third finger against it. 

A hand shot out and grasped Dean’s wrist, stopping him. “Get the lube, I mean it, Dean.”

“Sammy, c’mon.” Dean tried to plead.

“No, it’s like five feet and you know what happened last time.”

“That I do,” Dean said smugly but he finally pulled his fingers free. Whenever the incident was mentioned Dean had that stupid smug grin on his face, self satisfied with his dick and the ability to make Sam go wild from it, which Sam couldn’t even really deny. 

Dean’s weight lifted off of him and Sam could hear the creak of the door before Dean came back. A second later the fingers were back too, this time coated in cold slick lube and Sam breathed out a sigh of relief.

The third finger was quickly added and while Sam usually petitioned for a fourth, Dean apparently really was impatient after Sam had made him stop once already. 

There was the quiet sound of a zipper and fabric before Dean pulled his fingers back out and the blunt head of Dean’s dick was pressed against the wrinkled hole.

Sam braced himself, taking a deep breath and tried to relax when Dean pushed inside. The head of his dick squeezed past the first muscle and Sam’s breath was punched out of him when Dean continued to push forward.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned again, the pressure overwhelming and he couldn’t keep his noises in. He knew he was whimpering and whining, groaning and moaning while Dean buried himself balls deep in his little brother’s ass. 

“Feel so good, Sammy. So goddamn fucking tight, squeezing me so tight.” Dean told him. 

Dean gripped Sam’s hips, pinning him to the Impala before pulling back out and pushing back inside. He quickly established a rhythm, hips pumping forward and backward.

The pressure was perfect, Sam feeling so incredibly full but the friction was still quite uncomfortable where he wasn’t quite stretched enough. “More lube,” Sam grumbled after Dean pulled out once again. 

There was some shuffling and shaking from the side and a slick noise before another glob of lube landed on Sam along with a small noise from Dean.

“What?” Sam asked and tried to turn around to look at his brother.

“Erhm, the lube is empty.” Dean said and Sam could imagine the look on his face but before he could reply or react in any way, Dean shoved back inside.

The slide was slicker that was for sure but Sam would surely feel it tomorrow, especially after Dean established a rhythm again. 

Dean’s hips were continuously moving, his dick pushing deep into Sam, filling him up and Sam swore he should be able to see a bulge in his stomach. (Once when they had fucked in the morning and Sam’s stomach was at it flattest, it had actually happened and Sam could swear that Dean had never been more pleased or cum harder than that morning) 

Every thrust made a pass by Sam’s prostate and his own dick was bouncing and twitching under him, almost ready to burst just from Dean fucking him like this. Pushing all the way inside again, Dean stilled for a moment before he rocked his hips just a little, making Sam mewl just a little. 

“Love your little noises,” Dean said breathlessly, continuing to rock into Sam. 

Sam couldn’t concentrate, split open and flared wide by his big brother and he absentmindedly worried that Dean would leave a gape when he was done. “Nngh,” he managed intelligently. 

His brother chuckled behind him again. “See, that’s what I mean.”

Sam tried to make his mouth work but was interrupted once again by Dean pulling out before roughly thrusting back in. It made Sam moan loudly, a hint of discomfort in the sound as Sam was split open again and again on Dean’s thick cock and the little lube they had was almost dried up.

Dean’s hands shifted, pulling Sam up against his chest. In the back of his mind Sam marveled at the easy strength with which his brother could manhandle all of Sam. His brain however was still in shambles and it was difficult for Sam to make more than unintelligible noises.

The angle change brought tears to Sam’s eyes as Dean was able to fill him even better, his rim pulled wide with every thrust. Sam tried to brace himself on Dean’s arms but his hand slipped on the sweat slick skin. 

“Fuck!” Sam cried out as his orgasm bowled him over. His body seized up, hips rocking back into Dean as he came without a hand on his dick. Every one of Dean’s thrust made another spurt of cum erupt from his cock, white streaks tarnishing the black metal of Baby’s hood. Sam keened loudly and his vision went fuzzy, when Dean doubled down, his brother’s name falling from his lips. 

“Take it, baby, c’mon.” Dean’s voice was rough, his breath fanning hot across Sam’s neck. A few thrusts later and Dean pulled him even tighter while his hips stuttered and he filled his little brother up inside. 

Sam collapsed back onto the hood once Dean released his grip, pulling out too quickly at the motion and making Sam hiss at the sore feeling. 

“You okay?” Dean asked with a pat to Sam’s side. 

Sam grunted before extricating a hand from under him and putting up a thumb. “Yeah,” he slurred.

..

It had taken Sam a few minutes to peel himself off the hood, pulling up his pants with shaking legs and trapping Dean’s cum in his boxers.

Sam looked like a mess when he saw himself in the window reflection. His hair was tousled even though he couldn’t remember either of them getting a hand in it, he was flushed and sweaty both from the activity and the summer sun. Sam’s cheeks burned even brighter when he noticed the visible stains of cum on his shirt and he quickly whipped it off, reaching into the back for another t-shirt. 

Sitting down was equally as uncomfortable as his wet boxers met his sore ass. Sam was a little tempted to both change his boxers and also reach inside his current ones to feel if Dean finally succeeded in leaving him gaping.

Dean whistled nonchalantly as he got into the car after wiping down the hood and sank into the driver’s seat with a pleased expression. 

Sam was still struggling with a decision and words when Dean turned the car back on, reversing up to the main street before turning onto it. 

“Dean?” Sam asked when Dean had ignored the highway and drove into town this time. 

Dean ignored him again until he pulled into the town's diner and Sam’s stomach churned at just the smell of grease that hit him when Dean’s door opened. “C’mon, I’m hungry now.” Dean grinned cheekily and got out, striding towards the front door. 

Sam shook his head bemusedly, his brother ever the hedonist. Sam stiffly got out of the car, hoping no one nearby was looking at him before opening the trunk and pulling out his duffel bag. 

Dean was already sitting at a booth when Sam walked past him and gestured at the restroom near the back, waiting for Dean to nod before he left for it. 

A few minutes later Sam came back out in a fresh pair of boxers, though he kept the jeans the same so as not to attract too much attention. 

He slid into the booth opposite from Dean and carefully sat down, his mouth twisting slightly at the sore feeling.

“You’re replacing the lube at the next store,” Sam hissed at his brother, trying to look stern.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t act like you don’t love it.” Dean grinned back and knew he was right when Sam’s face turned even more sour but didn’t say anything else. 

..

Dean had chatted shortly with the elderly waitress and was now biting heartily into his greasy mess of a double cheeseburger, of course with extra onions. The sight and smell were enough for Sam’s stomach to turn and he tried to focus on his own plate. 

The chicken wrap he had ordered was a little dry but he preferred it to the grease dripping down Dean’s fingers. Sam bit into one of his fries and even though it was kind of gross, found his eyes wandering back to his brother. 

There was such a happy and satisfied smile on Dean’s face that Sam temporarily forgot his disgust. It was rare to see Dean this carefree and Sam would do most things to ensure Dean could look like that more often. 

That was until he shifted in his seat and was reminded of just how sore his ass was and then he had to wonder how Dean could eat so nonchalantly, talk with strangers and jam out to music when he had just rearranged Sam’s guts a few minutes ago. 

Sam shook his head, feeling like every person in sight could read exactly what they had done not too long ago but well, he would do it again, wouldn’t he…

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Tags: teenchesters, underage, wound licking kink Words: 804

"Sammy?" Dean says, releasing his hand finally.

Sam's used to his name meaning a million and one things coming from Dean's mouth.

Sammy, you ok? I've got you Sammy. Sammy. My little brother.

His head is spinning too far to be able to tell what Dean's asking him, but he nods anyways, fearing what will come out of his mouth if he tries to speak, and relying on Dean to keep directing him forward. He'd follow Dean anywhere. Even if anywhere means he's here pressed against a counter with his brother's spit still cooling on his dropped hand.

Maybe honestly especially here.

Dean, taking Sam's nod to mean an answer to his question, brushes his knee forward tentatively. Sam's hips jut forward instinctively at the contact before he can stop them, and he knows his brother can tell he's fully hard.

He eyes Dean nervously, checking his expression for any traces of disgust, but he just sees his brother's eyes as wide and nervous as his before he manages to shutter it away behind his familiar smirk.

"It's ok Sammy, I've got you" he says, pressing forward harder this time.

A moan makes it's way halfway out of Sam's mouth before he clamps it shut in horror and presses his face forward into Dean's shoulder to hide. Dean chuckles at that with his confident older brother laugh, the one he lets out whenever he finds something to tease Sam endlessly over. He raises his knee just right for Sam to rut against and presses his lips just against Sam's ear causing him to shiver.

"Got you little brother," he says lowering his leg just a little before pressing upwards once more. "Come on Sammy."

Sam can hear the dare and the never gonna let anything happen to you all rolled up in one. He bites into Dean's shirt so that no more sounds escape, little brother brattiness unwilling to let Dean win it all even if he's already given in.

Dean keeps his leg steady as Sam ruts forward finally, his rhythm set by Dean's hand on his hip. He drags his lips down Sam's neck. Not quite kissing, just pressing, as Sam finally gets the pace right. Just as he gets down to the junction of where his collarbone is he nips hard enough it'll draw a mark later, causing Sam's rhythm to falter and drop Dean's shirt from his teeth.

Speeding up his pace he can feel himself getting closer to the edge and he lets out the barest whine as he stays just on this side of coming.

Sam feels Dean smirk against his skin and he considers scowling for half a second before abandoning the prospect, devoting all his attention back to pressing into his brother over and over. Dean licks across the spot he'd nipped in punishment as if he can read Sam's mind anyways.

He probably can. After all Sam's not even sure how they got to this point or what Dean read in him that let him think Sam wanted this when Sam didn't even know he did.

"Come on, give it up," he says pressing kisses up Sam's neck before pulling back forcing Sam to look at him.

"Like having your big brother take care of you? Like me stitching you up Sam?"

Sam huffs out a whine as Dean pulls him forward faster, his words making him feel overheated and tight in his skin.

"Want me to put you together the same way every time Sam? Come on Sammy, let me take care of you, I got you Sammy."

His hips jut forward off rhythm twice more before he can feel himself spilling into his jeans. Lost in his head he resurfaces to the feel of Dean's hands stroking over his hair and the tang of metal on his tongue.

Opening his mouth he releases Dean from where he'd apparently bit him on the neck, leaving only indents more than anything, but a small couple of drops bead up and start to fall where he'd broken the skin. Unable to look away Sam readily follows the compulsion to lean forward and taste them.

It tastes like, blood. Nothing special to it, but the thought of Dean consuming his earlier and him now doing the same makes him flush hot.

He hears Dean chuckle and finally looks back up at his brother who stopped stroking his hair at some point.

"You know at this point I'm starting to think Dad might've been wrong about vampires being extinct."

Scowling Sam shifts to push Dean back and remind him that he hasn't been funny since Sam was in middle school, but stops when Dean hisses.

In confusion Sam looks down and sees Dean's jeans, the front raised with as much give as the denim allows.

Dean is hard.

Dean is hard.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | x

[cuntlips42]

IS THAT LAW AND ORDER SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT I SEE

OH YOU KNOW IT IS

[calebsrottingcorpse]

“What do you think they DID to you?”

[beloxiia]

Day 11 of caeltobberrrr ⁉️⁉️His birthday clothes yaaaayyy

still going strong💪💪💪 might go insane but its ok bc its cael