#i promised to make these a while a go and I know it took me long

[writingwithciara]

blinking lights -quinn hughes-

summary: with planes grounded for the holiday due the snow storm, y/n & quinn are forced to spend christmas together. but oddly enough, neither of them seem to mind much

word count: 3.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

note: i LOVE writing roommate quinn honestly

"i'm sorry mom. i won't be able to make it home this year. all flights out of vancouver are cancelled." y/n looked at the website opened on her laptop. her mom was sighing on the other end of the line. "i know. i'm sorry. but i should be able to visit in the new year. i promise."

"it's okay honey. i'm just glad that you'll be safe." her mom sighed again. "are your roommates stranded too?"

"i'm not sure. quinn left earlier to catch a flight so it's a possibility."

"well for you sake, i hope you're not alone for the holidays."

"i hope so too, mom." y/n looked up when the door opened. "gotta go, mom. quinn's home."

"okay sweetie. i'll call you tomorrow."

"alright. sounds good. love you."

as y/n hung up, quinn sat next to her on the couch.

"no luck?"

"unfortunately." y/n sighed and closed her laptop. "i'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"yeah. it kinda sucks. it's the first christmas i won't be able to see my family."

"at least neither of us will be alone this year."

"fair point." quinn chuckled and turned on the tv. "what should we watch?"

"frosty the snowman. always makes me feel better."

"got it." quinn smiled and put the movie on. he glanced around the bare apartment. "since we'll both be here for christmas, why don't we decorate? we can also combine traditions and do them together."

"i guess it beats sitting in an empty apartment. we definitely need some christmas spirit in this place."

"strongly agree. we'll go out tomorrow to get some decorations and we'll make a day of decorating and traditions."

"alright." y/n turned her attention to the tv screen. "my mom is supposed to call me tomorrow and she may want to talk to you."

"why?"

"i don't know. i suppose it's because i talk about you a lot but i think she's not sure if you're a guy or a girl. never really specified, honestly." she smiled. "i'm only telling you now so you're not completely shocked when she calls."

"alright." he smiled. "should i expect any questions?"

"she'll probably asked why i'm living with you and stuff like that."

"okay. i think i can handle it." quinn smiled.

after the movie, they both went to their rooms to get some sleep. decorating their apartment was going to be a huge task but if anyone could do it, it's y/n & quinn.

the next morning, y/n woke up early and sent her mom a text.

hey mom. i'm going shopping with quinn today and we're gonna be decorating our apartment after. i'll call you later, alright? love you <3

the second she heard quinn moving around in his room, she smiled and put on a pot of coffee. y/n watched him walk into the kitchen slowly. he smiled at her and sat at the counter.

"ready to shop for decorations today?"

"you bet." y/n smiled and poured them each a cup of coffee. she was excited to spend more time with quinn than she was used to. for the past 3 years, she had been harboring a crush on her roommate but the timing to tell him was never right. he was almost always in a relationship and his girlfriends barely liked her. they tolerated her, at best. and that was why she didn't spend a whole lot of time with him.

when the time came, quinn drove them to the seasonal store downtown. they went their separate ways once inside so they could get the decorations faster and have more time putting everything up.

while walking down the 'gifts for her' aisle, quinn saw something on the shelf that he knew y/n would love. it was so perfectly her that he just couldn't pass it up. he couldn't help the way his heart beat faster just thinking of what her reaction would be. he was so far gone for her but didn't want to risk pushing her away. especially not when she was finally spending time with him again.

it took 20 minutes to get everything and quinn insisted on paying for everything. he didn't y/n to see the gift he was getting her.

when they got home, quinn quickly hid the gift in his room, deciding he would wrap it tonight and give it to her in the morning. by the time he made it back to the living room, y/n had all the decorations sorted out in piles based on each room they were going to work on.

"so i figured you could get started in the kitchen while i worked out here. fair warning, i may need your help after."

"then why don't we work together?" he chuckled. "wouldn't that make more sense?"

"well i was going to play christmas music and when i dance, it looks weird."

"i highly doubt that." he smiled. "i've seen you dance before."

"that was always choreographed or because i was drunk. but i'm sober and don't want to make a fool of myself."

"y/n, i don't think you're capable of doing such a thing. just let me help you out here."

"alright, fine. but no judging me on my dance moves, hughes."

"i would never." quinn smiled and grabbed a box of lights. he grabbed the necessary items to get started while y/n put some music on the speaker. "wanna start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?"

"yes sir." y/n grabbed the other decorations and went across the room. halfway through the 3rd song, quinn was done hanging lights. he turned to look at y/n. she was dancing and in her own little world and quinn couldn't help but admire her more. how could she think she'd look like a fool? he thought she was beautiful and one day, he was going to get the courage to tell her.

when y/n turned around to grab something, she noticed quinn staring at her. it suddenly made her self conscious. "what?"

"nothing. i was just watching you dance."

"oh. i'm sorry about that. i told you i looked like a fool when i dance sober."

"quite the opposite actually. it was pretty cute." he chuckled and headed to the kitchen to start decorating, leaving y/n to stare with red cheeks.

it took her a minute to follow but when she finally got to the kitchen, quinn was already halfway through decorating.

"wow. you work fast." y/n smiled and instead of offering to help, she just leaned against the counter and watched him.

"yeah. sorry about that. i just couldn't help myself. i know you wanted to help with the decorating."

"no. it's perfectly fine. i like observing." y/n smirked and pulled out a mug. she poured herself some hot chocolate and sipped it while quinn went back to work. while he worked, y/n climbed onto the counter and smiled. this was the perfect way to admire quinn without feeling too guilty.

by the time quinn was finished, y/n had a mug of hot chocolate made for him. when she handed it to him, their fingers brushed against each other, causing y/n to draw her hand back quickly. the moment was interrupted when y/n's phone was ringing. she glanced down at the caller id.

"it's my mom." y/n showed him the phone and hit the 'accept' button. her moms face filled the screen in seconds. "hey mom."

"hey sweetie. how's your day?"

"it's good. quinn and i have been decorating for an hour. the place looks amazing. wanna see it?"

"in a minute. i want to meet your roommate."

y/n looked up and held the phone out to quinn. he took it and moved to stand beside y/n so they'd both be on the screen.

"hi. it's nice to finally meet you."

"oh my. you're certainly not what i was expecting."

"y/n informed me that you would say something like that." he smiled.

"how's it going, living with my baby?"

"mom!" y/n turned her face into quinn's shoulder while he chuckled.

"it's great. we're having the best time." he couldn't stop smiling. y/n's head fit perfectly in his shoulder. it was like a dream come true to have her this close. "she's amazing and probably my best friend."

"i'm glad she has such a good friend, honestly. i was so worried about her."

"you don't have to worry about her now. she's in good hands." he chuckled and threw his arm around y/n's shoulder. she grabbed the phone from him and smiled.

"alright. we gotta finish decorating. i'll talk to you later. bye mom. i love you."

"bye you guys. love you too."

after she hung up, y/n turned to quinn. "i'm your best friend, huh?"

"yeah, actually." he turned to stand across from her. "and it kind of hurt when you distanced yourself a little bit over the last 2 years. thought it was something i did. but i'm really glad you're coming back around."

"yeah i'm sorry about that. but none of your girlfriends liked me so i thought it'd be easier for your relationships if i wasn't around a whole lot."

"why didn't they like you?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged and turned to refill her mug. "but for the record, you're my best friend too."

"glad to hear it." quinn smiled slightly before walking out to the living room. although he had just called her his best friend, he didn't like hearing the word come from her mouth.

"quinn," y/n called out after him as she followed him into the living room. "i'm never going to distance myself from you again, okay? it was hurting me too."

"i'm sorry you felt like you had to give me space. and i'm really sorry they didn't like you. i don't understand why they didn't. you're one of the most likeable people i know."

"i try to be. and i don't understand why they didn't. but it's all in the past and i've learned from my mistakes." y/n sat and looked at him. "i can never stay away from you, quinn. it'll probably kill me."

"well i'm glad you're sticking around because it would probably kill me too, if i'm being honest." he turned to face her and smiled. "so, are there any traditions you have with your family that we can do tonight?"

"my mom and i usually bake cookies and eat some random take-out while watching home alone or how the grinch stole christmas. but we don't have to do that."

"why not? it sounds like fun."

"you'd really want to bake cookies with me?" y/n's eyes widened and she couldn't help the way her smile grew.

"of course. if it makes you happy, then i'll do anything."

y/n tried to ignore the way her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. never in her life had she met a guy so willing to do anything she had asked. it took everything in her not to launch herself across the couch and kiss him. she had to keep reminding herself that they were just friends.

while they baked cookies, both of them enjoyed the closeness of the other. side by side and covered in flour. usually, quinn hated messes but with y/n, he didn't care.

when they put the cookies in the oven, quinn wiped his hands on a towel.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you order dinner and pick out the movie. i'll be out in a bit." quinn didn't wait for her to reply. he just headed into the bathroom to shower. he spent half an hour in their and when he got out to get dressed, he realized that with his quick exit, he forgot to grab a new shirt from his room. the one he was wearing was covered in flour but luckily the rest of his clothes were fine. he put on his shorts and walked out into the hallway.

y/n looked up from the couch and watched quinn walk into his room. she only got a brief look at him but she was still speechless, regardless of having seen him without a shirt many times. she quickly turned her attention to the tv when he came walking back out to join her on the couch.

"food should be here in 10 minutes and i decided to go with home alone this year. is that okay?"

"it's perfect." quinn smiled and threw his arm around the back of the couch. the couch was big enough for at least 7 people but they were sitting on the same cushion. not close enough to be touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other. and every few seconds, quinn's thumb would rub against y/n's shoulder. but neither of them seemed to care.

when the food arrived, quinn went to grab it. and when he sat back down, he was closer to y/n than before. as they ate, y/n tried not to focus on the closeness of her best friend. it was hard but she was able to do it.

until he swung his arm back over the couch. he may as well have just placed it across her shoulder with the way his hand was resting there. as they watched the movie, quinn had moved his arm down to where it was actually resting across y/n. she looked at him with an innocent smile, which he adored, then went back to watching the rest of the movie.

when the movie was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched. "well i'm gonna get ready for bed."

"before you do, i was wondering if you wanted to take part in one of my family's traditions."

"it's not going to be something weird, is it?"

"no." he smiled. "unless you count wearing matching pajamas to bed on christmas eve."

"oh my gosh. my family does the same thing." y/n giggled. "wait, do we have matching pajamas?"

"yeah. i bought them a few days ago and was intending to give you a pair before i left for the holidays but i guess it was just meant to happen this way. be right back." quinn smiled and ran to his room. he returned seconds later with the pjs. "i hope you like them."

"they're a gift from you, quinn. i always like those." y/n smiled and headed into her room to change. quinn did the same and they managed to come out at the same time. all he could so was admire the way the clothes fit y/n perfectly. "how did you know my size?"

"because i know you." quinn chuckled, not wanting to admit it was because he stared at her so long that he memorized everything.

"you're the most perfect roommate, quinn." she smiled and threw her arms around him. "thank you."

he immediately hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"okay. well it's bed time now. i'll see you in the morning. good night quinn." y/n ran off the her room to try to get some sleep. but she knew that would be impossible, due to the overwhelming attraction she was feeling. if she didn't tell quinn soon, her emotions were going to shut her down.

as quinn sat at the desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about how excited y/n had been when she came out in the pjs. he had seen her happy many times but there was just something different this time.

he wrapped her gift neatly and set it down beside his bed. it was going to be the first thing he grabbed in the morning and he hoped she would love it as much as he loved her.

when the sun rose the next morning, quinn grabbed the box and headed out to the kitchen. y/n was normally a morning person so he was surprised that she hadn't woken up yet. he set the box on the counter and began making coffee. just as he was adding the finishing touches to y/n's coffee, she walked out of her room.

"good morning, quinn."

"good morning, y/n" he smiled and handed her the coffee. when she took a sip, her whole body instantly warmed up.

"this is the best coffee i've ever tasted. thank you." she grinned and continued to drink it as they both made their way onto the couch.

"so what else does your family do for christmas?"

"we stay in our pjs all day and spend time together. it's pretty boring but if you're around the right people, you can have the best time."

"well then that's exactly what we will do today." quinn smiled. "oh, before i forget, i have a present for you. close your eyes." he got off the couch and grabbed the gift from the kitchen before returning. "i hope you like it."

y/n unwrapped it carefully and opened the box. she pulled out a teddy bear with a canucks jersey on. and not just any jersey. a demko jersey. he even came with mini goalie pads and a helmet.

"i know how much you love thatcher so when i saw this, i just knew i had to get it for you."

"i love it so much. thank you, quinn." y/n set the bear down and hugged quinn. "i didn't get you anything. i'm sorry."

"it's alright. you being here is enough of a present for me." he rubbed her back and smiled. when y/n pulled back a little, her whole expression had changed. she was still happy but there were tears in her eyes.

"i appreciate that, quinn. but i feel like it's just not enough to make you truly happy."

"y/n, you're more than enough. you are the perfect gift."

y/n smiled and placed her lips on his. he was shocked at first and just as y/n was about to break the kiss, quinn pulled her closer and kissed her back. they stayed in that position for a few minutes before either one of them wanted to let go. when they separated, quinn rested his forehead against y/n's and smiled.

"if i had known that would be the outcome, i would've told you those words a long time ago." he smiled and held her face. "i've been wanting to say it for as long as i've known you but the timing was never right. you had steven and i had my own relationships. but i guess that's kind of a cowards excuse, huh?"

"nothing about you says 'coward', quinn." y/n smiled and closed her eyes. "you're the most kind, patient and sweetest man i've ever known in my life. these last 3 years of random relationships and hook-ups have all brought us to this exact moment. the moment where i can finally tell you that i've had the biggest crush on you for the past 3 years. i know it sounds insane but i like you a lot quinn. and maybe that's why your girlfriends were always jealous. they could probably tell how i felt and they didn't want me around to screw up their chances with you. that's why i had to keep a distance from you. i didn't want to have to make you choose between me and them because it would've been a losing battle for me."

"if that had ever happened, you would've won every single time. i never really cared about all those other girls. the only one that matters to me, is you. and i hope i conveyed that well enough in that kiss."

"seems pretty evident now." y/n smiled and finally opened her eyes. "guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"not at all." quinn smiled. "like you said, the last 3 years of random relationships have brought us to this moment right here. the most perfect moment." he placed a kiss on her lips again but didn't give her enough time to reciprocate. "i love you, y/n. everything about you is so perfect and it's been driving me crazy for 3 years."

"i can't believe that the planes being grounded are the reason we're here together."

"me either. but i wouldn't change it for anything."

"i wouldn't either." y/n leaned up to kiss him again. "for the record, i love you too."

[wonderjanga]

Fairy King

The day was normal if not, relatively boring. There had been the usual alien invasion, which the JL swiftly took out. Now they were in a meeting being hosted by Batman so they could go over everything that just happened as if they weren’t there. Now see when the meeting was over was when things got interesting.

JL: *all about to get up so they can go home*

Marvel: “Guys, before we go, can I announce something?”

JL: *groans because they just wanna go home and sleep after that entire ordeal, but still sit down*

Marvel: “I promise it’ll be quick. Look, I’m getting married-”

JL: *half their jaws drop while the other half is still processing what he said*

Marvel: “-And I want you guys all to come.”

JL: *the other half’s jaws drop too now*

Supes: “Wha…? Cap, what do you mean you’re getting married?”

Marvel: *passing out invites* “I mean I’m getting married. To the Fairy Queen. As a result of a treaty to get her to stop waging war on the gnomes.”

JL: *all stare*

Marvel: “Oh, don’t worry guys. Fairy lifespans are only about five years. She’s already a little more than halfway though.”

Flash: “Is that a good thing…?”

Marvel: “For me it is. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely terrible that she’s gonna die, but I don’t really wanna be married to anyone so…”

*silence*

Marvel: “Anyways! I would really love if you guys came.”

They did. After all, they did not want to miss this. Some of the guys even got to go into the dressing room and talk to Marvel.

Marvel: *doing his tie in the mirror, trying to remember how Tawny taught him*

Aquaman: “So… are you guys gonna have any kids?”

Marvel: “No? Why?”

Aquaman: “Well, you know, royal marriages are normally completed after consummation.”

Marvel: *slowly looks over to him with a horrified expression before the expression disappears* “Wait a minute. Fairies make kids by combining magic! Geez… you had me worried for a sec.”

Flash: “So I guess we’ll be seeing another mini Cap running around then.”

Marvel: “What do you mean by another?”

Flash: “Mary is basically a mini you if you were a girl. And Junior? He uh… looks like you too. Kinda. But I’m mostly talking about Mary.”

Marvel: “Oh. I guess so then. We’ll have another mini me. Yay.”

Aquaman: “Will they go into heroics too?”

Marvel: *pauses fiddling with his tie* “Now that I think about it, I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what my future wife thinks.”

It was all in all a beautiful wedding. Junior was Cap’s best man. Mary was a flower girl. Flash got to stuff his face with human and fairy food. Aquaman talked politics with some of the fairy politicians. Batman talked about security and defense with some retired warrior fairies. It was nice.

A month later…

Marvel: “Hey guys! Wanna meet my baby?” *has a baby strapped to his chest*

GL: “Whaaaaaaat…?” *rapidly looking between the baby and Marvel before coming to a realization* “Oh is this your fairy baby?”

Marvel: “Yup!”

GL: “Aww look at the little guy.” *reaches over to poke the babies’ cheek*

Fairy Baby: *bites his hand with surprisingly sharp teeth*

Flash: *screams*

[juletheghoul]

adversary

a/n: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! just jumping on to post some Joel, hopefully you enjoy! 💕 not beta’d and barely proofread, but thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment for taking a look- this ones for you!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, bit of an age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Joel laying down the law and making sure you’re not in your head, allusions to past trauma, toxic relationship with Joel, but both parties like it- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

word count: 1k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

-

Surviving in the world, as it stood, meant keeping your face unreadable, and your mouth shut.

When Tommy had arrived in Jackson, he’d been easy to accept. He’d been humble and grateful, hardworking and eager to cement his place. Quiet. Peaceful.

Joel was a different beast. He tested your limits, broke the façade that had been crafted with care and time and trauma. The mask you’d created for safety, for the good of the community, had come terrifyingly close to cracking under the strength of his gaze. 

Maria had been wary when he’d shown up, and who could blame her judging by the things Tommy had whispered to her in their dark hours, but then again she’d been wary of you too. 

She still was. Sort of. 

Mostly it was a distant respect, what she felt for you, what you imagined everyone in Jackson must feel for you, If how they treated you was anything to go by. You were content with this though. A peaceful, quiet life was more than anything you could have hoped for. When people averted their eyes from you, when they kept their conversations short and to the point, when they left you alone, you took it as a sign, took it as good fortune. In this world, you were lucky to have this. 

Your solitude was the first thing Joel threatened. It was the first thing he took, and it wasn’t the last. He also took the comforting silence of an empty, safe, house. 

He took your hard-won peace. 

“Open the door.” His voice slipped through the cracks in the door like smoke, raising your heartbeat, as well as your blood pressure. 

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this again.” You opened the door, just a crack. 

“Go away, Joel.” 

“We never agreed on anythin’, don’t play dumb with me, woman, I saw you lookin’ at me this mornin’ just like I was lookin’ at you.” The toe of his boot slides just inside, stopping you from slamming the door in his face. 

“I don’t want you right now.” You crossed your arms, yet didn’t move. This was the game you always played, and he was wise to it now, so he laughed. 

“Yes you do, I can practically taste it.” It’s pitch black outside the house except for the glint in his eyes, he’s obviously in a good mood, which only sours yours further. “Let me in baby, I’m in a givin’ mood, let me be sweet to you.” His hand reaches through the crack in the door and strokes, petal-soft, at the skin of your arm. Instantly your body betrays you, blooms for him while outwardly, you seethe. 

“Come on darlin’,” His voice is warm honey now, “let me in so I can do all those things I know you like.” His towering frame presses closer, slipping through the widening crack in the door, and you let him.

-

A filthy moan slips past your mouth, and into his ego. 

“Such a good girl, takin’ this cock just how I need you to take it.” He swirls his hips, pressing deep enough to pull another moan despite the useless vow of silence you’d promised to no one except maybe your own pride. 

“Shut up-“ you pant with an embarrassing lack of any real bite, inwardly cursing him for how good it feels, while physically clutching at him harder. He laughs, slowing his movements down.

“You like it when I talk though, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are right now, drippin’ all over—“ you pull him closer, kissing him in the foolish attempt to disguise the noises you couldn’t seem to stop making, as well as stop him from pouring more gasoline onto the fire he lit in your veins. 

He got the hint, blessedly. He was in a giving mood, being real sweet despite how disrespectfully he was fucking you. 

His skin slips against yours, sweatslicked and warm as he crushes you to the mattress with every heavy stroke, his cock is so hard you vaguely wonder if he’d been imagining this. That thought turned you on, to know that despite the usual aversion, the perpetual scowl on his face that he’d been craving you for god knows how long - it made him seek you out. Whether or not you wanted to be the object of his desire, you still didn’t quite know. 

Thoughts spiraled though and soon the moans turned into frustrated sighs. The inner conflict he embodied for you chased away the pleasure, replaced it with inadequacy, with that ever-present melancholy and anxiety that was the new normal in this world. You felt him stop, felt him pull away, pull out of you with a grunt and the sour feeling swells. He can sense you’re not in it anymore, resigned to have to shower and chase the orgasm once he’s gone you blindly reach for the blanket—

“Turn over, hands and knees.”

“What? I thought-“

“Do what I say. Turn over.” His tone is serious and unquestionable, and it lights you up from the inside, even though you’d never admit it to him.

Once you get into position his hands are heavier, rougher. A heavy crack lands on your ass and you gasp, shocked, distracted. He enters you in once brutal thrust, giving you no time to get accustomed before he’s pulling you up, your back meeting his chest. 

“There it is, gotta get you out of that pretty little head, fuck you dumb.” He pants the words in your ear, his fingers slipping between your legs to pinch your clit. “That’s it baby, feel that?” His words are clipped, one hand working between your legs while the other holds your breast possessively, keeping you pressed tight. 

All thoughts are knocked out of your head by the heavy stroke of his cock, mindless, euphoric, rhythmic and divine. Tighter and tighter the coil winds, a full body clench only inches away from the brainless buzz of pleasure and when his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder it snaps. 

He grunts as your cunt squeezes him tight, clenching around his cock, milking him dry as he grinds himself deeper, as deep as he can. 

He says nothing as he dresses, nothing still as he walks down the stairs and out of your house. He never does, and as the blood cools and the exhaustion shoos away your consciousness, you vaguely wonder if you’d ever need him to.

-

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[ang3lc]

merry christmas, ya slags.

cw: none, johnnys oiled up and under your tree this year.

you’d been ranting about your latest dating disaster for the past twenty minutes, sprawled across johnny’s couch like it was your personal therapy session. johnny, on the other hand, was perched in his recliner, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he listened to you bemoan your fate.

���i just don’t get it,” you sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over your forehead. “why is it so hard to find a decent man? like, is there some sort of curse on me or something?”

johnny’s jaw clenched. he’d been biting his tongue for months, listening to you complain about men who weren’t good enough for you, all while ignoring the fact that he was obviously the best option.

“maybe you’re just blind,” he muttered under his breath, though you were too busy lamenting to hear him properly.

“what was that?”

“nothin’.” he waved you off, trying to keep his frustration in check. “keep goin’, 'm riveted.”

you sat up, squinting at him. “you’re being sarcastic.”

“nah,” he drawled, smirking in that infuriating way of his. “'m hangin’ on every word, promise.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press him further, deciding to let it slide. it wasn’t until later, when you were at home scrolling through instagram, and you saw a simple post from a meme account—neon pink background with text saying: “need a 6'3 man oiled tf up under my tree. santa, i’m begging.”—straight to the close friends.

it was meant to be funny, nothing more, but johnny was, in fact, a close friend. when he saw it, it was like a switch flipped in his brain.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. you’d gone on and on about not finding the right man, and here you were going on about it again. if this wasn’t his cue to finally make a move, he didn’t know what was.

christmas morning was supposed to be peaceful. you’d planned on sleeping in, maybe making yourself a nice breakfast while you watched cheesy holiday movies. instead, you woke up to the faint sound of movement coming from your living room.

your heart raced as you shuffled out of bed, grabbing the nearest “weapon” you could find—an empty water bottle—and tiptoed down the hall. you cursed yourself for not locking your bedroom door, or maybe the front door. but as you peered into the living room, weapon raised, you stopped dead in your tracks.

there, lying shirtless—and oiled up—beneath your christmas tree, was johnny.

“mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted with a lazy grin, propping himself up on one elbow.

“what the fuck?” you sputtered, staring at him in utter disbelief.

he stretched out languidly, looking entirely too comfortable on your living room floor. “just fulfillin’ yer christmas wish, bon. ye said ye wanted a man oiled up under yer tree, yeah?”

your jaw dropped as the realization hit you. “johnny, it was a meme! i was joking!” no you weren't.

he shrugged, his grin widening. “aye, but ye’ve been complainin’ abo' not havin’ a man for months, so i figured i’d do somethin’ abo' it.”

“this is insane,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you took in the absurd sight before you. his toned chest gleamed under the soft glow of the christmas lights, and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, even if he was driving you insane.

“Nae, 'm brilliant!” he countered, gesturing to himself. “look at me, lassie. ’m the full package—oiled, under the tree, and wrapped in nothin’ but me boxers.”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed. it bubbled out of you uncontrollably, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation breaking through your initial shock.

“you’re unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head.

“and yet,” he drawled, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees, “here ye are, not kickin’ me out. by the way, a water bottle's a shite excuse of a weapon.”

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “you broke into my house, johnny.”

“did nae such thing,” he said, feigning innocence. “ye gave me a key months ago, remember? said it was for 'emergencies'. this felt like one.”

“i've changed the locks since then, and this is not an emergency!”

he stood up, towering over you with that cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “depends how ye look at it.”

before you could argue, he stepped closer, his expression softening. “listen,” he said, his voice quieter now. “’m nae jokin’ when i say 'm tired of watchin’ ye pine after blokes who don’ see ye for who ye are. ye want someone under yer tree, yeah, someone to make ye happy? 'm right here, love. always have been.”

his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and for the first time, you saw him not as your goofy best friend, but as something more. and it definitely wasn't because of his resemblance to a fresh baked glazed donut.

“you’re serious,” you whispered, your chest tightening.

“dead serious,” he replied, his blue eyes locked on yours. “but it’s up to ye. tell me to go, and i’ll leave. but if you give me a chance, promise ye won’t regret it.”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears. then, without thinking, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

“aye,” he said, holding you tightly. “but ye love me for it, don’ ye?”

you looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “maybe.”

his grin widened. “that’s good enough for me.”

and as the snow fell quietly outside, you couldn’t help but think that this might just be the best christmas gift you’d ever received.

mlist

[solxamber]

hiii just checked out the holiday event, savanaclaw 7 fluffy? pls & ty :3

This is one of my favorites from what I've written for this event :3

Patchwork Promises || Ruggie Bucchi

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything." ; Genre: Fluff

The hole in the roof of Ramshackle was mocking you. Each night, you stared up at the sky, praying it wouldn’t rain. And each morning, you woke up feeling groggier than the day before. It was miserable, and you weren’t shy about complaining.

“It’s not just a hole,” you lamented to Ruggie one afternoon, kicking a stray pebble. “It’s a metaphor for my life falling apart.”

Ruggie chuckled, his sharp grin breaking through. “You’re dramatic, huh? It’s just a roof, not the end of the world.”

“It is the end of my world,” you insisted. “I can’t sleep, and Grim keeps blaming me for the drafts.”

That was the end of the conversation—or so you thought.

A week later, Ruggie showed up at Ramshackle with a hammer, a bag of nails, and an oddly proud smirk.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he waltzed past you and headed straight for the gaping hole.

“Fixing your roof, obviously.”

“What—how—Ruggie, did you pay for this?”

He shrugged, climbing a rickety ladder. “Yeah. I’ve been saving up.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’ve been running yourself ragged doing side jobs! You didn’t need to spend that money on me!”

You pressed your hands to your face, overwhelmed. “Ruggie, that money was for you. You could’ve spent it on food, or clothes, or... I don’t know, something fun! Not my falling-apart house!”

Ruggie glanced down at you, his eyes gleaming. “Well, I wanted to. Couldn’t stand the thought of you shivering all night while some draft talks smack about your life choices.”

He jumped down from the ladder after hammering the last nail in place, brushing his hands off with a satisfied look.

“Tell you what,” he said, stepping close. “If you’re feeling guilty, I’ve got a repayment plan.”

You blinked. “A repayment plan?”

“One kiss for every thaumark I spent.”

Your face went hot. “Ruggie!”

He smirked, leaning in just enough to make your knees wobble. “What? It’s fair. And I’d say I deserve it, considering how many jobs I took on for this.”

“How much did you spend?”

“Eh, a few hundred thaumarks.”

“Ruggie!”

He laughed, tugging you into a hug before you could argue further. “Relax, I’m messing with you. But seriously—don’t feel bad. For you? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Thaumarks come and go, but you…”

His voice softened, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. “You’re worth every single coin.”

Your heart swelled, and you hugged him back, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But you’re still getting your repayment.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You tilted your head, kissed his cheek, and grinned. “One thaumark at a time.”

The laughter that followed was louder than any rainstorm that might’ve passed through the night.

Masterlist

[mejaemin]

헤어져 ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) - pfu

wc: 1.5k

summary: pulling a “let’s break up” prank on bf!svt !! | pfu ver | hhu ver | vcu ver |

warnings: not proofread, breaking hearts UGH THEYRE TOO SOFT CUTIE FOR THIS I CANT, no real breakups, angst? kinda? not really? fear of breaking up, lmk if anything should fr be tagged

an: i lowkey hate how juju’s turned out … but it’s okay!!! i really wanted to get this done bc i found the req funny because just hearing the words “break up” reminds me of the kungkungdda video with atz yunho saying 헤어져… its lit been stuck in my head since the req came in

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

soonyoung

oh my love, he’d be so confused

you’re lucky the trend happens over text because if you did it in person and saw the pout on his face you’d give in right away !!!

he’s opening his phone after waking up in the morning, swiping his palm over his nose and the rest of his face before checking his notifications, when his heart drops

the first one, from you, saying “let’s talk” … quite ominous, no?

immediately he’s going to your house without asking to go and settle whatever he did right away.

you’ve already distracted yourself, staying busy with absolutely nothing while you leave your phone alone to build suspense. you nearly jump out of your socks when your front door starts wiggling, nearly falling out of the frame when it opens. turning around, you’re met with soonyoung, who’s extremely out of breath, clothes all mismatched as he stands in the doorway.

you rush over to him, “youngie, what are you-“

he cuts you off, grabbing you by your shoulders a little too roughly. his look is so intense yet anxious that he might put a dent in his forehead. “i’m really sorry. whatever i did, please forgive me. but you can’t- well you can, but- just please don’t break up with me, okay?”

immediately upon seeing his face, puffy from sleep and all wrinkled up in concern, you fold, taking him into your arms tightly. “oh soonie, i was joking, i promise.” you kiss his cheek, and his head turns so it lands on his lips. “you didn’t do anything, baby.”

he pulls his head back just enough to look in your eyes, eyebrow raised. “do you promise?”

with his cheeks between your palms you nod, pressing your lips to his forehead, holding them there to show you’re being genuine. “of course. i could never leave you, soonyoung.”

junhui

jun is always so quick to answer your text messages, leaving no time in between before answering you

clearly, when you send him a message saying “let’s break up”, his heart drops faster than it took for him to open the message.

immediately he’s sending a message, full of reassuring words.

“i’m so sorry that something happened to make you feel this way. i’ll be over shortly to talk about it, okay? hang tight, i’ll pick some stuff up on the way. just don’t give up, okay?”

you’re already regretting this at his words, feeling so much love for junhui and the way he takes you so seriously. he may be silly a lot of the time, but he handles serious moments so well. your heart genuinely hurts at the fact that he’s probably so worried right now, and all you’re doing is pranking him. when he gets here, you’ll make sure to give him relief.

there’s a knock on your door, and you rush to open it. junhui is standing there with a small bouquet of flowers and a bag with what appears to be snacks. “i know you might not be interested now, but here.. can we try fixing this?”

once you let him in he sets them down, and as soon as he turns around you’re taking his hands. immediately you’re confessing, seeing his unsure face. “juju.. i was joking. i saw people pranking on tiktok, and i-“

“ahh, i see. i was actually really scared just now.” he chuckles softly, cutting you off. “but forreal, it’s hard to tell tone over text. i’d rather you prank me like that in real life, okay?”

the anxiety fades away, and you’re both all smiles again. since he’s already with you, you sit down together for the rest of the night and spend it watching shows and eating what were supposed to be your break-up snacks.

minghao

we all know minghao’s heart is too tough for a prank as simple and common as this

of course, like anyone who’s madly on love, his heart will pick up at first, but he’s too observant!

you both established healthy methods to communicate the way you were feeling if something about the relationship made you uncomfortable, so when all these keywords and behaviors are suddenly thrown out the window his flags go up

you and him both take preserving the relationship and each other’s feelings seriously so you would never just say “i want to break up”

thus, he plays along

minghao is sitting across from you on the couch, reading a book when you call his name. he looks up, and when he hears you say you want to break up with him, an alarm goes off in his head. he closes the book and sits up straight, grabbing your hands to have a proper conversation.

“can i ask what makes you want to?” he’s so genuine, true concern in his eyes as he tries to hear you out.

you look in your lap, hiding your face while trying to keep up the theatrics. “i just.. don’t feel a spark anymore. i’m falling out of love.”

it’s that sentence that makes him realize what you’re doing. you both agreed that whenever a conversation of this scale occurs, you wouldn’t be vague about whatever you’re feeling. you’d communicate clearly, and make an effort to find a solution.

hiding his smirk, he nods, sighing heavily. “ah, okay. i understand. i’ll give you your space then.” he gets up, a solemn look on his face as he heads to your bedroom. as soon as his back is to you, he’s smirking, amused at the thought of waiting to see how long it’ll take before you crack.

clearly, it’s not long, because as soon as he shuts the door you’re up and running towards him. the door nearly breaks with how rushed you are at opening it, immediately crashing into him. “hao, oh my god, please, i was joking! don’t give me space, please, i don’t want it-“

he cuts you off, grabbing you by your chin to kiss you. “oh, i know, darling. i know every little thing about you, like what you do when you’re trying to trick me. now, let’s not do that again, okay? because i’ll gladly do it back.”

dino

just the idea of pranking chan in this way hurts your heart :(( he’s such a sweet boy !! however…

jeonghan waved quite the pretty penny in front of your face, claiming that it will be yours if you pull the prank on him.

you are very aware of chan being unable to catch a break when it comes to being pranked, but you could only pray that with this nice amount of money, he’ll understand

pulling the prank was definitely painful, though

you’re at an outing with chan and his brothers, hanging out at the porch of a getaway home with some of them. you’re by a fire, drinks in hand as you all chat. when chan notices that your cup is empty, he wordlessly takes it from you to go fill it.

as soon as he leaves, you feel a tap on your shoulder. turning your head, jeonghan is sitting next to you, waving his hand for you to lean in. “i’ll give you…” he digs into his pocket, finding nothing and then reaching into seungcheol’s, taking out a wad of cash and holding it in front of you. “this if you tell chan you want break up.”

immediately you’re looking at him with a bewildered look. why would you ever fumble the sweetest man in the world for money? he’s chuckling at your reaction, waving a hand dismissively. “all jokes, of course, but if you really get him i’ll give you all that. for real.”

jeonghan waves it in front of you once again, and you’ve seen how fat seungcheol’s wallet is. and a few of the digits on those bills were pretty large, so… chan will understand, right? maybe scaring him a little for all this will be worth it, right? you can go out together with your winnings…

you sigh, nodding your head. “fine. but if it ends bad, you’ll clean up the mess. and then i’ll kill you.” you smile, shaking his hand before turning to chan who finally returned.

he hands you your drink with a kids to your forehead before sitting down. “what were you guys talking about?” he’s smiling so sweetly at you, and it makes your heart literally hurt at what you’re about to do.

“chan, i think we should break up.” you’re almost grimacing at yourself, and at that sentence everyone around the fire stops talking. no way the couple who makes everyone believe in true love is about to split.

“um, what..? are you..” he can’t even finish his sentence, swallowing heavily as his vision almost starts shaking.

immediately, being unable to take the torture anymore, you turn to jeonghan, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. through many complaints, whining and yelling at the elder, you grab the aforementioned money from his pocket.

triumphantly you kiss chan on the lips, pulling away and showing him your new prize. “i’m so, so sorry, channie, truly i would never break up with you, but look what he offered! please say you understand…”

immediately your boyfriend relaxes, eyes narrowing as he looks at the man behind you. “watch your back, han. seriously. that money almost went towards my funeral funds, i swear.”

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[no-144444]

prison, not a promise- l.norris

summary: lando proposes and it doesn't go as planned...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He genuinely thought you would’ve been the woman he married. He believed that the moment he got down on one knee, you would’ve burst into tears in front of him and said yes. 

He’d never expected that. 

People (understandably) thought you were fucking crazy. Who would say no to Lando Norris? Who would give up the chance to be rich and famous forever, to have one of the most sought-after men on the planet forever? 

Well, those people didn’t know what it meant to be ‘loved’ by Lando Norris. They didn’t see the constant fights and beratings. They wouldn’t know about the fact that you hadn’t felt like yourself for an entire year. They didn’t know about the sleepless nights, sitting there and wondering, hoping that you were enough. They didn’t know that an engagement ring would've been a prison, not a promise. 

You both walked into his apartment, silent. You hadn’t said ‘no’, saying ‘yes’ while in public just to keep up appearances,  but Lando knew, the second you two got in the car, you weren't happy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to lean into him one last time, be his one last time. That was the Lando you fell for. The one that hugged and kissed you like no one else would ever matter to him, the one that looked at you like you held up the stars just for him. You never expected the honeymoon stage to last forever, but these fights weren’t normal. He ripped apart your character, your appearance, anything, just to make you feel as upset as him. You\’d been together for 4 years, and the problems started when he became Max’s rival.

“Lando, we’re not happy,” you started, feeling his hands drop from your waist. You turned around to face him. “At least, I’m not. I do everything you ask of me. I cook and clean, I dress up nice, I follow you around the fucking world and I gave up my dreams so that you could always have me at races. Now, all we do is fight. I’m fucking sick of it, alright? I’m tired of the fact that you either don’t love me anymore, or you don’t respect me, and I’d like to thank you for the 3 wonderful years we had before this year, and give you back your ring. You deserve someone less ambitious. You deserve someone paper-cut to be a WAG, Lando. I’m not that girl,” you sighed tearily. “When you find her, I suggest you tell her that you can be mean, you can be selfish, and you can be forgetful, but the trade for that is the sweetest man on the planet once the anger wears off. I’ve been around angry men my entire life, and I will not marry one. I’ll grab my things tomorrow. Goodbye Lando,” you brushed back at him, placing the golden engagement ring in his hand as you passed him by. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You left Monaco with all of your belongings, and went back home. You bought an apartment, and started your new job as a college professor. Before Lando you had been the best mathematician in the world. You had offers from every college from every college, but you chose the one closest to home. You didn’t think about Lando for months. You focused all of you attention on your students, all of your life was spent around numbers. You were finally happy. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated, you felt beautiful, and you felt happy. 

“Y/n,” the British accent you knew so well made you physically cringe. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is it a mathematical problem?” you asked, not turning around as you sorted through papers. 

“Not really?” he chuckled. “Please just look at me.”

You slowly turned around and looked at him. He looked like shit. 

“I won,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I’m the Champion of the World.”

You held out your hand to shake his. “Congratulations.”

He took it with a frown. “I’m quitting F1.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that. “Why?”

“I did something really fucking stupid two years ago, and i need to make it right,” he admitted. “Y/n, I’m sorry. There’s no one else for me. You’re it. You’re my person, you make me feel so alive, so happy, so free, and I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without you. Then I lived it. And it sucked. I know I’m an asshole, and I know you’re probably much better off without me, but I’m begging you, just let me back in your life, please? I’m falling apart without you baby.”

You stared at him. “Lando, I’m not asking you to stop racing because of me-”

“I did,” he smiled. 

“I’m not taking you back,” you insisted. “You made me feel like a shell of my actual self for a year, and I held on because I knew you needed a punching bag so that you wouldn’t take it out on the people around you. I don’t miss you. I don’t love you. I don’t want to see you.”

His face fell and he was quiet for a moment. “So I’ve really fucked it up?”

“Yeah, now get the fuck out of my lab.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅ A few months went by and the 2026 season started, and Landow as still on the grid, shocker. You didn’t care, he was a fucking asshole who didn’t deserve your time or companionship. You hoped he would choke every race start (which he did), get outperformed by Oscar (which he did), and loose to the WDC to Oscar (which he did). Karma.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[xxgoldie]

let me spoil you

in which Lighter gets spoilt to filth on his birthday wc: 2.3k cw / notes: lighter x afab!reader, explicit (MDNI!!), sub!lighter but the d/s dynamics are minor, reader wears lingerie, body worship, light bondage (on lighter), p in v sex, raw sex, riding, light marking, nipple play, edging, dacyrphilia if you squint ig?, giving lighter the love he DESERVES

"I don't want to be greedy," Lighter teased, mouth breaking from yours and looking up at where you were sat on his lap, "but wasn't I promised one more birthday present?"

You let out a breathless giggle as his hands slid up your dress, and another at the ill-concealed confusion on his face when his fingers found the cotton of your usual underwear. It was true - you'd been hinting for days about a special extra present, not trying to hide that you'd bought some new lingerie for this occasion. His eyes had been scanning you all day, unashamedly imagining in the back of his mind what lacy creation you had on under your clothes as festivities with the gang went on.

"It's not really one I could wear underneath," you explained, yet another laugh escaping as you watched the cogs turn in his mind, adding the new information to whatever mental algorithm was guessing what you had prepared for him - cute, like he hadn't been grinding up into you so sinfully just seconds before, "but also... there's something I'd like to try today, if you're up for it."

"Oh? What's that, baby?" Lighter's tone was playful, but the look in his eye was filled with so much love. Bedroom or not, there were very few things he wouldn't try if it was for you - besides, since you'd chosen his birthday to ask, he figured you had something good for him.

"I want to tie you up."

Oh. That wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected. But he also hadn't expected that his first instinct would be excitement - sure, you'd taken the lead in bed before, but having that much control over him? Lighter swallowed thickly - god, that was so hot. Not what he'd had in mind for today, but hot.

"Not, like, a lot. And we don't have to! It's up to you, obviously-" you said, his momentary silence making you backtrack.

"Hey, breathe, babe, I'm not against it," Lighter's hand, still resting at the hemline of your panties, rubbed against your skin reassuringly. His words were chosen carefully, keeping the idea on the table without seeming too excited. He maintained a certain persona - one that, for the most part, crumbled the second you got him alone, but some instinct kept a few bricks of that wall up, not wanting to let out that being at your complete mercy sounded like heaven to him. "It's just... not what I expected. Doesn't the cliche go that you'd be the one tied up as a present for me?"

"Yeah, I know. But I know you, Lighter. You're far too good to me," you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, "And if I let you have your way with me, you're just going to be thinking about making me feel good. It's your birthday, I want to make it all about you- and do not even start about how you feel good when I do, that's not the point."

Slight surprise crossed Lighter as those exact words died on his tongue. You knew him so well, knew exactly how he loved you and how to love him back, all his rough spots and weak points, so you knew exactly where to push to make his last dregs of hesitation fly out the window, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Let me spoil you, birthday boy"

That's all it took for him to nod in agreement, following your instructions to get undressed and wait for you in the bedroom while you got changed. If he hadn't agreed before, the moment you came out in that lingerie, lacy white accented with black frills and bows, a sheer babydoll overtop that explained why you couldn't wear it under your dress, he'd have agreed in a heartbeat. Lighter tended to be weak to your every whim, but especially when your body was on display for him.

You'd arranged restraints as well, soft red rope with golden fastenings, and laughed as you fought off his attempts to touch and kiss you all over in that outfit, decidedly distracted despite the plans he himself had just agreed to, and fairly adept at distracting you, though not enough to stop his legs from being tied to opposing ends of the footboard, spread out, while one rope tied his wrists together and to the headboard above him. Fully exposed, and laid bare for you.

You were straddled across him now, resting on his chest just shy of where his dick, fully hard at this point, strained against his lower abdomen, your lips pressing kiss after kiss along his jaw, neck, collarbone. Tucked into your bra was a tube of lipstick, a shade of red you knew he adored on you, which you'd been using to litter his skin with red kiss marks, a pretty medley with the occasional purple mark you'd sucked onto him. You'd re-applied the product to your lips twice by now.

"Baby..." Lighter breathed, looking up at you with a frustrated pout. He'd meant it to sound warning, but it came out as more of a whine, the complete lack of attention to his leaking cock getting him increasingly desperate. The restraints on his legs kept any thrust of his hips from being meaningful, the ones on his hands stopped him from pulling you down lower. Not to mention, it was driving him insane not to touch you, seeing you looking so delectable and feeling your crotch on his chest and lips against his skin but nothing against his fingers.

"What?" you feigned innocence, but your gaze was lidded as you sat up and admired your masterpiece. Your nails raked lightly against his skin, just short of hard enough to graze him as they traveled lower. "I want to take my time with you."

Your nail caught on his nipple, drawing a sharp breath from his lips. You took the cue, lips finally reaching below his collarbone to close around the bud. A deep groan, his chest arching into your touch at the playful swirl of your tongue, two of your fingers rolling the other one. His breathing was heavy, hitching on every harsher tug or light suck as he tried to conceal just how sensitive you had him by now. But your mouth didn't stay put for long, the allure of leaving even more pretty red kiss marks on him simply too great. Still tweaking his nipple, you trailed kisses upwards, outlining the large jagged scar across his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," you breathed against his skin, sitting up once again, eyes raking shamelessly over his body. The only thing he could get out was a choked moan, your words coinciding with a sharp pinch to his nipple. "Literally so perfect."

You really made his head spin - 'hot' and 'handsome' he heard often enough, and you called him 'cute' a lot, but 'beautiful'? Lighter wasn't sure anyone had called him beautiful before, especially not while lathing the reminders of his ugly past with affection that was simultaneously too much and not enough. He could only buck his hips fruitlessly, just short of the touch he needed to both release the tension and distract him from just how in love he felt, a feeling so overwhelming it scared him a little.

"You're amazing, Lighter-" you continued between kisses to his chest, "-so amazing-" your lipstick was basically gone now, a few smudges left around your mouth, but you didn't seem bothered about reapplying it this time, more concerned with kissing every possible inch of his skin, "-it is such a privilege to love you-" your mouth trailed lower, and amazingly, for the first time, so did the rest of your body, slowly sliding down his abdomen to give yourself more room "-and I'll tell you every opportunity I get-" and finally, finally you slid down low enough that you were seated on his dick "-I love you-" another kiss "-I love you-" and another "-I love you-" and suddenly your face was in front of his and you kissed him on the lips, greedily swallowing his groan as you roll your hips against his.

And it was all too much - the damp friction that he had been moments away from begging for, every word and touch you blessed him with, the ever-sweet sensation of your lips moving against his so deeply and tenderly - and when you finally pulled away, you could see the faint wet trail of a couple tears along his face, olive eyes glossy and looking up at you as if you were the answer to his every prayer. Still, a look of worry washed over you at the tears, movement of your hips stilling as you brushed the wetness away with your thumb.

"Are you okay?" you asked, and Lighter couldn't help but chuckle even as another stray tear slipped down his cheek at the soft concern in your voice.

"I don't deserve you," he managed, smiling at you so lovingly you just had to laugh along with him. You leaned down, another kiss on his lips as the tension melted from you.

"You deserve every good thing that comes your way, Lighter," you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear as your hips resumed their slow grinding. He almost felt a little pathetic, crying at your sweet words, but a well-aimed movement against his cock, the keening whine you let out as the head caught your clit, had all those thoughts flying out the window. His gasped moan harmonised with the clatter of his restraints against the bedframe as he momentarily forgot his hands were tied, automatically moving to try and grab your waist and push you down harder.

Though, as usual, you knew exactly what he needed, only grinding a moment more before you lifted to pull your panties to the side, ready to sink onto him-

"I- Wait-" Lighter managed, silently cursing himself for listening to the responsible part of his brain, "Don't you want to use a condom?"

"Do you?"

Your eyebrow quirked incredulously, playful smirk on your face like when you presented someone with a gift you knew they'd love, and the thought echoed in his mind so clearly Lighter was almost surprised he didn't say it out loud.

'I need to marry you.'

His reply must have been written across his face, though, because you resumed your movement, your head falling back at the stretch with virtually no preparation, while Lighter let out his own moan with the feeling of your gummy walls slowly taking in more and more of him. Finally seated fully on his cock, you shot him a smile, a little dazed at being so full, then started moving, a slow, sensual rhythm as you bounced lightly and grinded against him. He had to fight the instinct to let his head fall back, the show in front of him far too hypnotising as you fucked yourself on him, pretty moans falling from your lips at every tiny thrust he managed in his position.

"Shit, baby, so pretty for me, please-" you clenched around him at his praise, speeding your movements and causing another deep groan to escape him, "fuck, please, just like that, baby please-"

"What do you need?" you managed despite the way he filled you up so perfectly, taking in how gorgeous he looked, muscular chest littered with red kisses, face flushed and eyes glossy, raking over you with the same indulgence as those unspecified pleas tumbled out.

"Need- shit, need to hold you-" he cut himself off with a moan as you tightened around him, pulling at the restraints on his hands to accentuate his point. It didn't take him any more begging for you to reach up, slightly lifting off his cock to reach the fabric around his wrists. As pretty as he looked all laid out for you and yearning, you couldn't deny you missed his calloused hands on your skin.

As soon as the rope loosened enough for Lighter's wrists to slip out, he was sitting up, chest pressed against yours, one hand groping at your breasts as the other wrapped around your waist, pushing himself impossibly deeper, pulling you impossibly closer. He peppered your face with kisses, lopsided grin forming on his face as you couldn't help but giggle, before his face found its place in the crook of your neck, muttering sweet and filthy nothings into your skin as he lathed it in kisses and nips.

"I'm- fuck, I'm close-" he groaned, the hand on your breast migrating down to rub circles on your clit, the roughness of his fingertips against it sending your back arching.

"Inside. Please," you whined, bouncing yourself faster in time with his shallow thrusts, "'m close too-"

With one final sharp thrust and stuttered moan, Lighter spilled inside you, pulling you down as deep as you could possibly go. His head almost felt fuzzy as you spasmed around his sensitive length, pressing crescent shapes into his shoulders with your fingernails as the feeling of his hot seed sent you over the edge as well.

Gently, he lowered himself back down onto the bed, careful not to pull out as he pulled you down with him to lay on his chest. You looked up at him, that lovesick gaze he never really knew what to do with as you breathed heavily, coming down from your high.

"Did you like your present?" you managed, still singsong and playful as your finger traced the many outlines of your lips on his skin.

"I think-" Lighter responded, brushing a stray hair from your face before cupping your cheek, "I think I'm the luckiest man alive."

[star--stilinski]

i need some much stiles

much stiles, much happy! jk, i understand ya. i just love making fun of typos because i'm actually evil.

☆

stiles is insatiable.

seriously, no matter how much you squirm and whine, he won't fucking quit. you started this, though. you suppose it might be warranted.

of course, your "starting it" was all in compassion. when he first asked (a husky mumble in your ear as he tugged at the waistband of your sweats), you had told him he'd be disappointed. that only certain guys really actually like it. that you haven't shaved, aren't pornstar pretty, your thighs might actually crush him.

and he took that very personally.

told you that "any real man knows getting crushed by thighs like yours while tasting your orgasm is the real way to end their evening" and went even further to say that "if you seriously expect me to be attracted to that child-looking shit then you're sorely mistaken." he then proceeded to lay you back and get comfy between your legs.

you didn't realize the monster you'd create.

he moaned when he first tasted you, after ample "warm up" (his words, not yours) and a good amount of ogling your up-close sex. his movements started off unsure and a bit sloppy, before he found his rhythm and got confident. from there, he was bringing you close and then pulling you back a few times, just for the fucking fun of it. it was the most torturous pleasure you'd ever felt.

after the first orgasm (where you unconsciously thanked him over and over, which unlocked a new kink for him. yippee.), your back arched slightly and your lips parted in a moan, you expected that to be it. the end. maybe a hand job for his fantastic work and then knocking out after a shower.

instead, stiles didn't even let up.

his eyes are closed, humming against your clit as he holds you by the thighs. partly because, well, stiles loves your thighs. and partly because he has to keep you still.

overstimulation hurts so good. you tug at his hair, gasping "stiles, it hurts, please," and he relents. but he only pulls back a bit, giving you a moment of relief as he licks his lips with hooded eyes trained on you.

"you okay, baby?" his words seem to bleed into one another, hands squeezing your plush thighs like he's holding himself back. the sight it downright evil, really; you've already forgotten how it hurt for him to keep going.

your head falls back onto your pillows and you scrunch your features up. "you don't have to-"

"please, i want to, please." his tone takes a rapid uptick into begging territory. "only a little longer, promise i'll be good, make you feel so good. just a bit more, yeah?"

you lift your head, tired and breathless, to meet his eyes. they're unfocused as he flicks his attention between you and your sex. letting your head rest back on the cushions, you take a deep breath and nod once. "alright, just a little longer."

"thank you, fuck. thank you so much baby." stiles litters kisses all over the insides of your thighs, his own way of showing gratitude before he dives back in, eyelashes notably fluttering when he takes a taste of you again.

he's not very kind after that.

round two, then three, and by the fourth- your jaw is slack and your brow is pinched together, but you're not sure if the expression is from pleasure or pain. when you come, actual tears prick at your eyes. stiles' tongue flicks your sensitive clit, working you over the edge, as you babble nonsense in your haze. this orgasm peaks with it's own bundle of pain involved, and your nerves seem to be getting the two mixed up as your hips attempt to twitch, held in place by stiles' big, demanding hands.

"tastes so good, mhmm, been thinking about this forever," stiles' words are barely audible as he looks up at you. his face is glistening, basically from nose to chin, and he's totally pussy drunk. you've never believed that expression until you see it in stiles' hooded eyes, head resting against your thigh. his cheeks are completely flushed and his hands are massaging your hips with more pressure than necessary, probably not even aware of the motion since his own hips are lazily grinding into the mattress.

you let out a heavy breath and smooth your fingers over his hair to try and fix what you did when you were preoccupied. it doesn't help the tameless mess he's sporting, but the look kinda suits him. "so?"

he blinks slowly, smiling up at you like you're the one who looks completely in love. well, you're four orgasms deep and stiles looks so pretty in between your thighs, so... maybe you do look like that. he licks his lips, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. "so, what?"

"d-did- are you disappointed?" the question sounds stupid now that it's out of your mouth, but he's too far gone to even laugh at you.

"jesus, no. could do this all day if you'd let me." his brow furrows. "would you let me?"

you laugh breathlessly and let your head fall against the pillows, scratching his scalp lightly. "i dunno. maybe." tugging him by the hair (which causes a sudden buck of his hips where they're grinding. go figure) you mumble, "c'mere?"

he crawls over you, wiping his face off on the way, and collapses while pressing his face into your neck. "yeah? what're you thinking about?"

you breathe in his scent, mind filled with stilesstilesstilesstilesstiles. "you. what are you thinking about?"

his arms wrap around you comfortably. "you."

"you can't have the same answer." your voice is weaker with his body weight on you. "that's cheating."

"alright, fine. i'm thinking about eating you out again."

"jesus, stiles." you feel him smile against your neck, and his arms tighten around you.

"what? i'm hungry!"

"it's not a- god, i've made a monster!" you laugh and cover your eyes, feeling him lift himself halfway off of you. "this is going to be the death of me."

"correction," his voice lowers, and you feel him planting kisses down your neck, then your chest. as he gets to your stomach, you peek through your fingers to find him assuming his previous position.

"i'm going to be the death of you."

☆

yayyy i'm posting while in a slump!!!!!!!! yayyy i'm not a total failure!!!!!!!!!!! (sobs heard in the distance)

sorry this is my worst ever creation look at this ugly FREAK

[strawb3heart]

All I want for Christmas || Charles Leclerc

summary: Surprising Charles with the gift he had dreamed of getting since he was a little kid

warning: kinda short (as always, sorry 😭)

This was the sixth year that Charles and you spend hours decorating the apartment, full with lights and little ornaments to make it all look good. But this year, something was different, well, not something, someone.

It took months for Charles to convince you to adopt a puppy, until three weeks later, willow appeared in yours and your fiancé's life. And now, you were more than happy with your, now, son.

"Can you imagine him destroying his Christmas sweater?" Charles said while you just laughed knowing that he would probably do that "Let's just hope this young man doesn't pee on any furniture" you said finishing to unpack the nutcracker you both bought in Germany two years ago.

"You need help with that, mon amour?" Leclerc said as you were struggling to put it in the right place. You just nodded giving him the space he needed.

When you both finished decorating, the music seemed to have turned into a happier mood. While Charles was entertained playing with Willow, your thoughts seemed to drain to another topic, the christmas gift you had gotten him.

Where'd all the time go? You have known Charles since you were kids, practically babies. And, since you had met him, he had told you about his dream as a little kid, he had always wanted a white piano. He now had a classic black piano but you knew his last-long dream was to have the white one.

So, when you spotted a white piano while christmas shopping, you knew you would surprise him.

Hiding the piano was not an easy job but you managed to limit the access he had to the guest room, where it was hidden.

Now, you had the only task of getting Charles to follow you to the guest room, which wasn't particularly hard.

"Mon cœur, can I take this off already?" He asked referring to the scarf he had around his sight. "Yes, love, we are settled" You said while holding Willow to give him space.

"Are you kidding me?" Was the first thing he said after taking the scarf off "Mon Dieu, love, this is... wow. " his smile was as bright as the moon while admiring the piano.

It felt surreal to him "You remembered" his face lit up while starring at you and walking to hug you. "Of course I remembered" you smiled back at him

"I truly love you. This meant the world to me" he said while you both were hugging, having willow in the middle between the two of you. "I love our little family, thanks so much for this, for everything" he added

"You'll always have us by your side, amour, it's a promise"

hope you liked this little blurb, I know i always write really short drafts but I promise trying to write more luvs. <33

requests are always opened 🌷

[mclacedes]

A Fading Echo (LH44)

CHAPTER II: Going Home

a/n: this is NOT PROOF READ

warnings: breakup, abu dhabi ‘21, rude!lewis, depression, gaslighting, fighting

★ previous chapter

★ next chapter

“For a moment, he wanted to break down and beg Willem not to leave. Don't go, he wanted to tell him. Stay here with me. I'm scared to be alone.”

- Hanya Yanagihara, "A Little Life"

He remembers your final battle—the fight that ended it all; the decision-maker, the deal-breaker.

Four years. You had been together for four beautiful, though turbulent, years. The kind of love story that felt unshakable, weathering the storms life hurled your way. You had your own career, pursuing the dreams you’d cherished since you were a kid. You were finally at a stage in life where everything felt like it fit perfectly. And with him by your side, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

By 2020—your third year together—things had grown serious, the kind of serious that made people whisper about rings and forever.

You still remember the phone call in March 2020, just as the world began to crumble under the weight of a pandemic, when asked you the question, his voice calm but carrying a thread of anticipation.

“Quarantine with me. In the UK,” he said, his words slicing through the static.

You froze, caught completely off guard. The emotions hit you all at once—joy, anxiety, disbelief—so quickly that you couldn’t string a coherent thought together.

“Y/n?” His voice softened. “You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” you stammered, your mind still reeling. “I’m just… a little unprepared for that question.”

The pandemic was spiraling into chaos. Quarantine was the new normal, with no end in sight. Weeks? Months? Years? No one knew. There was no vaccine, no cure, just endless uncertainty. The thought of being confined in one place for so long felt suffocating.

“It's just… That's not my house, I don't know if I’ll…” he had this unbearable habit of cutting you off in the middle of a sentence.

“I know, but we can make it home,” you could tell he was beaming with pride for coming up with that sentence. “Home is wherever you are.”

It sounded like a promise. Like he was for real.

“Besides, there won’t be any races for a while. Things will be peaceful, quiet… just us. I think we can make it fun at home, huh?”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Despite the fear and uncertainty, the thought of being with him—just him—was comforting.

You took a deep breath, letting the idea sink in. “Okay, it sounds nice,” and you smiled.

And it was nice. More than nice, really. Those weeks together were filled with laughter and quiet moments, a bubble of peace in a chaotic world.

Eventually, though, he had to leave again. Racing had resumed, and his life called him back to the track. You went to as many races as you could, though he always worried.

“I don’t want you catching that thing,” he’d say, his protective nature shining through.

You’d laugh it off, but you knew he meant it. Those months felt like a rhythm you could get used to—brief separations and joyous reunions. You thought you had found your balance.

But cracks have a way of forming when you least expect them—because people talk. They speculate. They conspire. Perched on the edges of lives they don’t know, they wait for their chance to unravel something beautiful.

Your relationship became a sweet treat for an internet starved for the meanest way to make somebody seem interesting, a spectacle to devour and distort—somebody had to feed those vultures.

By mid-2021, Twitter was buzzing with talk of rings, cradles and bibs. People dissected your (and his) every move, searching for signs of the next big step. But while the world fantasized about your future, Lewis was consumed by a fight of his own—that year's championship; the toughest battle since 2016, since Nico.

You knew his career had always been his first love, the thing that made his heart pump and his eyes shine long before they settled on you. Just as you had your own dreams to chase, he had his. And in 2021, those dreams demanded everything from him—his time, his attention, his softness, and, it seemed, his love for you.

By late 2021, the cracks in your once unshakable foundation had grown too wide to ignore. The championship consumed him, pulling him further away, and you—desperately holding on—began to feel more like an obligation than a partner.

It started with the little things: unanswered texts, “I was catching up on data”, missed calls, conversations cut short with a distracted “Sorry, I’ll call you later”. Later never came thought. Even when you were physically together, his mind was elsewhere, a thousand miles ahead, already focused on the next race, the next strategy meeting, the next battle on track.

You tried to understand. You reminded yourself of his passion, his drive, the fire that had drawn you to him in the first place. But understanding didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

Then it crumbled. December, after Abu Dhabi. It was like everything started to shut down, like multiple organ failure—there’s no surgery to save your relationship. The worst part is that you knew it—you both. The even worse part was that you let it go so easily.

The fallout from that race was cataclysmic, not just for him but for you too. He came home shattered—a man stripped of everything he’d worked for, everything he believed in. You wanted to be there for him, to help him rebuild, but he wouldn’t let you in. He was silent, withdrawn, a ghost of the man who had once made you feel like the center of his universe.

“I’m here if you wanna talk,” you had reassured him once, your voice soft, during a quietly bitter dinner.

“I don’t want to,” he replied sharply, his tone cold and clipped, not even looking up from his plate.

“I know, but what I mean is that—”

“I know what you mean, Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice laced with impatience. “Please, can we just eat?”

The finality in his words stung, sharp and unforgiving. Recessive and heartbroken, you nodded, lowering your gaze to the plate of food you had poured your heart into making—a meal that now tasted like ash in your mouth.

The days dragged on after that, each one heavier than the last. Conversations became sparse, filled only with superficial pleasantries or curt exchanges. The man who used to pull you into his arms and make you laugh until your sides ached now felt like a stranger in your own home.

And then came the day he told you he was leaving.

“I’m going over to my parents,” he said one evening, his voice flat, drained of its usual warmth, as the chill of December crept into the Monaco air.

You blinked, still sitting on the couch surrounded by a scattering of holiday cards you’d been addressing. The weight of his words took a moment to settle.

“Didn’t know they’d spend Christmas with us,” you said, absent-minded, not understanding what he meant yet.

“No,” he clarified, his tone cool and detached. “I’m going home.”

The room seemed to close in around you, the once-welcoming space now feeling alien and far too empty. “Okay… I’ll pack my bags,” you said quickly, standing up abruptly, as if to act like nothing had changed. “How long are we staying there? I hope you’re aware that I’m going home for New Year’s—”

“No, Y/N.” He cut you off, his words sharp enough to slice through the air. “I need to go by myself. Just me and my parents for once.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words. “Oh. Umm… Okay,” you managed to say, your throat tightening, tears threatening to spill. “It’s just that we… we had planned this. We were supposed to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Plans changed.”

The dismissal stung, sharp and biting, like a slap to the face. And then, the silence.

“What happened, Lewis?” you asked, the crack in your voice betraying the storm brewing inside.

“How is that even a question?” he snapped, his brow furrowed, disbelief coloring his words. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking from his every pore. “It’s right in front of you, Y/N. It’s been right in front of you.”

“No, it hasn’t!” you shot back, the words tumbling out in a mix of anger and desperation. “You’ve been shutting me out for months. I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore because you won’t talk to me! You won’t let me in!”

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” he retorted, his voice rising, defensive. “I’m the bad guy for not wanting to drown you in my shit? For needing space to deal with the fact that my career—my legacy—was torn apart in front of the entire world?” He turned his back on you, heading toward the hallway that led to your shared bedroom.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lewis!” you shouted, following him, the frustration boiling over. “The thing is, you made me believe we were a team. We’d face things together. And now, when it matters most, you’re shutting me out!”

But he didn’t listen. His steps were heavy, his mind already elsewhere.

“You said you’re going home!” You screamed, and this time, he finally stopped, his body tensing.

He turned around, his face a storm of frustration. “I am going home, Y/N. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“What happened to ‘home is wherever you are, Y/N’?” you repeated, your voice shaking with raw emotion. “This isn’t your home anymore? After everything we’ve built together, I’m not your home?”

He scoffed, a cruel sound that sliced through the air. “You’re twisting my words.”

“No, I’m not!” you retorted, your heart pounding, desperate to be heard. “I’m just trying to understand why you think running back to the UK and shutting me out is the answer to anything. You barely even look at me anymore, Lewis. Do you even want me here?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp, though still defensive.

“It means you’ve kept me on the edge for so long. You’re here, but not really. And when you’re gone, we don’t talk. You disappear. I’m not even a part of your life anymore!” You could feel the tears in your throat, but you fought them back. “You dismiss everything we talked about—marriage, kids, a future. Like none of it matters to you anymore. Like you don’t want me in your life at all. It feels like you hate me!”

“Argh, here you go again,” he snarled, his fists clenching. “Shit, you always do this,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Always making it about you,” his index pointed straight at you.

“Because it is about us!” you cried, your voice breaking. “It’s about me too, isn’t it? I’m not some option you can just turn off when you don’t feel like dealing with me!”

“Well, I’m the one dealing with shit right now,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. “And instead of supporting me, you’re interrogating me, saying I don’t care about you. You think that talking about babies and rings is going to fix anything? You don’t get it, Y/N! You’re so focused on your timeline, on what you think I should be giving you, that you can’t see that I’m falling apart!”

You stood frozen, the sting of his words slicing through you like ice. “That’s not fair, Lewis. I’ve been supporting you—”

“Have you?” he interrupted coldly, his voice full of bitterness. “Because all I hear is how you feel. I’m the one who’s lost everything, but somehow, I’m the one to blame. You’ve made this all about you.”

“You keep saying you’ve lost everything, but no,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears now spilling. “You haven’t lost everything. Your legacy is still there. You’re a legend. It’s always going to be remembered. But you’re so lost in your own darkness that you can’t see what’s still in front of you. You’ve lost a championship, so what?”

Lewis’s face twisted with rage, his eyes seething as he glared at you. “So what?” he echoed bitterly. “You think it’s just about a damn race? It’s not just the championship, Y/N. It’s everything. They took it from me. They stole it from me, right in front of everyone’s eyes. And all you can do is lecture me like I’m being unreasonable? You’re standing here talking about legacy and what I’ve achieved, but none of that matters if it’s all been ripped away. What’s left of me when they’ve taken everything?” he said, forcing himself to maintain his composure.

“Yeah, and what's left of us, Lewis?”

The words hit him harder than you expected, and for a moment, he was silent, his jaw tightening. His chest heaved, and his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of pain and frustration swirling in them.

“What do you mean, what's left of us?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly, as though he was trying to understand.

“We,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, barely above a whisper. “What’s left of us when you shut me out like this? When you push me away every time I try to help you, every time I try to understand? What happens when you keep giving them, the media, more than you give to this relationship?”

“I don’t think I have the mindspace to dwell on that anymore, Y/N,” He stood there, seemingly distant, his eyes avoiding yours now. The air between you both felt colder, thicker, like an impenetrable wall had risen between the two of you.

“See? That's what I’m talking about! You’ll just run away, packing it up and not talking to me. You can’t just not think about it, Lewis,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “You can’t just shut everything out because it’s easier than facing it. This relationship—us—it’s not a convenience, it’s not something you can just leave behind when it doesn’t fit your narrative anymore.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for a retort but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said, “I can’t give you what you need right now, Y/N. I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Lewis,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I just need you to let me in. I need you to trust me enough to share the weight.”

He shook his head, looking away as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is!” you insisted, the tears you’d been holding back spilling over now. “You’re choosing to leave me out. You’re actively choosing to push me away. That’s not about the championship or your career—that’s about us. And it’s killing me, Lewis.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, his face a blank mask. And then, in a voice so quiet, so small, it shattered your heart, he said, “Maybe we were never as strong as we thought we were.”

The words slammed into you like a punch to the gut, leaving you gasping for air. “You don’t mean that,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, cracking under the weight of the truth you didn’t want to face.

Time seemed to slow as he reached for his house keys, his car keys, and the packed handbag—each movement like a dagger slowly twisting deeper into your chest.

“Lewis, no,” you begged, your voice raw, desperation flooding your veins. “No, please, don’t do this. Please stay…”

But he didn’t look back. He didn’t even flinch at your broken cries.

“I’ll see you around,” he muttered, his words empty, hollow. His tone was void of everything that once mattered. Without another word, he walked out, the door slamming shut behind him with a deafening finality.

The silence that followed was suffocating, the sound of the door’s closure ringing in your ears like a death knell. You were left standing there, frozen, in a sea of devastation. Alone. Lost. And questioning everything that had once been so sure.

Nothing was ever the same after that.

For him, that wasn’t just the loss of a championship—it was the loss of himself. Of everything he thought he could hold onto.

You watched helplessly as he sought solace in everything else—the noise, the distractions, the empty comforts—anything but you. Everyone else seemed to understand the depths of his pain, the weight of his loss, except for you. And that fact stung worse than anything he’d said.

That night, you let yourself slip into a crying spiral, tears falling uncontrollably, each one a reflection of the pain that had consumed you. You didn't know how long it lasted, but it felt like hours, your chest tight and raw. Eventually, exhaustion dragged you into a restless sleep, the emptiness settling around you.

A few weeks later, after trying to collect yourself and make sense of the pain, you sent one text.

you: i’ve taken my thing out of your house in Monaco. i’m breaking up with you.

You stared at the message for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the send button, as though giving yourself a moment to breathe before the finality of it.

With a shaky exhale, you pressed send. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had built up, everything that had been left unsaid. The knot in your chest didn’t loosen. It didn’t change anything. But it was done. And as you stared at the screen, the absence of a reply was just another confirmation that it was over.

[bunni0nbanhg]

|Ink| 02

Tattoo artist!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre(s): Strangers to lovers, One night stand, Unexpected relationship

Smut Warnings: Intoxication, unprotected sex, Soft!Dom Chan, Switch!Reader, Degrading, Creampies, Breeding kink

Synopsis: You needed to get a tattoo covered up, one you got for your ex. You’re in a new city and go to the closest tattoo parlor by your apartment. The main tattoo artist and owner just so happens to live across the hall from you. Drunken actions turn into a spiral of emotions and your first healthy relationship.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Part 3- ࿐ྂ

The tattoo was healed relatively quick, as quick as most tattoos.

Chan kept his promise to see you too, a few days after the tattoo you hear a knock at your door.

It’s not too late, around half an hour his shop closes. You know this because it’s written on the card Felix handed you before you left.

“Who knew I could charm someone enough to make them want to see me so soon.”

The older laughed in response, shaking his head as he held up a plastic bag with snacks inside. “What can I say, drunk girls who look like they’re about to throw up are my type.”

It was your turn to laugh, tongue pressed to the inside of your cheek out of mock annoyance.

You stepped aside to let him walk in, watching as he kicked off his shoes next to yours already there.

He was wearing another one of his black tank tops, maybe he knew to wear it, saw when it caught your eyes during the session.

“K, show me the wrist.” He turned around as soon as his shoes were off, effectively pulling you away from your trance or staring mindlessly at his back.

“Oh? Really going to use that excuse for real?” Chan grinned in response, tilting his head to the side while taking a careful step forward.

“What else am I here for?”

He turned back around before you could answer, taking your flushed face as a good enough response and deciding to change topics.

“I brought beer too, where’s your fridge?” He held up the bag again to enunciate his question and you nodded before showing him the way to your kitchen.

It wasn’t like he needed you to show him, your apartments had the same layout, but it was the polite thing to do. You didn't care for beer so much, it was bitter and sometimes tastes too much like wheat, especially if cheap. It did the job though, and gets less bad through out the night longer you drink it.

After he put the beverage into your fridge and took out the snacks from the bag he turned back to you again. He bought some salty and sweet stuff, what caught your eye was a chocolate bar, your favorite brand of chocolate.

"I know what I'm calling dibs on." You grinned, snatching the sweet treat from the counter as he tried to grab it before you. You raised an eyebrow as his arm drops with a dramatic pout. "That's my favorite."

He mockingly whined and went to grab it again, but you hid it behind your back. "And I called dibs!" Your voice wavered as he continued trying to get the candy. Even going as far as to try and reach behind you, stopping you from stepping away by wrapping his other arm around your lower back.

It made you nervously laugh, trying to shift your shoulders and wiggle free from his surprisingly firm grip. When seeing no way out, you made a fake hissing sound.

His arms pulled back in a flash and concern immediately filled his eyes. It made you feel guilty for a moment as his eyes darted to your wrist. "Did I squeeze it?" He asked while obviously gesturing to your healing tattoo.

You grinned in response, making him immediately groan in annoyance at being fooled, but also sighing in relief. "You're sly." He shook his head while pointing an accusatory finger.

He seemed to forget about the chocolate, or gave up and let you eat it in victory.

You two settled on a movie, not hungry enough for anything past snacks so dinner was out the way but you needed something to do to squash the lingering awkwardness when you're not too familiar with a person.

"Favorite movie genre." He started, watching you as you picked up your remote to scroll through the movie options. You hummed in though as if you didn't already know. "Depends on my mood, you?"

He copied your hum, leaning back until the back of his head lit the back of the couch. "Action Sci-fi. I love Marvel." You smiled in response, you enjoyed a superhero movie too.

"Favorite movie theater snack." You threw back at him, eyes darting to actually pay attention to what movie you wanted to watch.

"The classic, a big bucket of popcorn with extra butter."

Questions flew back and forth between you two, steering off topic of movies to things like dog breeds to hobbies. Conversation seemed to flow easier than you'd expect, and any awkwardness seemed to fade quickly.

The movie long forgotten and your first cans of beer already cracked open. "Why'd you move out here, just because?" He asked, taking a long swing after.

You looked down at the small opening in your can to drink out of, sloshing the liquid side to side. "Same reason I got the cover up."

His eyebrows raised a little with a thoughtful hum. "So it was a recent break up? I thought it was a while ago." You shook your head with a tightlipped smile, tracing the rim around the can with your index finger.

"I needed a fresh start, it was one of those relationships that should have ended months before it did. I have a habit of talking myself through tough things think it'd get better, but running as soon as I see something good happening for myself. Unintentional self-sabotage you could say."

Chan knew what that was like, to some extent. He'd convinced himself he wasn't worthy of certain things, ultimately ruining a lot of things in his life from overthinking.

"Those relationships suck. I've had my fair share of bad ones before, especially a few long ones."

You'd be lying if you said his words didn't pique your interest, curious to know more. "What was your longest one?"

His eyes flickered down to the bear can just as yours had done, biting down on the two lip rings pierced into his skin. "3 years.." His tone seems reluctant, but you're more surprised by the time he gave you.

"That's a... serious amount of time." You nodded with a little bit of shock obvious in your voice. "Can I ask why it ended or is that too personal?"

He laughed almost bitterly, quickly looking back up to you while resting his free arm over the top of the couch. "We were at different stages of our lives, and it wasn't something we properly discussed."

It was vague, but told a lot at the same time. Some relationships were just that, confusing but natural. Easy but stressful. It made your chest tighten with annoyance at how much you could relate.

"In short I wanted to settle down together and she still wanted to keep her options open."

You sucked in a sudden breath, shocked again. "That'll end a relationship." You nodded with a curt nod. He chuckled again, less bitter and more in amusement at your obvious words.

"Was your last one your longest?" He asked while taking another sip. You took one too before sighing deeply. "Yeah, a year, that's why I got the tattoo. Thought I'd be in it for the long run."

"Thought it was bad, so why stick around?" It didn't mean to sound judgmental, but Chan felt like it did and quickly added. "Was it just, easier?"

You hummed with a nod. "Part of it, yeah. It was mostly because I felt like I was losing out, running out of time. Wasn't the shittiest of past partners I've had, you could say I settled for less than I deserved and didn't realize until I was too far in."

Silence hung in the air as you took another large swig, looking up to see his expression, maybe try and guess what he was thinking despite not knowing much about him as a person and body language.

His eyes were directed at your black screen T.V, still nibbling on his bottom lip in thought. His eyes are darker than usual, but not out of annoyance. The soften when they lock with yours, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he put himself in.

"I'm guessing you're going to take a break from dating?" He cocked an eyebrow before immediately breaking eye contact with you again.

"I always say that but end up talking to someone again, I think I'm more in a... drifting with the current phase. Whatever I bump into and wants to stick around I'll see if it's worth it."

"But, if it's too good you'll peel them off you?" He guessed, making you sigh at how accurately he can read you. "It's not like I think I don't deserve something good, but you could say I psyche myself out. Get so attached it's scary, I don't like being needy to something that can easily be taken away."

Your fingers trailed up and down the side of your almost empty can, sipping the last of it back before setting it down on your coffee table and getting up from your couch. "Another?" You asked and he nodded.

You handed him the chilled can when sitting back down, simultaneously cracking it open. Yours foamed over a bit and you quickly had to slurp it up before dripping down your hand and arm.

"Have you moved on since your ex?" You asked to resume your conversation, and you got a sigh in return. "Yeah, mentally. Haven't really gone on a date or anything. The night we met was me trying to try my luck but nobody really stuck out to me."

That night was still foggy in your mind, you hope he hadn't seen you do any embarrassing faces or said anything uncomfortable. "What made you stop to help me?" You knew it was probably going to be some bullshit answer about how he just wanted to help, because that's how considerate he seems to annoyingly be.

He's a lot of things actually, stuff you've been able to gather through the back and forth questioning and this conversation alone. It's annoying how he's effortlessly able to keep the flow going, it feel natural to keep on talking. He seems thoughtful in a way that is entirely selfless, and mature enough to not need any parenting.

That's more than most of your exes can account for.

"You were the only one that caught my eye at that point into the night, well, in the night in general. Had no idea I'd get the honor of meeting you again so soon. Much less becoming your neighbor."

There's an obvious teasing tone to his voice and it makes you roll your eyes. He's able to make you want to throw a pillow at him and kiss him at the same time, a dangerous feeling for someone who's already becoming something more than just a neighbor.

"Wow, so flattered, so should I count this as both of our first dates since our shitty breakups?"

He laughs in response, jokingly raising his can to yours to softly clank them together. "Technically, but if I were to take you on a first date I would have hoped it'd be nicer than this."

"My apartment is very nice." You teased with a fake annoyed expression, Chan easily able to see past it with another laugh. "It is, but that's probably because you stuffed all you mess in your room probably."

Your foot gave his thigh an annoyed nudge, shaking your head before taking a long swig of your beer. "I'm not some kid that shoves their toys underneath their bed."

"Sureee." He drags out, jokingly acting like he wasn't convinced. Your eyes narrowed before grinning to match his. "I'd invite you to go check but I'm afraid you might get other ideas, and I'd hate to bump into my new tattoo."

He let out a dramatic scoff, face flushed at your implications, though if asked he'd blame it on the alcohol. "I have self control, might not seem like it with how eagerly I was to show up tonight but that's only because I had to check said tattoo."

You rolled your eyes again, him back at using your tattoo as the excuse to see you. "Guess I'll just have to invite you back when it's healed so we can stop using it was a get out of jail free card."

His eyes darted to you, surprised at how casually you practically invited him to "check your room out" with him. "Because, Y'know, gotta test to see if I put my bedframe together right."

He choked on the sip of beer he just took, topic seemingly escalating far more quicker than he anticipated. Sure, his goal was to flirt here and there, test the waters to see if you were open to something. After all, he was the one to cover your tattoo that was for an ex.

You grinned at being able to get a reaction out of him, also taking another sip. That is until he propped his head with his free hand and leaned a bit closer after recovering from initial shock at your smug look.

"A little bump or two to it won't harm it's healing process much, just gotta make sure your arm stay's above your head."

It was your turn to freeze, having thought you had the upper hand of teasing for a second. His head tilted to the side with a hint of mockery to the action, almost challenging you to say something back.

And you did, challenge him I mean, just not with words.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You'd have to apologize to your neighbors next to you, your headboard positioned on a wall connected to their apartment. The good thing however was that now you knew your bed frame was stable.

The buzzed feeling wasn't just in your head, and it wasn't there just because of the few cans of beer you two both downed. It was the adrenaline of doing something you knew probably shouldn't be done, I mean, come on, fucking your tattoo artist after just two days of knowing each other was crazy work.

What was worse than fucking your tattoo artist, someone you could avoid if shit hits the fan, is fucking your neighbor. Who knows how often you'd inevitably run into each other to take the same elevator or throw your trash in the dumpster on trash day at the same time.

The awkwardness of running into someone who've you've seen naked and know they've seen you naked is something hard to avoid no matter how hard you try to without talking about it.

You hope it wouldn't end up like that between you two; not when his tongue felt so good pressed against your own. It made you moan when feeling something cool hit the roof of your mouth when he lazily flicked the pink muscle up.

"How did I not see your tongue piercing until now?" You panted against his lips already beginning to look redder with how aggressively you two pulled on each other's bottom lips. You could feel the smirk growing on his lips as he pressed them back against yours.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you become well acquainted with it."

And that he did, right after sliding off your soaked underwear down your legs and throwing it somewhere on your floor. Your nightshirt and bra didn't last long after, Chan getting hungry to taste more of your skin.

You shivered as you felt the ball of his tongue piercing drag across your collarbone, it retracting as his lips sucked on your skin right under that part of your skeleton.

He groaned as your legs shifted, brushing against the hard on in his basketball shorts. "So desperate for me already." You practically purred with amusement, earning yourself a glare from the man above you. "Princess has a cocky mouth, doesn't she?"

"Only speaking facts baby. Maybe pretend to be a little less eager if you don't want me to call you out on it."

You knew you were a hypocrite, heat pooling at your core that ached for some sort of relief. Chan knew it to, knew it even before reaching a hand down to lazily drag through your folds, earning a surprised gasp from the sudden but appreciated friction.

He brought his two fingers up to suck on and grin back at you. "I'm the eager one?"

You huffed, going to reach a hand down to flick at his forehead when you were reminded of his free hand pinning them above your head. "Oh, forgot about that, did you Princess? I'm only making sure you don't bump your wrist on accident."

His hand held onto yours by lacing together with your fingers, making sure not to touch the plastic around your healing tattoo. Your tongue clicked in subtle but half-hearted annoyance, distracted as soon as his lips started pressing kisses down your exposed chest.

Your eyes glanced down to watch with bated breath, his hot breathing fanning over your skin as he continued going lower and lower. He paused at your lower stomach, making to presses multiple kisses around there while switching occasionally to both your hips and hip bones.

He trailed back up before giving you exactly what you wanted, saving your heat as an indulgence for afterwards.

"Gonna be a good girl and keep your hands up for a second?" He presses his lips to your ear, enunciating his question by squeezing your hands. An embarrassingly desperate whine fell past your lips, effected by the careful movement of his lips earlier down your torso.

"Such a good girl." You mumbled with a nod of your head, Chan satisfied with your promise as he momentarily let go. Your hands laid limp, making no attempt to move from their spot on the upper part of your mattress.

His hands left your body to quickly strip off his tank top, making drool pool in your mouth like wetness did in your cunt. What really made you moan was seeing the entirety of his tattoo when he twisted to throw his tank top in the same pile of your clothes.

He looked back at you with a grin, biting his lower lip to suppress a laugh. No matter how many people complimented or flirted with him based on his body alone never made it any less flustering when someone who's opinion he truly cared about also complimented it.

Next was his shorts, the bulge already noticeable despite the loose material. What you didn’t expect us to see an Ampallang piercing right as his hard length was freed from his boxers.

“How did your ex not lock you down?” You groaned, hips shifting to adjust as you felt your wetness almost trickle down your inner thigh. Chan this time really laughed, throwing his head back with a hand to his chest.

He bent down soon after getting himself to stop laughing, a pleased smile still stretched across his lips as he leaned closer to your downstairs ones. “You gonna make the same mistake?” He hummed before pressing a light kiss on your upper inner thigh.

The action was more affectionate than anything, a total contrast to how he later becomes aggressive with his tongue pressed to your clit.

The barbell of his piercing provided an extra stimulation you didn’t know you needed until now, especially with his mouth was doing an amazing job by itself.

You had to stifle most of your moans with the back of your hand, still being mindful of your neighbors who could not even be home at the moment for all you know.

“What’d I say about your hands?” Chan asked, lips departing from your puffy clit that pulsed with want and need from the sudden lack of touch. You whined in slight annoyance and desperation but moved your hand to rest next to your other wrist.

“Don’t want to be deprived of those pretty little moans.” He grunted before diving back in to seemingly swallow you up whole.

The sound of your panting, little ah’s and whines every time he pressed practically good against your clit sent heat straight down to his dick that already ached painfully so. He’d hold out though, wanting to taste your release on his tongue before anything else.

The knot in your lower stomach tightened as you felt yourself nearing your end, breath hitching. Chan immediately began speeding up, hands gripping your thighs to stop them as the threatened to close.

“Close princess?” He grinned, pressing sloppy kiss through your folds as you moans in response. “Is that all it takes to make you cum? That desperate for a man you just met?”

Your eyes widened as you felt yourself clench around nothing, his tongue immediately sliding in with a quiet almost nonexistent groan falling from his lips. You tasted better than he could ever imagine.

“Fuck, more of that.” You mumbled with a shaky breath, hands lacing together as your fingers twitched to grab onto something. He chuckled against you, eyes trained on the feast he was devouring.

He knew what you meant, and he’d make sure to give you all of the demeaning words and insults he can when fucking it into you, for now he just needs to coax this first orgasm out of you and onto his tongue.

He made sure to flick his tongue up, pressing the medal if his piercings on the roof of you gummy walls. “Shit!” You gasped, stomach tightening.

Chan groaned again, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he pressed himself closer, your legs resting over his shoulders. You would have worried about if he was able to breath or not if it wasn’t for him grunting and groaning with every movement he made with his tongue.

And then it hit you, a flash flood wave as the knot in your stomach snapped and heat spread throughout your cunt. “Chan!” You gasped, hips bucking up before you could control them.

He moaned against your folds with pride, not tearing away until you were shaking and trembling and he was able to drink up all of you.

“Such a good girl, took it so well.” He instantly praised, propping himself up to lean his face into your neck.

He pressed sloppy kisses to your skin before wiping your release from his mouth to kiss you. “Think you can handle being in top?”

You nodded pathetically into the kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He’d have to make sure to do that again, maybe even wake you up by burying his tongue deep inside you, only if it was something you gave him permission to.

“Hands don’t leave my chest.” He grunted before flipping you two over, easily maneuvering you to straddle his lap.

You shuddered as you felt yourself pressed against his cock, eyes staring back down at the surprise piercing through his tip.

He hummed while watching you gaze hungrily, hands back to rest in your hips before gathering your hands to pull you forward slightly and rest them on his chest.

“Right here.” He enunciated with a tap to your knuckle, making you nod again. “Can’t even talk? Too needy for me to fill you up? Such a desperate girl.” He clicked his tongue as you moaned in response.

Sure you’ve been domed before, possibly the only good reason you stayed with a few exes in your past, but the mix between praise and undeniable affection with degrading words did something to stir need in your chest and pussy.

“You should be prepped enough from my tongue, or are you about to ask me for your fingers too?”

You but your bottom lip in thought, already knowing your answer as you shook your head.

His fingers tapped against your thighs before squeezing the flesh there. “Words slut.”

You shuddered before letting out a moan. “I’m ready.”

He hummed in seemingly approval before lifting you up by the bottom of the ass, making you look back as he moved his tip to align with you.

Gathering some of your wetness by smearing precum into your folds, he finally lowered you to sink down onto him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to just flip you back over and ram into you, but he was able to stay still to let yourself adjust.

You weren’t doing much better yourself, feeling like you could feel him and his piercing in your guts. It was a feeling of being full nonetheless and it made you even more needy.

“What, can’t handle me” he moved one of his hands to grab onto your chin and make sure your gaze locked with his. “Need to pull out?”

You whined instantly in protest, grinding down harder to prove your point. “Don’t you dare.” You gasped as he let out a chuckle.

“Might get the wrong idea if I don’t see you drooling for me to move.” He teased right before you raised your hips up to slam back down.

His own moan cut off any words he wanted to add, making you grin. “Baby can’t believe that a pussy can feel this good.” You mockingly cooed, Chan grunting in response to your tease.

“I had you falling apart on my tongue.”

“Well let’s hope your dick can achieve the same goal.”

Chan decided he liked it better when you were on your back. You gasped as he flipped you toe over again, able to not have to disconnect himself.

“What’s that? Princess gone quiet?”

You shivered as he slowly dragged himself out maybe only half a centimeter, making a point for you to feel the silver barbell rub against your walls.

You moaned as he pressed back in, pulling out a bit more with every thrust until he was setting a pace. “Not so quiet now.” He groaned, eyes trained as he watched himself disappear into you over and over again.

Your hands still laid over your head, one of his hands laced back together with them again.

It was intoxicating, making your mind foggy with bliss. How long had it been since you got a good fuck? Along with the insanity inducing head he gave you; you weren't sure how this man could possibly still be single.

"Spacing out?" His breath hit's the shell of your ear, earning a whine in response. His chest pressed down into yours with his hands between your bodies to grip harshly at your hips and keep them in place. Your head would be smashed into the headboard if he didn't hold you down against his thrusts.

"Can't believe I already got my princess dumb on my cock. What was it you said? Let's see if your dick can do the same? Tell me, is it?"

Your breath hitched as he arms looped underneath your lower back, making your back arch off the bed and he continued ramming into you. Your hands, now free, carded into his hair.

He groaned at the faint burn of his hair getting pulled, same cocky grin on his lips. It made you want to make them red all over again, bite and swap spit like you had done desperately as soon as he pressed you into your mattress.

"Please, please-! Don't stop, don't slow down!" You moaned, knowing your face was flushed impossibly red and eyes glossed over in a haze of bliss and need. "That's not a yes or no." He hummed, moving one of his hands to hike up your thigh to wrap over his hip.

You yelped in response, overwhelmed with the change of position as he drilled at more of an upwards angle. "Yes! yes- just-" Your chest heaved, a shaky moan leaving your lips at the intense familiar feeling of your abdomen tightening.

Chan moaned back, eyes squeezing shut once he felt you clench around him. He knew what it meant, having felt it when his tongue was buried deep inside.

He felt his own impending release start to build up, sighing out. "Tell me, in or out?"

Your mouth dropped open, not quite registering his words fully when he was fucking into you like a god. "Princess, need to know." He urged, dropping the hand on your thigh to tap your cheek.

Your eyes snapped up to look at him as soon as you felt his finger touch the side of your face, still panting with every moan he was able to coax out of you. "In."

Chan could feel his eyes almost roll back, that was the response he was secretly hoping for. Just the idea of getting to see his seed spill out of you when he pulled out. Maybe he'd be able to push it back in with his fingers and fuck more of it into you, if you'd allow him.

There's a lot of stuff he'd gladly do to you if you gave him the ok, and just the image of your cunt, dripping and creaming from your mix releases made him almost cum on the spot.

That mixed with how tightly you were clenching around him, mind and body both wanting to milk him for every single drop he could give you. You hadn't realized how hot it made you feel to know someone was about to cum in you before Chan, maybe it had more to do with the person than the action.

"Really? Eager to carry my kids?"

Like a switch in your mind, your eyes screw shut and something akin to the loudest moan in existence left you, along with the knot in your stomach undoing for the second time that night.

Chan wasn't far after you, breath hitching as you gushed around his length with no warning.

That wasn't a problem for him, never. He gladly fucked into you needily, knowing he looked like a desperate puppy as his hips snapped against yours quickly.

You could have cum again from just the feeling of his seed shooting into you. Hot ropes of cum stuck to your walls, kissing your cervix along with his tip. You best believe Chan had to capture your lips in a kiss if he didn't want to scream like you did.

The bedframe was able to handle more than you could imagine, maybe Ikea furniture wasn't so bad.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Taglist: @sarastayy @estella-novella @danceonmyheyday @iweirdthingsblog

[t44ovely]

Screwed up - Jude bellingham

Description: Jude bellingbam x reader, were Jude screw ups a little, but reader has her tricks. (Very short)

Tw: none that i could name?

A/n: Hi im a new writer and this is my first write so please be kind, if theres ideas or maybe even advices tell me please im open minded! Enjoy reading, sending hugs and love. ❣️ps. Im not english so there might be some spelling errors…sorry.

You’re sitting in a small bar only a few people, bartender and then you. You’ve been waiting there for a good ten minutes for him to show up, your boyfriend, Jude bellingham. Your new couple, been dating just good few months so nothing too serious.

”Can i offer you something while your waiting pretty lady?” The bartender asks getting you out of your thoughts. ”Ohh, maybe margarita.” You say with a little smile on your lips. He nods and goes to make your margarita.

You sit there for few good minutes before the margarita is set in front of you, ”heres your drink lady, no hurry in paying” he gives you a sympatic smile and goes leaving you there. Alone because judes late, you just hoping he will even remember this date happening today.

You take a sip of your drink, thinking that maybe his phone died and hes stuck at traffic, even tho clock is nearly 10pm.

You took another sip after few minutes and check if he would have message you, still nothing.

Its now 10.28pm, hes almost hour late, no text, no call, nothing. You start to get little worried if something has happend, but then you hear the door bell of the bar, you look over your shoulder and there he is.

You get up of your barchair and stand up strait, looking at him, the handsome face, he has little smile on his face, looking you up and down. ”Im so sorry y/n, so so sorry and i-i don’t know how to make this up to you and oh god you even look amazing ” he says looking at the floor, you take a few steps closer to him, now you looking at the floor too, ”well i guess im sorry too cause now you have to take me to maledivies, cause you DEFINITELY screw up a little” taking your eyes up of the floor.

”Lets make a promise” you say looking at Jude while your sitting next to each others in his couch, he moves to look at you ”ohh really, what promise are we gon make my love” he puts that smirk of his on his face looking back at the tv.

”If you screw up NO matter what it is you take me to somewhere nice and same if i screw up i have to take you where ever you want, deal?” You look at him with proud smile on your face.

”I will anyways take you anywhere you want you know that?” Now facing back at you. ”Yeah i know, but can we still make a deal?” You looking him with puppy eyes, he looks at you with same kind of face and takes his little finger ready for pinky promise.

”Pinky promise” Jude says.

”Pinky promise” you say.

He takes his eyes of the floor to look at you, meeting that pretty smile of yours that he loves.

”God you almost make me have a hearattack” he says taking you to his arms, giving you a big hug. ”Glad just almost, otherwise i wouldn’t be going to maledives soon” you laugh at his chest.

”You’re annoiyng you know that?” Jude says loosing up a little looking down at you, you look up to him ”yeah i know, but at least i don’t have to pay my trip by myself” you look him with proud smile and letting yourself out his grip going back where you were before he shoud up.

”Now you can tell me why’re you late Mr. Bellingham” you say while sitting back, he sits next to you ”well lemme tell you why Mr. Bellingham is late to you Mrs. Bellingham” he says smirking.

[maxillness]

╰┈➤ Christmas Gift || MS7 x Mick’s bsf!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, age gap (20s/50s), (slight) alcohol consumption, breeding kink, praise kink, oral (f), fingering, chocking, Michael gets called ‘old man’ too many times to count

Wordcount: 1.3k

She felt bad for crashing their Christmas, but Mick had promised that it would be fine

It was a sudden decision, on the 23rd, she had called Mick, telling him about how her mother had decided to go with her new boyfriend to Christmas with his family, leaving her home alone

That’s when Mick said that she should join him and his family in Switzerland for their Christmas

She showed up with no gifts, feeling bad about it, but they had all promised that it was fine and really no bother

She had really enjoyed her time on the 24th, loving to experience the vast difference between her family traditions and the Schumacher’s

Late on the 24th, around midnight, when all the gifts were opened and both Mick, Gina and her husband were gone to bed

She sat on the couch in front of the fire, an almost empty glass of red wine in her hands. She wasn’t even close to tired, too worried she might’ve crashed the holiday

She felt the dip of the couch beside her. She took a quick glance at Michael before she looked back at the fire

“You didn’t crash the holiday” He said softly

“I know, I just can’t shake the feeling that I did” She sighed softly, taking a short sip of the wine

“I feel bad that I didn’t get you a gift” He sighed, leaning back into the couch

“You feel bad? I’m the guest, I should bring you a gift” She chuckled softly, finishing her wine, the empty glass in her hands

“I want to give you one” “You don’t have to, Michael” She said as she looked at him

“Allow me to give you one anyways?” His eyes were almost begging, making him look even more attractive than before

She nodded softly, making him lean closer, her breath hitching slightly

Before she could react, his lips were pressed against hers

She softly dropped the glass onto the carpet when the kiss got more heated, her hands now free to cup Michael’s face, holding his jaw softly

She broke the kiss, making him whine softly, but was replaced with a soft moan when she got into his lap, kissing him again

“We should… head to… the bedroom” Micheal panted between kisses, his hands splayed on the underside of her thighs

“If you get up, old man” She teased, standing up from the couch, holding her hands out to help him up

He groaned softly as he got up “Old man” She chuckled

“I’ll show you old” He growled slightly, kissing her tenderly, backing her up and towards the hallway

Her arms wrapped around his neck while his hands were softly placed under her shirt, her skin soft against his palms

“Quiet” Michael whisper against her lips as she giggled down the hallway when he accidentally tickled her sides

“Then stop tickling me” She whispered, kissing him again

“It was an accident” He whispered with a soft smile, softly pushing her into his room, locking the door after him

“If you say so” She chuckled softly, pulling her shirt over her head, throwing it to the floor

“You have to be quiet, Schatz” He mumbled, his eyes fixated on her bra covered breasts “Mick’s room’s just beside mine” His lips trailed down her neck towards her chest, his hands on her waist

“I know, Michael” She chuckled, her hands working on getting his shirt off, throwing it with her own “I’ve been here before”

“I’m just reminding you” He smirked against the skin of her chest, his hands working on her pants, trying to get them off

“It’s your memory that’s bad, not mine… Old man” She yelped softly when he pushed her onto the bed

“When I’m done with you, you definitely won’t be calling me old” His words made her whimper softly “Back up, baby”

She backed up on the bed, making space for Michael to get on the bed, his hands pulling down her jeans and panties, his lips trailing down the insides of her thighs, quiet whimpers falling from her lips

His fingers ghosted on her shoulders when he pulled the straps of her bra down “Off” He mumbled against the skin of her stomach where he placed kisses

She sat up, unclasping her bra before throwing it to the floor and laying back onto the bed

“Good girl” He murmured softly, a whimper leaving her lips, her body flushing red “You like that? Getting called a good girl?” He smirked softly

“Shut u-“ Her hand threw over her mouth to muffle a moan when his tongue drew through her folds, her other hand tugging softly at his hair

“Told you to be quiet, Schatz” He smirked softly before he drove back in before she could get to answer

She tugged at his hair harder, making him groaned against her, making her hips stutter and grind against his tongue, the pleasure so intense she had a hard time keeping quiet

Her body jerked slightly as she felt him push two of his fingers into her, slowly move them in and out of her

The last straw was when he curled his fingers up, making her bite the side of her hand as she came, her body shaking, her walls clenching around his finger rapidly, her thighs closing around his head, almost suffocating him

He sat back up on his knees between her legs, watching as she panted heavily, the back of his hand wiping his mouth

“You okay, Schatz?” He asked, softly kissing the spot on her hand where she had bit down, having left marks

“‘M fine” She nodded softly, her eyes softly closed “Off” She said, barely above a whisper as she tucked at his jeans’ belt loops

“Not giving yourself a break?” He chuckled softly, beginning to unbuckle his belt and shove down his jeans and briefs

“Just shut up and fuck me” She panted, pulling him down to kiss him messily “If you can, old man”

“I definitely need to find out if you’re always this mean when you’re needy” He groaned quietly as he slowly pushed inside her

After a few slow thrusts, getting her used to him before he sat a slight faster pace while he wrapped his hand around her throat

“Look at you” He chuckled quietly “Pathetic little you. Getting left alone at Christmas by your mother, and now getting fucked unprotected by your best friends father”

Her whole body blushed deeper, her arm covering her face while her other hand wrapped around the wrist of his now seemingly larger hand now that it’s wrapped around her throat

“You like that idea? Getting knocked up by your best friend’s father?” He leaned down to whisper in her ear “Bet you’d look fucking good pregnant with my kids” His voice slightly husky

Michael’s hand around her throat prevented her from major head movements, but she managed a slight nod and a positive quiet sound

“Please, Michael” She whimpered softly, feeling him starting to twitch inside her as her walls clenched down around him, making him groan quietly

She moved her hands to claw at his back, leaving red marks all over him as she tried to hold onto him

“Fuck- please, Michael- I’m gonna-“ She didn’t get to finish her warning before one of her hands clamped over her mouth as she came, clenching rapidly around him as her body shook slightly

“I should go back to my room before Mick wakes up tomorrow” She sighed, her head laying on Michael’s chest while he played softly with her hair

“It’s technically today, and Mick usually sleeps in on the 25th” He sighed, his arm around her waist keeping her close to himself

“Fine… Whatever you say, old man” She chuckled quietly, making him swat at her waist softly

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 4

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: I can't stop. Oops. If you want to be on the tag list, drop a comment to let me know <3 Also, I feel the need to warn you that CoD fic is what got me into Omegaverse and this is the first time I've written it lol

Thirteen hours.

It took thirteen hours for the paperwork to be filled out and processed. They'd dragged Simon off immediately to fill out the paperwork and I was "escourted" (dragged) to my space to wait.

The last thirteen hours have been spent with staff members pampering me. Bathing me, doing my hair and makeup, dressing me in clothes that aren't Salvation's omega dresscode - all of it. There was even something of a literal photoshoot?

I don't know why they needed photos of me, but I always knew these people were weird.

However, all of that lead to me being prettily posed in the room they keep omegas in while they wait for their new alphas to arrive. Specifically at 10:30 pm. I almost want to shoot Simon for the insistence of immediate pick-up.

Could be asleep by now.

A knock at the door pulls me from my whirlwind of thoughts and I sit up straighter, putting on my best "submissive omega" impression for whoever enters.

"UK-009-0013? Your alpha has arrived," an employee calls from the other side of the door.

I stand quickly and tug gently at the way-too-big black skull tshirt that they ended up putting me in at some point.

"Come in."

The door creaks open and reveals Jenny - who looks way too happy - and Simon.

"There she is, sir. In the clothes you dropped off, as you requested," Jenny says a bit too proudly.

"I can see that."

I have to suppress my laugh at the look of hurt on Jenny's face at Simon's lack of praise. Instead, I continue my "submissive omega" act and begin fidgeting with the edge of the tshirt while looking up at Simon through my lashes. The more smitten I appear the better.

"Simon," I call to him softly, meekly.

He wastes no time crossing the room and scooping me into his arms at the sound of my voice. My arms wrap tightly around him and I grab fistfuls of the back of his hoodie.

"Anyway you can tone that shit down a bit?" he whispers into my ear, voice a bit strained.

"Not if you want any chance of getting me out of here without roadblocks," I whisper back with my face burried against his neck. "Don't make it weird."

I'm acting, to him, like I'm unphased by having an alpha but the seemingly-dormant omega portion of my brain seems to be waking up. She's still drowsy and unsure what's happening, but with my face shoved against his neck...

I can smell him.

I've never been this close, physically, to any alpha before. The fact that doing so is triggering the omega part of my brain is royally pissing me off. Thankfully, Simon loosens his grip on me and steps back. One of his hands drops to mine, his fingers lacing through mine.

"Everything is settled. Correct?" Simon addresses Jenny agan as he turns. "I'd like to take my future mate home now."

My cheeks warm slightly at the comment and the implications, but I remind myself that it's part of the act to get me (and hopefully other omegas) out of Salvation's grasp.

"Of course! Everything is settled and you're both free to go." Jenny's smile is unsettling, as per usual, but so is her choice in wording. It's clear from the way Simon's grip tightens around my hand that he also finds it strange. However, as promised, we are allowed to leave with no problems.

As soon as we're out of view of the property, I feel my entire body relax. My muscles ache from being tense for so long - literal years - and I'm tearing up out of relief.

Bless Simon, though. If he noticed my change in demeanor, he didn't comment or react.

"Are these... your clothes?" I ask once I manage to force the tears back.

He stays quiet for so long I start to think he didn't even hear me.

"Would it bother you if I said yes?"

Not... the response I was expecting, but alright.

"Not really, no. It'd be expected. Giving me things with your scent and all that." I toy with the strings on the sweatpants. They're long and hang low from how tightly I had to tie them to get the pants to stay up.

"This, whatever it is, doesn't have to be like that." His voice is gentle, unlike what it has been 99% of the time. Even when we were playing our parts to get me out of there there was a mostly gruff, gravely tone to his voice. I glance at him, confused as all hell, but his eyes are trained on the road.

"Didn't you go to Salvation to find an omega? A mate?"

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs, eyes forward still. "But there are more important things in the world than finding a mate and reproducing for the sake of having a mate and reproducing. Like rights and safety. Especially that of omegas."

The omega in my mind seems sad at his offer and point of view of our situation, but I couldn't be happier. Salvation is not what it implies and I knew I would never get out of there or be able to help my fellow omegas while stuck in their grasp.

An alpha who seems to actually care about the wellbeing of others. Even if he is a bit... odd.

Things could be worse. A lot worse.

Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks

[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

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