#Austin Sour

[digiindie]

Austin Sour - Not Even Famous

[racymacyxx]

First singles haul since I've been in Austin. 5/6 Texas beers. Felt like I had to do the Pickle one haha. Obviously, I'm still loving Blue Owl.

[liviesicons]

• grammy week celebration, outtakes & last month

— like or reblog if you save 🦋

[lymansims]

happy infant update everyone!!!

have some baby content of Austin, Landon, and Amy :)

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

[freelancearsonist]

the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak. // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid. 

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

➔ beta: @futuraa-free (thank u honey i love u)

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[daddyhausen]

commision for — @the-anxious-youth

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• shut your mouth before i fuck it — rhea ripley •

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{ masterlists } | { wwe masterlist } | { rhea ripley masterlist }

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{ summary } — a house party for liv’s birthday turns sour for rhea upon catching you getting a bit to comfortable with the birthday girl. she reminds you exactly who you belong to.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, wlw, oral sex, scissoring, strap-on, markings, hickeys, groping, public teasing, hair pulling, jealous sex, dominant x submissive dynamic, sub!reader, dom!rhea, mommy kink, brat taming, fingering, choking, forced orgasms, vaginal sex ,rough sex, penetrative sex, female orgasm, multiple orgasms, squirting

{ word count } — 4.2k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x rhea ripley

{ genre } — smut

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{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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the air was thick, a mix, a stench more like it of alcohol and tobacco flooded rhea’s nostrils, a cloud of smoke fluttered  across her cheeks from an unknown and quite frankly intoxicated party goer, reeking of cheap whiskey and menthol, the scents alone caused no harm, but the combination of the almost vinegary scent of the cheap drink along with the pungent, and quite frankly overpowering mintiness of the menthol made her eyes water, desperately trying to suppress herself from dry-heaving. god, why does liv need to go above and beyond with her parties? they’d become meaningless in rhea’s eyes, just another year closer to death she always says, why would you feel the need to celebrate something so morbid?

rhea let her eyes tiredly scan liv’s kitchen, the room looked more like a barren wasteland than a place she could drunkenly cook breakfast in the morning, empty bottles and cups strewn across the floor, vodka spilling out from the closest one beside her feet as she tried her best to not ruin her shoes with the substance. a pizza box with the contents half eaten inside, an inebriated couple doing what she could assume was making out behind the counter, although she did not witness much kissing in the second she had made eye contact, more like clashing teeth and absentminded face sucking it seemed. 

her ears began to ring from the sheer loudness of the music, it wasn’t an exhilarating ring you’d like the one you’d get during a concert, but more of a banshees shrill directly into her eardrums. she turned the corner into the living room, to find it more populated by inhabitants of the party, rhea was certain that she did not even recognise or know about ninety percent of the partygoers, maybe a handful at most, liv’s house almost about to burst at the seams from the amount of drunken bodies squished so tightly into one room. 

she met the eyes of a partially drunk dominik, the youngest of her quartet slumped against the wall furthest from the crowd, eyes sunken with a drunken stupor, slowly batting in and out of sleep. a sober and steadier damian priest keeping a watchful eye over the judgment day’s protégé. rhea made her way towards them, keeping her side firmly pressed against the wall so as to not get lost in the crowd of intoxicated bodies.

damian met her gaze with a soft nod in acknowledgment, opting to stay silent rather than strain his voice with screaming over the blare of music and chatter. he motioned for dominik to do the the same, offering a light tap to the back of the boy’s head in encouragement and more to rouse him out of his intoxicated state. dominik stared up at rhea, eyes glassed over and bloodshot with inebriation, his head craned forward slightly with a small nod before slumping back against the wall.

“have you seen y/n anywhere?” she questioned through a yell, despite having leaned into priest’s ear. the tallest of the three, furrowed his brows at the question, almost trying to comprehend the words that had just left rhea’s lips. 

“wasn’t she with you?” damien queried, the deep rumble of his voice seemed to match the bass of the music 

“wasn’t she in the kitchen with liv?” dominik slurred, trying to stand before damian shoved him back down by the shoulder, a silent warning to keep still until he sobered up.

“i was just in the kitchen.” rhea retorted, her accent becoming more predominant and thick the more her anger and impatience swelled within her. 

“what are we talking about?” an all too eager finn balor chimed in, that irish charm rang thick in his accent. hands full with whiskey, handing one to each member aside dominik, who gave a sour scowl, clearly not amused at the way he’s been cut off from the drink. damian, annoyed with having to play chaperone to the youngest, rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction.

“do you know where y/n is?” rhea responded with a dull, annoyed tone in her voice. “i’ve been looking for her for the past ten minutes”

“wasn’t she with you?” finn quipped with a puzzled expression. 

“no.” rhea fumed, impatience burning inside her veins. 

the irishman pondered in thought for a moment, pressing his shoulder into the wall as a group of stumbling drunks passed him by. rhea grew anxious at the prospect of her love being lost in a crowd of drink-fueled idiots, though her exterior remained cold and stubborn. 

“out with it!-“ the sheer magnitude of rhea’s voice was enough to bring dominik out of his drunken stupor for a moment, the youngest butting the back of his head against the wall he’d been resting it on. a groan of pain followed, priest’s usually calloused demeanor broken for a second as he tried to stifle his giggles at poor dominik’s pain.

“alright, alright. don’t get your fucking panties in a twist, jesus.” finn resumed his train of thought, practially unfazed by rhea’s impatient mutterings.

“oh yeah, i remember now.” finn clicked his fingers all too chipperly upon his remembrance. “last i saw out in the yard with liv. by the pool i think.”

“thank you” rhea remarked, downing the drink before handing, well rather tossing the cup back at finn, who, along with priest and dominik stood perplexed. watching her squeeze through the sea of bodies.

“what’s her problem?” dominik questioned wearily, finally coming out of his beer and whiskey fueled haze.

“i’d rather not find out…” damian sighed, eyeing the now empty bottom of his drink.

finn gave a small sigh in contemplation, effectively choosing to ignore rhea’s attitude for the time being

“well, i don’t know about you lads but i’m getting me another drink” 

-

rhea kept silent, shoving her way through the plethora of bodies, offering those who dared to question her motives a piercing glare. the glass sliding door glimmering with fairy lights strung loosely over the top frame, whatever she could make of the outside reminded her of an oasis. she could make out your figure through the smoke haze of the fog machine, she’d recognise your figure anywhere. she reached the door, peering out into the dead of night, the only light was from the living room, projecting out into the crystal blue of the pool. 

there you sat at the edge of the pool, feet lazily swishing the water. your body only shielded from the gaze of others with a tight black, micro bikini. rhea cocked her eyebrows at the ensemble, noticing that it was definitely not the outfit you’d worn when arriving. the faith you’d put in that piece of cloth was astronomical. your breasts barely covered, bar your nipples, so full and round, the string keeping the piece together was holding on by a literal thread. her eyes traveled down reaching the axis of your hip, having to squint her eyes to even make out the matching thong. your perky ass in full view and on display for all onlookers to see. 

rhea envisioned a scenario in her mind. the ensemble would burst at the seams, falling off your body like nothing more than a feather. your full breasts spilling out of the fabric, bouncing with their movements, so supple and soft. your pretty cunt bare and exposed, ready to accept punishment from her tongue and fingers. the buildup of wetness and arousal between rhea’s thighs just from the sight alone was almost too much to ignore, just to hear your sweet moans and pleas as she devoured your sweet pussy in front of everyone would definitely be a sight to behold. it was the perfect excuse and rhea needed the fresh air anyway.

the aroused trance faded for a moment as she came to. rhea gazed further into the night, further into you. another figure swam idly t your feet. the birthday girl had emerged from the watery depths, resting her head upon your thigh. liv’s eyes stared lustfully into yours, her lips eerily close to your clothed cunt, rhea observed the way you squirmed slightly whenever liv seemed to mutter out a sentence. your hand nestled in the blonde’s hair, massaging lightly, a playful glimmer in your eyes. 

despite the shine of blue from the pool, rhea saw red. you were too sweet and naive to notice but rhea clearly understood liv’s lustful intentions, despite the two of you being friends. rhea kept her demeanor calm for the most part, trying to quell her anger whilst it boiled deep inside her chest. she stormed outside, almost certain she’d ripped the door clean off its hinges. she made a beeline for you, paying no mind to the birthday girl, she grabbed your wrist as you hastily tried to wrap a towel around your lower half and retrieve your clothing.

“rhea, what are you?-“

“we’re leaving.” rhea remarked bluntly, dragging you away.

“i’ll talk to you tomorrow liv!” you shouted through the middle of music and crowd noise, leaving the poor blonde alone in the pool. 

rhea dragged you around to the side entrance, she did not want anymore unwanted eyes on the body she’d rightfully claimed as her own to stare at. 

“hey! where are we going!?” you retaliated, trying to pry your arm from your girlfriend's grasp. she remained silent, a scowl permanent on her lips. 

you’d made it to the car with much defiance on your part. she opened the door, practically throwing you in the passenger seat with a disgruntled groan. quickly taking her position in the driver's seat.

“what the fuck is your problem?!” you seethed at the fiery aussie, who merely stared dead at the road, knuckles gripped tightly, flushed bone white  against the leather of the steering wheel.

“hello?!-“

“why you gotta dress like a little whore around liv? you know she’s got the hots for you, princess” 

“is that really your problem,” you scoffed  “liv is just a friend and i can dress however i want it’s my body”

rhea’s hand released from the steering wheel, sneaking under the towel to tightly grip your exposed, still damp thigh. her strength alone sent a shiver down your spine and a thump of arousal straight to your core.

“princess…” she began. her eyes never leaving the road but her fingers creeping up to the string of the thong, toying with it between her fingertips

“i know your body better than anyone. i know how you feel, the way you taste, the way you liked to be manhandled and fucked out. i know things that liv only wished she knew”

you rolled your eyes at rhea’s statement, pretending that her words had no effect on you, despite the blush burning hot against your cheeks. her fingers caressing the skin of your hip with featherlight touches.

“so..?” you remarked, trying not to stutter through your words. “you don’t own me”

rhea gave a half hearted chuckle at your words

“oh sweetheart, but i do” she began. “who puts that pretty cunt to sleep at night? who makes you gush like a waterfall? who leaves you begging and screaming for more. it certainly ain’t liv” 

a satisfied smirked crossed rheas lips, acting all proud as if she’s won the argument, if you’d even call it that, her fingers released the string with a tight snap against you skin, the feeling sent shockwaves to your core. rhea couldn’t help but let her eyes fall off the road for a moment, to your breasts again as she did by the pool, how they bounced and jiggled with every bump and dip in the road. if she weren’t driving right now she’d rip that microscopic piece of fabric right off your form.

“you’re so insufferable” you mumbled to yourself, loud enough for her to hear, folding your arms across your chest.

“you won’t be saying that when my head is buried between your thighs, sweetheart” 

-

the rest of the drive home was met with disgruntled silence from both of you. rhea pulled up into the driveway in silence. only a glance on her part that allowed you to exit the car. you did albeit meekly with some retaliation, only for her glare to harden. she followed you up the stairs, grinding her hips against yours as you reached the front door, her hands held a death grip on your waist as you shakily fiddled with the keys.

“hurry up princess, don’t keep mommy waiting now” 

you gulped thickly feeling her hands trail up your waist as you hastily unlocked the door. you entered, desperately trying to make a beeline for your bedroom but rhea held you back for a moment, kicking the door closed with the heel of her foot. 

“hold on a second.” she ordered. keeping you grounded in your position momentarily. her fingers twirled the corner of the towel haphazardly tucked into itself, keeping a shield between your body and hers. she ripped it from your form with haste, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud.

she inspected your body for a moment, letting her hands roam your form, squeezing and groping your supple flesh in her palms.

“such a pretty little get up” she remarked at the two-piece. her hands coming up to cup your breasts in her large palms, feeling your nipples harder under the still-damp fabric. 

“and why didn’t i get to see you in it first? why did you have to parade yourself in it for all those people to see, like a little whore?” rhea hummed against your skin, sucking and nipping the skin in the crook of your neck.

“i..” you mumbled through a moan as rhea’s hands grew more aggressive.

“c’mon, use your words like a big girl,” she teased, pinching your nipples through the fabric.

“i…i wanted to surprise you mommy…” you lied through your teeth. you just wanted the attention. rhea always gave you the utmost love and attention, but you wanted to experience it from strangers, feel their unknown eyes wandering your body, so hungry for a taste they’ll never get to try. you got off on it and you knew that secretly rhea did as well. 

“hmm, sure you did princess” her lips popped against your skin, a reddish mark left in their wake, one that would take days to heal. she snapped the strap of the bikini top against your skin, earning a harsh hiss on your part. 

“upstairs.” she commanded. following you close as you trudged up the stairs, arousal pooling between your thighs. she pushed you into the bed harshly, already positioning herself between your thighs. your fingers hooked into the string of your thong to pry them down for her before she swatted your hand away with a rough slap.

“keep ‘em on” 

you obeyed.

she licked a hot stripe against the fabric. the faint feeling of her tongue pressed against your covered clit had you shivering. she gave soft kisses to your core, tonguing the flesh around your clit, bypassing your sensitive pearl each time. you whined in frustration, wanting her to just devour your cunt.

“what?” she smirked. “you didn’t think i was gonna play nice with you after that stunt you pulled back there?”

you went pale at the thought. rhea was never ever liberal with her punishments.

“oh sweetheart. i’m gonna have so much fun with you” 

she undid the ties to the thong. the small bows at your hips fell with ease. her slender fingers prying at the fabric, your cunt slick with arousal, leaving a damp spot in the material. you heard her hum in contentment, her tongue jutting out past her bottom lip, the glimmer of her tongue piercing just barely visible under the dull moonlight bleeding from the small cracks in the blinds.

“so wet for me…” she remarked, although her voice lowered, a growl almost present in her words. she kneeled before you, hooking her arms underneath your knees. dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. she marveled at the sight between your thighs, your cunt drenched, dripping with sweetness and warmth, she smirked to herself, knowing that it was indeed her doing. 

with no warning she dived in, the cool sensation of her tongue piercing made you shiver as the metal made contact with your sensitive clit. she maintained eye contact throughout, those piercing blues staring directly into your soul as she devoured you. her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and nibbling at your swollen pearl. maybe you should flirt with liv more often if this were to be your punishment. 

your hand fell into her hair, tugging at the dyed, coal black roots, pushing her head down so her tongue could fuck you senseless. she smiled into your warmth at the action, opting to accentuate your pleasure. she pulled away from your warmth for a second to speak, her breath heavy and labored. 

“such a pretty girl, you love getting off on mommy’s tongue don’t you?” she cooed, keeping her lips close to your clit, peppering gentle, featherlight kisses to your outer walls each time you squirmed into yourself.

“yes mommy” you panted breathlessly, groping your breasts absentmindedly. she gave another soft smile, returning her head between your thighs, this time with the addition of two fingers, her middle and ring fingers. as she tongued your clit, slowly, making sure you could feel the metal of her piercing with each swirl, she added her fingers, beginning to spread your folds and fill your void with ease. 

she would not go easy on you, oh no. despite her trickery, leading you into a false sense of security before she absolutely wrecked you. her tongue flicked your clit in rapid succession, her fingers pumping and curling deep inside your cunt. she kept her eyes on you, how you’d squeeze and toy with your breasts, the flesh now free from the miniscule restraint of the bikini top, pierced nipples now on display. rhea’s free hand came up to tug on one of the piercings, twirling the black bar between her thumb and forefinger, adoring the way you squirmed and whined at the new sensation.

“thats it you dumb little girl, fuck yourself on my fingers for me”

rhea could taste how close you were, how your cunt throbbed around her fingers, how your swollen clit twitched with every movement of her tongue. her spit spread across your folds and inner thighs, sweetness forming a pool in the bedsheets below. you could not hold out much longer, the pleasure was far too much for you to handle. you tried your best to refrain, to stop the flood gates from opening, and you knew there would be consequences if you were to cum without her permission. 

“m-mommy-” you whimpered through choked moans, hips circling so your clit could receive more friction from her tongue. 

“yes, baby” she hummed into your clit. her words buzzed against your skin, leaving you numb in pleasure, afraid to spill over. you held out for a moment, trying to come to but your words would not leave your throat, seemingly trapped like concrete in your chest.

“you wanna cum don’t you?” she queried, the twang of her australian accent running thick as she moaned into you. you nodded, far too hastily for you own liking. you would have liked to hold out for a moment or two longer, just for the feeling of her tongue but you couldn’t wait much more.

“then cum. show me how much of a good, obedient girl you can be” 

you heeded her words, sweetness gushing like a fountain from between your thigh prompted by her. she smiled into you, drinking you in as if it were her first taste of heaven. and in heaven she was, she pried her fingers from your warmth, returning her hands under your thighs once more, dragging you closer so she could fuck you deeper with her tongue, 

she’d left your thighs shaking upon coming down from your high, breathless and sopping wet as you tried to regain yourself. she silently excused herself to the closet, leaving you to bask in your post-orgasm thoughts for a moment or two, staring up at the ceiling you noticed the small chips of paint beginning to flake and the thin cracks around the lighting fixture, something you hadn’t really picked up on before. not that it mattered. 

rhea soon returned, standing in front of you, her body bare, the only concealed parts of her skin were those covered in ink. her tattoos suited her frame so well, bringing character to an otherwise blank canvas. in her hand she held a harness and your favorite dildo. it was a simple, sleek design, black silicone with little purple hearts encased on the mold, roughly about eight inches in length and roughly five inches in girth. one that she had used on you many times beforehands. 

you watched on silently as she prepared herself, her body hovering over yours as she fastened the toy into the harness. her breath labored slightly as she teased your folds with the tip of the toy, pressing it rather harshly against your swollen clit, a whimpered breath left your lips at the action.

“you gonna be a good little whore for mommy?” she questioned, cocking her eyebrow playfully as she stared you down, jutting her hips forward, the tip of the dildo grinding against your entrance. you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure once again rising between your thighs as her hips guided the toy across your clit.

“uh ah, sweetheart” she slapped your cheek lightly, rousing your eyes open. 

“look at me” she demanded, taking you by the chin, forcing you to look up at her. she repeated her phrase. emphasizing each word that left her lips with a pause

“y-yes mommy…” you whimpered meekly, feeling her grip on your chin loosen. a smirk creeped upon her cheeks, sliding the toy deep inside without warning. a choked gasp left your throat, feeling the dildo fully succumbed inside your warmth, to the point where you could feel her warmth radiating through the thin harness.

“oh fuck, baby. look how well you take it” she forced your head to look down at yourself. how your cunt clenched around the thick toy, how it bobbed in and out of your warmth complemented by rhea’s thrusts. 

“god…if i had a cock i would breed this pathetic cunt day and night” rhea’s growls resonated in the surrounding silence, echoing in your ears with such devilish praise. her body hovered over yours, securing you against the mattress, her breasts bouncing with every thrust she gave. you angled your head up slightly, the tip of your tongue barely grazing against her perky nipples, the buds swollen and hard from the chill of the midnight air. 

rhea hissed in delight at the sensation, in response, her hips gave a rather hard thrusts, a whirlwind of moans fluttered from your lips. she let her head fall between the valley of your breasts, licking a hot stroke up your skin, sucking and nipping the area and the surrounding mounds of flesh, marking you up with lustful bruises, all in varying shades of purple and pink. she let her lips trail to your right nipple, kissing the sensitive, pierced flesh lightly before biting down on it, tugging the bar between her teeth, letting her tongue roll over your nipple, leaving a glossy wet trail in its wake.

“oh baby, you look so fucking good. you love getting dumbfucked don’t you, my sweetheart? there’s not a thought in that empty head of yours is there?”

her words mocking yet falling on deaf ears and very much so. there was nothing on your mind other than achieving orgasm. rhea fucked you so well that it made you legs weak, your mind grew hazy and rotten with all the filthy ways she could ruin you. rhea could sense your impending orgasm, opting to hook a leg over your shoulder, pressing down deep into you, feeling the tip of the toy hit your cervix with such delicious force.

“oh sweetie, you gonna cum? oh i know you do, just look at the way your pretty cunt throbs for me”

you felt a moan catch in your throat, your cunt so swollen and overstimulated, not just from the toy but from her tongue also. orgasm teetering in the edge of release

“mommy please! oh fuck yes- make me cum, mommy!” 

rhea increased the speed of her thrusts, her own cunt soppy and dripping with sweetness. 

“make a mess for mommy, baby. show me how a good girl cums”

you released, sweetness gushing like nectar from between your thighs. it’s a pity rhea couldn’t taste you for a second time, but watching you cum all over her makeshift cock was good enough for her. rhea pulled out of you, spurts of your warmth still squirting from you each time your cunt clenched and pulsed. she left you breathless, unable to speak for a moment. 

“such a good girl” rhea praised, quickly removing the harness and the toy, throwing it to the floor beside the bed, before resting herself atop the headboard.

“now…” she began, tugging you lightly by the hair, leaving your head positioned between her thick, inked thighs.

“come give mommy a kiss”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[joeloverture]

sea-cret obsession | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dad's enemy!yachter!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your dad's always had a superiority complex when it comes to his place at austin's finest yacht club. when joel miller joins the club, not only does he dethrone your dad — he also becomes your newest obsession. warnings: (18+ mdni) yachter!joel, dad's enemy!joel, age gap (mid 20s/mid 50s), alcohol, joel is implied to be older than reader's dad - don't read too far into it, reader wears a bikini (anyone can, i promise!), fantasizing, creepyish joel but reader's into it, soft!dom joel, porn with a paper-thin plot, m!receiving oral, throatfucking, facial, cum-eating, f!masturbation, blowjob in the captain's chair, daddy kink (oops), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, degradation, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 2.9k a/n: this was supposed to be a ficlet for @iamasaddie's ✏️game. this is not a ficlet. please suspend your disbelief, this concept simply fell into my lap the moment i saw the wonderful moodboard aly put together for me. go check out the other fics, most of which are much shorter than mine and are absolute brain candy, that stemmed from aly's game!

Austin is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell, and you haven’t stopped sweating bullets since climbing out of Lake Travis. After an afternoon of floating belly-up in your bikini off of the dock of the yacht club your dad frequents, your need for a drink finally outweighed your need for aimless swimming.

Your bare feet are still burning from the hotfooted walk across the wooden deck into the bar. Water droplets cling to your skin and leave a pattern of stippled concrete in your wake. It’s been a few hours you’ve seen your dad around the club, having already gotten into a pissing contest with new club members over horsepower and amenities. Your dad’s the type to always want the biggest and the best: the most decks, the biggest wine fridge, the nicest galley — because God forbid he lose his running ten-year superiority to a newbie.

So yeah, you need a drink. You don’t even have to order; the bartender, Callie, simply slides your usual order over, which you nurse while watching a preseason football game. You haven’t bothered to sit down, your hip popped out with your elbows propped up on the granite countertop.

You don’t even notice the wolf whistle from behind is directed at you until a man sidles up next to you, flashing a smile at Callie. He looks like he belongs in a yacht club, curls styled and sculpted neatly around his face down to where the collar of his blue blazer begins. Some of the buttons on his striped shirt are undone, and your eyes, much to your chagrin, linger at the slice of tanned chest peeking through the fabric.

He looks you up and down, unabashedly licking his lips when he sees the crease of your thighs. “Sweetheart, you’re much too pretty to be entertainin’ the ragtag kinda men around here.”

It’s not the first time you’ve been hit on by the yachters at this particular club, but it is the first time one of them has caught your eye. “I’m not–” you start before you hear the telltale sign of your dad’s laughter coming from close by. You turn around, drink in hand as he rounds the corner, sunglasses on and a towel around the back of his neck. 

Your dad’s expression immediately sours with a speed you’ve never seen in him before. His lips draw tight at the sight of you – or maybe the sight of the man next to you.

“Joel,” your dad says, separating from his entourage. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”

“Seems it,” the man, presumably Joel, nods, flagging down Callie for an old fashioned. The glass sweats condensation along his sturdy hand. He holds eye contact with you while he sips, only looking away when he runs his tongue along the rim of the glass. “Oughta let me take ‘er for a ride one day. Bet she’d appreciate the fine machinery of a real boat.”

You don’t miss the innuendo to his words even if your dad doesn’t. You scrub your hands along your sides, your sunscreen-sticky skin dewy beneath your palms. You shush the part of yourself that bets you’d appreciate it, too.

“Your boat is maybe good for getting to the retirement home across the lake,” your dad snaps, squeezing your shoulder. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s head home.”

You find your flip flops at the bottom of your beach bag, barely having the time to kick them on before your dad is practically pulling you out of the yacht club. He gives half-hearted waves to his usual boating buddies until you’re in the parking lot, surrounded by heat shimmering over the blacktop. The scalding hot leather seats burn the backs of your thighs and the small of your back as you settle in. With a purr, the air conditioner blows a fresh burst of wind in your face.

“What was that all about?” you ask when he starts the engine.

Your dad clips his sunglasses on his polo shirt, gripping the steering wheel ten and two with a winded sigh through his nose. “Fuckin’... rookie with his triple-decker Ferretti.”

Joel looked rich. But not Ferretti rich. “Who the hell in Austin owns a Ferretti?”

“That son of a bitch, that’s who. I don’t want you runnin’ amok on Joel’s boat, you hear me?”

“Ain’t planning on it,” you respond as if you don’t already know what’ll happen if Joel propositions you again.

You see Joel again soon, but only in passing. A wink behind your father’s back, a drink from the gentleman across the bar that was only coincidentally Joel. The locations of these run-ins are always different. Sometimes you walked by each other on the dock. Sometimes he’d give you both a quick wave from across the water before he sped off, leaving the boat rocking on the stirred up tide and your dad cussing up a storm.

Today’s almost-tryst happens on the dock. You’re walking past Joel’s designated dock in a bikini that you’d nearly thrown out because of its snug fit. You have to smother your disappointment when you don’t see him on the top deck sipping a beer. You know better than to be disappointed over the man who your dad has not only claimed as a mortal enemy, but also claimed as the antichrist. With the thoughts Joel gives you when your hand is between your thighs, it might not be too far from the truth.

You think you have most of it figured out – he’s rough, he has to be. With how relentless as he is on the waters, it makes no sense for him to be anything else. His fancy, custom belt buckles snicking as it comes undone so he can yank his jeans down and get inside of you. Those chains he always wears would hang in your face, swaying with every roll of his hips into yours as he chases his pleasure deep inside of your–

“Woah there, darlin’,” a honeyed voice coaxes you, a muscled arm darting out to stop you in your path. “Almost walked right into the lake.” Your head snaps up to look at Joel, the very inconvenient object of your fantasies. You swallow the quickly-forming lump in the back of your throat. “You sure you ain’t had too many?”

“Positive,” you say. You haven’t even done a shot s0 far today.

“Mmm, alright.” The playful glint in his eyes doesn’t seem too convinced. It makes your heart stutter before you remind it to keep beating. “Tell ya what, you’re welcome to ‘sober up’ on my boat.”

You look between where your dad’s dock sits empty. He’s out with his co-workers today, shooting the shit too much for their own good. Then you look between Joel and his boat, the beauty of a Ferretti that’s just two steps away.

Mouth already watering at the possibilities, you say, “I do remember you promising me a ride, old man.”

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, and he makes the long step from the dock to the boat, hand held out for you. You don’t hesitate to let him help you aboard. 

You’re on your knees in front of the captain’s chair before he gets to the middle of Lake Travis. “Old man,” he mocks above you with his legs spread as far as they can go. You kitten-lick his hardened cock, making sure to lap up the obscene amount of his precum. There’s certainly one part of Joel that doesn’t need to go to a retirement home, and it’s in your mouth. You suckle at the leaking head of his cock while his strokes your cheek, only pulling away to spoon a drop of his precum from your lip onto your tongue. “You like suckin’ an older man’s cock, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, taking him deeper so you can tongue the vein along the underside of his cock. From that, he groans, head slumping on the headrest so he can gather himself. You spit a generous amount into your hand, wrapping around the base to properly suck him.

“Bet there’s a whole ‘nother lake in that skimpy lil’ bikini of yours, ain’t that right?” You nod around his length and go a little deeper. He’s heavy on your tongue, long and girthy all at once. He presses lightly against the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him, but you wouldn’t pull away from him even if the yacht itself set on fire. He moans as you start to bob your head up and down. You rub your thighs together just thinking about what his cock could be capable of between your legs. “Mhm, I know, baby. You wanna push that outta the way and give it a rub for me? A rub for your real daddy?”

A choked whimper punches its way out of you. His hips jerk from the vibrations, unintentionally pushing himself further down your throat. You expect it to be too much, but it isn’t. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath as you wrap your hand around the wide palm seated on his thigh and raise it to the back of your head. “Please fuck my throat, daddy,” you pout up at him, a mixture of your spit and his precum dripping down your chin and into your cleavage.

Another groan tugs its way out of him when he looks down at you. He cups the back of your head and brings his cock back to your mouth. “Can’t say no to such a gorgeous fuckin’ face. Gonna look so damn good covered in my cum.” You keep licking his tip, not wanting to miss a single drop of him. “Go ‘head and put a hand on your pussy, baby. Rub that clit that daddy’s got all throbbin’.”

And how could you ever say no to him? Your hand is down your bikini within seconds, peeling your tacky panties away from your cunt so your fingertips can rub circles along your clit. A circle against your swollen core pulls a moan from you right as he thrusts into your throat. He starts out slow, tentative as he pushes all the way into your throat and then pulls all the way out. His second thrust is much harder, stifling your breathing for a moment as a strangled noise of pleasure leave his parted lips.

He nudges you further down onto his cock, burying your nose into the triangle of skin exposed by his rumpled button-down. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. Joel keeps your mouth speared on his cock with shallow rolls of his hips into the warm wetness of your mouth. You whine, prompting a hearty chuckle from him. “Good girl, daddy’s good little girl. Keep playin’ with yourself for me.” He smirks down at you. “Ain’t much different than what you do in your own bed, huh? Pussy just cryin’ for some cock, I bet.”

You moan in agreement as your eyes flutter shut when you rub your clit harder, harder, harder until arousal is smeared all over your knuckles and across your mound. “Nuh-uh,” he says with a punctuating adjustment of his hips. You gag, spit webbing through Joel’s happy trail. “Eyes on me.”

You’re satisfied to find him just as debauched as you feel. Strands of his usually put-together hair are out of place along his forehead, and his golden chain glistens with sweat. His hands grip the arms of the captain’s chair, spread on the tanned leather and exerting dominance over your kneeling silhouette. But you aren’t fooled. There’s a certain rosiness to his cheeks, a flare to his nose, that lets you in on the secret: he’s just as wrecked, just as in deep as you are.

You pull up and immediately sink down on his cock again, pleading eyes looking up at him, asking him. I want it daddy. I want you. And then he’s fucking your throat in earnest. His hips buck up to meet the back of your throat. You struggle to keep up with his size, his pace, but you suck his cock even with the knowledge that you won’t know how to explain your sore throat or raspy voice to your dad.

Joel squints down at you, absorbing the seeping spit from the corners of your raw lips, your droopy, ecstasy-laden eyes. He sighs, sinking down into the chair as he grinds his cock into your mouth and moves your head up and down his length. You take the hand that isn’t playing with your clit and reach to grab at his balls, kneading them. A narrow breath trips out of his lips. “Nasty bitch. Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close. Keep – keep doin’ that.” You drag your tongue along that bottom vein again, kneading one of his balls and making sure that when he pulls you off of his cock, you treat the head to one final taste. 

“Open up, slut,” he coaxes. His cock twitches. He jerks himself once, twice, and then cums, rope after rope hitting your damp skin. His cum is hot, sticky, and you’re too preoccupied with trying to catch some of his release that your hand stalls over your cunt. You whimper when his cum lands on your tongue and follow it up by swallowing. Joel’s breath is unsteady as he looks down at you, cock softening in his lap. “Good girl,” he praises, reaching out to run his thumb along your stained skin. Drop by drop, he feeds you his cum, and you lap it up just as eagerly as you’d lapped him up. 

You pull your hand out of your bikini when he’s done, tacky arousal stretching between your fingers. Going back on your haunches, you suck in a deep breath through your abused throat. 

Joel pats his wide, thick thighs above you, the same ones you’ve been fantasizing about since that first day in the bar. “I promised you a ride, didn’t I?” A familiar, hooked smirk pulls at his mouth. Your face lights up in recognition and you practically scamper onto his thigh, stumbling as you tug your bikini out of the way to settle yourself on the linen coral shorts he has on. Joel laughs, a noise that has your cunt leaking onto the fabric, clit fluttering from the friction. Heat pulls tight in your stomach.

His hands land on your hips, guiding you back and forth when you hesitate at first. “Grind on daddy’s thigh, baby. Wanna see you cum on me.” Your head tips forward, forehead slotting against his shoulder when you start to push your hips into his. Need springs awake in your stomach when he drags you forward. A frayed moan tumbles out of you from his near-manhandling. You rut into Joel, bouncing, grinding yourself on him in the same way that you’d imagined yourself doing at least a dozen times before this.

“Daddy,” you whimper when the muscle goes taut underneath you, plucking something in your cunt. At the same time, a speedboat passes Joel’s yacht outside, leaving the ship rocking on the water in time with your movements as you ride his thigh. You yelp, a strained noise as the pressure intensifies on your clit. “Close!”

He grips your hips even tighter, bounces his thigh up against you. “That’s it, that’s it. Let it happen baby, give it to daddy.”

You come undone with the taste of his cum still rich on your tongue and his words ringing in your buzzing ears. Your orgasm whips through your body and leaves you shuddering against his center, halfheartedly continuing to roll your hips up against him. His thumbs rub circles into your skin while you come down. You suck in a shaky breath, Joel’s palm stroking the small of your back. “Did good for me, baby. Look real pretty when you come. Real pretty.”

You give him a shy smile, and he leans forward to kiss you, a brief moment of gentleness amidst his usually ubiquitous harshness. He pulls away with a tiny pat to your ass. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You stumble off of him on shaky legs, leaning against the captain’s console. Joel pulls his shorts down his thighs and tucks his cock away, the wet spot your cunt had made on him beyond visible as he stretches himself out. He fishes around in a drawer in the galley for his baby wipes and joins you back at the console. He takes them to your face, wiping down where his cum had hit your skin. He even dabs gently at your thighs. Orgasm bliss clings to the edges of your vision still, and you can’t help but lean into him as he takes care of you.

“Could take you for a real ride, now,” Joel says with a moderate shrug. “Nice cove on the west side of the lake, good for a quick swim. I’m sure your dad would throw a fit if he knew, but I’m sure you’re good at keepin’ secrets, too. Got a real good mouth on ya.”

You playfully punch his shoulder with a roll of your eyes, and in that moment, it feels like you’ve known Joel much longer than you have at all. Like this isn’t your first time on his boat, and this wasn’t his first time being in your mouth. “Alright,” you begrudgingly smile at him. “Whatever you say, old man.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he starts the engine.

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Chaos Monster & Her English Gent (A Callum Turner x Reader Smut)

Warnings: Smut, language, kiddos under 18 do not interact!

Notes: When I said I've become a total slut for this man and his bf Austin I wasn't fucking around. Lemme know if y'all want an Austin smut/sequel because I totes have some ideas I think you'll like.

Looking back I don’t think any of us expected this to happened. I certainly didn’t and I was the one who had the most to lose if things had gone sour rather than go the way they did.

I’m getting ahead of myself though so I’ll just start where this whole mess began: the first time I visited Austin on the Masters of the Air set. I’d sneaked up behind Austin, my best friend for life and possibly longer, as he was talking to a rather handsome man with the most unimaginably contagious smile. I put my finger to my lips once he’d seen me and jumped onto Austin’s back. “’Sup Elvis!”

“PRISCILLA?! FUCK!” Austin turned and scooped me up. “YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME BABE!”

I laughed and squeezed him back. “Well that’s what you get for taking for fucking ever to return my texts you ass!”

“Sorry ‘bout that sweetheart but duty called a hell lot more than I thought it would,” he said once I was back on the ground. “Oh,” he turned back to the smiling man. “By the way, Callum this is my best girl, Y/N, Y/N this is my new best friend Callum.”

“Nice to meet you my handsome replacement,” I said.

Callum smiled nearly bringing out a giggle from deep inside me. Fuck, he is good. “Pleasure’s all mine love, and I am definitely not replacing you. You’re more beautiful than I will ever be.”

Struck dumb by his buttery smooth British accent and killer icebreaker I turned to Austin. “He is a hell of a keeper.”

“Yeah I think so too,” Austin laughed. “So how long are you staying?”

“I’ve taken a week off work so I’m gonna be yours until about Sunday,” I said.

“Oh sweet. Can’t wait to show you off to the rest of the boys, they’re gonna love you,” Austin said as we started towards a couple other guys in period attire.

“Only until they get to know me,” I said. “Let’s see how they react once they see the true chaos monster you know and love.”

“Well, this is gonna be a right interesting week,” Callum said walking on the other side of me.

Of course he wasn’t wrong about that. The next few days were filled with me and Austin being a chaotic duo in front of his cast mates who were also quite chaotic themselves. I’m not sure how or when it started happening but whenever Austin was away either in costume or make-up, Callum and I started to talk. Barry would sometimes be there but most of the time it was just us.

“I’m really gonna miss having you around,” Callum said two days before I was due to leave. We were in his trailer. Austin was busy talking with his manager so I figured I’d bug Callum for a bit. He was changing out of his costume and into civilian wear while I hung out in his make up chair.

“You act as if you don’t have my number and social medias,” I said. “I’m heading home, not dying.”

“Well, talking with you on a phone or in DM’s isn’t exactly the same as having you here,” Callum continued.

“What can you possibly say that can’t be said over the phone?”

“It’s not what I wish to say but rather what I wish to do that can’t be done over a phone call,” he said starting towards me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs which left little to nothing to the imagination.

“And what exactly is it that you wish to do good sir?”

He smirked and started leaning down. “This,” his lips connected with mine. His plump lips were soft and warm as he kissed me. It wasn’t enough to send me off the edge and before I knew it I had my arms around him letting him carry me to the small couch. Once there he pulled back and brought his lips down to my neck. As he left what I was sure was gonna be a massive hickey I reached down and started palming him through his underwear. He groaned at the feeling, his body trembling on top of mine.

“I’m a bit overdressed don’t you think?” I breathed. He smiled and sat up. I reached down and lifted my shirt over my head. He took it from me and tossed it to the side before reaching for the zipper and button on my pants. Not even a minute later I was fully bare in front of him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered pecking me on the mouth. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” As he started to kiss me again I nudged at his briefs, doing my best to get them off. Callum got the hint though and pulled them off tossing them with my clothes. I think he could see how big my eyes got at the sight of him for he chuckled softly and said, “Like what you see, darling?”

I had no idea how to answer. If I’d though he was big when flaccid it was nothing compared to how endowed he was when he was hard.

I looked from his crotch up to his face as he continued to look at me quizzically with that smile that didn’t seem to go away. “C’mere,” I said moving from the couch to the floor beside it. He laid himself on top of me sending a shiver through me as his dick brushed my folds, ghosting my entrance. He reached down, gave himself a tug and placed himself there.

“Okay, love?” he asked. I nodded and just like that he was inside me. I clung to him as my body got use to the stretch. Callum cussed a rainbow of curse words in my ear as I enveloped him. His thrusting began soon after.

Turns out Callum is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He kept his movements slow at first, not daring to go faster or harder without my say so. Once the stinging subsided I brought my mouth to his, kissing him harder before telling him, “Harder… I need you to go harder.” With that he picked up the pace, almost slamming completely into me. “FUCK!”

“You’re taking me so well darling, fuck!!” He took me into his arms and slowly lifted me up, still thrusting into me. I held onto him moving up and down as he sat back. I rode him like that for a while until he lied completely back, putting me in charge for a bit.

As I moved my body conscious of the fact that I could see a small bump pulsating in my lower stomach, Callum reached down and started rubbing me with his long fingers. I bit back a scream at the feeling but let him keep playing with clit. It made me feel alive in a way I couldn’t put into words and before I knew it I was riding him like my life depended on it.

We continued like that until I began to feel the pressure build up inside me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“It’s alright, darling, just...just let go on my cock,” he said grabbing my ass and slamming me harder on his length. The pressure continued to grow more intense, until finally I was screaming and tightening around him. As I remained clamped down on his length Callum wrapped his arms around me and flipped us back over so that he was on top.

He continued to thrust as I came down from the most mind boggling orgasm of my life. I was still seeing stars when Callum’s thrusts became sloppy. Suddenly the gentle boy I’d been falling for became beastly, almost roaring as he twitched inside me, filling me up until there wasn’t a single drop left in him.

My body was still shaking, my cunt throbbing, as he pulled out and collapsed beside me.

“That was… incredible...magical even…”

“It was the best damn shag of my life,” Callum said breathless making me giggle. I turned my body to face him and cringed at the soreness between my legs. “You alright love?”

“Mentally and emotionally speaking I’m fucking great,” I said. “Physically speaking...fuck… Callum, I love you with every fiber of my being and will gladly do this again and again with you but god damn I think you just about broke me in half.”

He laughed at that and kissed my now swollen lips. “So, you agree then? To be my girlfriend I mean.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m pretty sure I’m more than that. I mean, I did just say I love you, and lord knows those are words I don’t say to just anybody.”

“Just to the lad who shags your brains out?” I slapped him playfully on his chest. “Only joking darling. I love you too, and I don’t say those words to just anybody either.”

“Just to the girl that rode you and milked you for every last drop of cum in your body?”

“Actually, I believe I just said them to the girl I want to marry.”

“Quite the fast one aren’t you?”

“Only when I know deep down in my bloody heart and bones that I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” he said.

“Alright, but there’s something we gotta do first… Something pretty damn risky.” He looked at me questioningly.

“And that is?”

I looked up and smiled nervously. “We gotta tell Austin.”

“OH FUCK!”

[janaispunk]

joel miller - series

fic recs masterlist - please check the tags and warnings on each fic! if you enjoyed a fic, please show the writer some love <3

austin city limits by @refined-by-fire

sex on fire & cowboy like me by @macfrog

i know it when i see it by @bageldaddy

raider joel & slasher joel by @toxicanonymity

pretty little wife & smother by @beardedjoel

burlesque & daddy next door by @cavillscurls

feelings on fire & to freeze or to thaw by @joelscruff

your summer dream & good to me by @swiftispunk

trial & error by @thetriumphantpanda (featuring tommy miller)

the checklist & one day i'll fly away by @thetriumphantpanda

cherub by @cherubispunk

lost in the dark & hard to be soft, tough to be tender by @iamasaddie

dom/brat tamer!joel, meet me in the back & the rogue who coaxed you by @atticrissfinch

you wanted this by @alwaysmicado

somebody to heal, somebody to hold by @bearsbeetsbeskar

feel it in your bones by @joelscurls

something wretched about this, dress up joel & cuck!joel by @covetyou

a lover's pinch & fwb!joel by @hier--soir

pour choices by @pascalpvnk

his favorite girl by @futureman

stay in bed by @psychedelic-ink

fall apart, again by @wildemaven

liquid gold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (featuring tommy miller)

i know it's for the better by @planet-marz1

fruit from the trees by @javierssunglasses

all i did was what i had to do & you know you never stood a chance by @corazondebeskar-reads

ain't no rest for the wicked by @corazondebeskar-reads (featuring tess servopoulos)

woman by @dancingtotuyo

cherry waves by @hyzer34

from eden by @5oh5

breakout by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

when my time comes around by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

look for the light by @mermaidgirl30

i'll be home for christmas by @punkshort

a stranger's heart without a home by @morning-star-joy

short days, long nights by @frannyzooey

the hardest part is who we are by @whxtedreams

mine all mine by @swiftispunk & @mrsmando

cherry thrill by @hellishjoel

honeyed by @softlyspector

teacher's pet by @javiscigarette

whiskey sour & helen by @kiwisbell

daredevil by @joeloverture

[sansaorgana]

omg I literally came across your work today and it was so awesome!!!! I was wondering if you’d be comfortable writing a more dominant buck cleven with his young wife and then another one which is buck cleven meeting a young girl and their love story with the the war timeline super cute fluff.

Of course it us up to you if you want to do it. But i just wanted to say how mych i love your work and i look forward to seeing more!! ❤️😊❤️😊❤️😊

hey, love! 💐 so, I googled Buck's age and apparently he was quite young during the war. because of Austin, I thought that he was like in his 30s. but apparently he was born in 1918, so he was only like 25 in 1943. and I'm not very comfy with writing readers who are "barely legal" in age gap relationships, so I didn't focus much on reader's age here. I mean, even if she's his age, then she's still a young girl 😂

this fic takes place after the war and they are married. Buck works at some military base idk it's not really mentioned nor important lol. he's rougher here than in the previous one but not very rough either because I think he's overall a softie for his girl 🤭 Buck and reader are in a traditional marriage 🥧

when it comes to the second idea with the war timeline, it's like a multichapter fic idea and I am not in the right headspace to write something so long at the moment. I am sorry, boo 🥺

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

Being married to Buck Cleven was a dream come true and you just wanted to make everything right. You would wake up an hour before him to put your make up on, get dressed in a cute dress and an apron, to take out the curlers out of your hair. And to prepare him a warm breakfast that would be ready when he is awake. You were helping Buck to get ready for work and then you would go grocery shopping. Then you would clean the house and cook dinner. In the meantime the dog your husband had brought from the war – Meatball – required some of your attention as well. He had to be fed and wanted to go out on a long walk once a day. He was a Husky so running around the garden was not enough for him.

It wasn't as easy to be a housewife as some women pictured it. It wasn't as peaceful and calm and relaxing. But it was worth everything. Your husband's smile and kisses on the cheek. You just wanted to make him happy. It was like you were infected with the affection because making him happy was everything that mattered. You never wanted him to complain or start looking for fun outside the house. You wanted to be his everything as much as he was yours.

And today you decided to bake him a pie. It was Friday and he had a long and stressful week. You wanted to make him a sweet and sour cherry pie to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. But everything seemed to go wrong with it. You were slow on that day and your first try was a disaster. You had to throw it away and start all over again, angry at yourself. Your cheeks and nose were stained with flour and your hands were red from the cherries' juice. You were so frustrated, you didn't notice what time it had already been.

You were so focused on kneading the dough that you didn't hear the sound of the car parking outside. Perhaps you did but you thought it was the neighbor. There was no reason why your husband would be home so early, right?

It wasn't early at all, though. It was exactly the same time when Buck would come back home every day. And he was surprised not to see you standing behind the window and waiting for him with a soft smile. It made him worry a little.

And then he walked inside the house and didn't see you in the corridor to take his jacket and give him a kiss. That was more than unusual indeed. He looked around and sighed before taking the jacket off on his own and hanging it on the wall. It didn't feel the same without your soft fingers helping him and your sweet lips asking him about his day. He missed your eyes sparkling at the sight of him, your loving smile, your lovely scent. Your warm lips on his cheek, staining it slightly with a cherry red lipstick. God, he was crazy about you.

"Baby?" he asked in a soft voice. The very first place he checked was the kitchen and there you were, working passionately on something on the counter in front of you. He was facing your back so he had no idea what it could be. "Baby?" he asked once again and you jumped a little at the sound.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You got scared by your husband's voice but you also were scared that he was back so soon. You took a quick glance at the clock on the wall and swallowed thickly. Yes, it made perfect sense that he was home already. And you didn't have the pie ready yet.

Hell, you didn't even have the dinner ready at all!

"Oh, Buck!" you sobbed and turned around. He furrowed his brows at that sudden outburst and your face stained with flour. Then he noticed your red hands.

"Is everything alright, sweetheart?" he hurried to your side and grabbed your wrists. "What's going on? Is that blood?"

"Hm? What? No, no," you sniffed. "It's cherries," you explained and he sighed with relief. "I wanted to make you a cherry pie. But I'm slow today and I ruined the first one. I wanted to make it again, I lost the track of time… I didn't prepare dinner either… Oh goodness, I am the worst wife ever. You must regret marrying me. I'm so sorry," you sobbed again and looked down, avoiding his gaze.

Buck was left speechless at this little scene. He had no idea you felt this way.

"What are you talking about, doll?" he asked carefully and tried to wipe the flour away from your cheeks but he only smudged it in the process. You looked adorable like that to him, though. He only wished you didn't cry. It was making him feel physical pain deep in his chest to see you sad like this. You were his girl and his job was to make you happy. "You're the best wife I could ever wish for. Every day I ask myself how the hell did I get so lucky."

"R-really?" you bit on your lower lip and looked up at him with wet eyes. "I'm a mess."

"We all make a mess sometimes," Buck shushed you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon your lips. "And no one makes a prettier mess than you do, darling," he added with a smirk.

In one swift motion he lifted you up and turned around to sit you up on the empty counter. You were surprised that he rewarded your failure with a kiss but you couldn't complain. You crossed your legs behind him and put your fingers in his golden hair. You let out a sweet moan into his mouth and felt your cheeks heating up.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, ashamed of yourself. You didn't want your husband to think you were dirty or easy like any harlot.

"Oh God, what are you sorry for?" Buck seemed to be excited, though. He leaned in even closer and placed another kiss upon your lips, more heated this time. His hair was a mess now from all your tugging, his locks were falling on his forehead and tickling your face. "You have absolutely no idea how crazy you make me, baby," he whispered between one passionte kiss and another.

His big hands dropped from your waist to tug on the hems of your dress and apron. He lifted them up as much as he could as his fingers started to roam all over your stockings and the naked skin of your thighs where the straps of your stockings were. You wanted him to touch you between your legs so badly but you didn't want to say it out loud.

"You have to ask for it, baby," he teased, knowing your desires perfectly well, and you could feel your cheeks burning from embarrassment. "Be a good girl and ask for it, come on," he encouraged you.

"P-please…" you breathed out but he wasn't satisfied.

"Please? You're asking for something. Tell me what it is," he mocked you as his fingertips circled upon the hot, naked skin of your inner thigh.

"I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you, darling," he smirked and you bit on your lower lip. Why did he want you to say this out loud? Wives shouldn't say such things.

"I want you to touch me between my legs," you whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Louder," Buck commanded. He gave you a very intense and serious look that scared you a little but it also motivated you to obey him.

"Touch me between my legs. I need you there," you dared to say out loud.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it, sweet baby?" he cooed to you and you gasped at the feeling of his fingers on your wet panties. He laughed softly. "So wet already?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry. What are you sorry for?" he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and made you look into his eyes. "The only thing you should be sorry about is how crazy you drive me."

You nodded, unsurely, and when he saw that you no longer fight him about it, he stopped squeezing your cheeks and put his long fingers inside your mouth instead. You were surprised at that but you quickly understood what he expected from you. You started to suck on them while staring intensly and lustfully into his bright blue eyes.

"God, you're a sight," he moaned and his fingers got inside your panties to rub on your heated center. Feeling his rough fingertips on your clit made a shiver run down your spine as you jumped a little on the counter. He chuckled and took his hand away. "Taste it," he removed his fingers from your mouth and placed his other hand in front of your mouth. You winced a little at the sight of how wet his fingers were, coated with your juices. "I want you to taste how sweet you are," he insisted and you opened your mouth unsurely. But the moment he put his fingers inside, you started to suck them clean. You wanted to obey your husband.

Buck's free hand focused on tearing your panties and leaving them in shreds on the floor. He had never done that before but you very much enjoyed how hungry he seemed to be for you.

"And?" he asked teasingly after removing his fingers from your mouth and wiping the drool from the corners of your mouth.

"Sweet," you agreed with him because he wouldn't accept any other answer anyway.

"Damn you are," he nodded before grabbing your hips again and pulling you closer to get better access to you. Your center was pressed to his crotch and you could feel that his trousers seemed to be too tight.

You let your hands wander to his belt to undo it while kissing him as your foreheads were pressed to each other's. The kisses were sloppy and nearly desperate as if you needed him more than air to breathe.

"Let me," Buck moved your hands away to work on his belt and you grabbed his arms instead to keep yourself steady and hold him close. Not long after you felt him between your legs, rubbing the tip on your wet and swollen clit. "Baby?" he asked to make sure.

"Go on," you nodded and dug your nails into the sleeves of his shirt at the feeling of him sliding inside. It made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"You're such a doll," he whispered before hiding his face in the crook of your neck to suck on your sensitive skin and make you moan. Usually you tried to be quiet but it seemed like he wanted to hear you because every time you tried to keep it on the low, he would suck and tease more with his tongue, making it impossible to stay quiet. Your sounds were like a symphony to him and he wanted you to finally realize that.

"Oh, Buck," you sighed as his hips started to thrust faster. You felt him so deep that your eyes filled with tears. It was a sweet mixture of pleasure and pain that you never wanted to stop. However, your body twitched slightly as if it tried to get away from the intense, overwhelming feeling.

"Stay still when I'm trying to put a baby in you, will ya?" Buck growled into your neck and it made you feel dizzy. Your fingers dug even deeper as your back arched to feel him at a different angle. It soon became too much to handle and you felt the knot forming in your stomach. Having Buck's baby would only make you happier and even more fulfilled as his wife. It would be a dream come true to carry his son or daughter and let everyone know you were his wife. You wanted it more than anything else.

You came with a loud moan while tugging on Buck's hair. You squeezed him so tight that he came shortly after. His hips thrusted chaotically and you felt him biting your neck to muffle his own moan as your womb filled with his warm seed. You loved that feeling. It was making you feel like you were his more than anything else.

Now when the heated moment was over, you felt a bit awkward with what had just happened. You were the first one to move away carefully and fixed your hair. Buck watched you while breathing heavily with his hair ruffled and forehead covered with sweat. He put his trousers back on and worked on his belt as you tried to jump off the counter but you almost fell down in the process because your legs shaked so much. Buck caught you swiftly.

"Be careful, baby," he pulled you close to hug you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I need to make dinner," you explained.

"No, you don't," he shook his head. "Get dressed and we'll go to town."

"Really? I don't have to cook?" you asked, surprised.

"No. And, in fact, I think we should be going out to eat every Friday. I don't want you to spend every day in the kitchen, sweetheart," Buck rubbed your back.

"But… But I'm your wife," you tried to protest.

"Exactly," he nodded and lifted your chin up, "and I'm your husband and it's my goddamn job to look after you. And the baby," he winked.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sydsaint]

Could you do a x reader fic with our three sexy himbo men with any injury prompts you want?

Protective Boyfriend Mode go hard with these three <3

Fic wrote using @promptsbytaurie 's injury prompt list.

Prompts used, 2. "Some get the medic. Get the medic!" and 19. "I came as soon as I heard."

Summary: GM reader confronts Roman and his cousins in the ring after Roman refuses to defend his title at the next PLE. An argument ensues and GM reader ends up taking a spill out of the ring by accident.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" You narrow your eyes at Grayson and Austin as they come through the door of your office.

"Not really, no." Austin shrugs and shuts the door behind him.

Grayson steps next to him and nods in agreement. "You'd know, wouldn't you, YN." He teases you.

"Giving me attitude, Waller?" You raise a brow at him. "Sounds to me like you two want a match against some tough competition. Maybe, the Street Profits? Or AOP?" You prompt the pair with a grin.

"No!" Austin protests. "We're good, thanks babe. Gray was just playing around." He insists.

You twirl your pen in your hand and laugh. "That's what I thought."

Your laptop dings with a new email and you glance at it to see if it's anything important. When you gloss over the header your face turns sour, which Grayson and Austin instantly notice.

"Something wrong, YN?" Austin asks you.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You grit your teeth. "Who in the hell does he think he is?"

Grayson and Austin share a small looks of worry before they both turn back to you. "Who? What's up, YN?" Grayson asks you.

"Paul fucking Heyman." You growl. "And that entitled asshat Roman Reigns. According to Paul, Roman won't be defending his title at the next PLE." You explain. "Not defending that title my ass."

Grayson and Austin watch you rise from your seat with a sour expression. You close your laptop and reach for the walkie-talkie sitting on the desk. "Tell Roman I want him in the ring in 10 minutes." You speak into the talkie in a firm tone. "Or his ass is suspended without pay."

"Umm, you want us to come with you?" Austin asks as you shoulder past him with a scowl.

"Sure. You two can make sure that I don't beat Paul to death in the middle of the ring." You reply.

Grayson and Austin both nod and hurry after you once you're out the door. You stomp your way through the backstage area like a woman on a mission. When you make it down to the ramp entrance, Roman and his cousins are already out in the ring with Paul at their side. You grab a microphone off the table and march out to the ring hellbent on ripping Paul and Roman a new one.

"You've got some nerve, Paul." You confront Heyman as soon as you're out of the tunnel. "And Roman. Oh, Roman. Tell me, who the fuck do you think you are?" You ask him.

"Miss LN." Paul remains calm and civil. "What can my Tribal Chief and I do for you?" He asks you.

You march down the ramp with Austin and Grayson at your side. "What? Do you think that because you're the great Roman Reigns that you get to decide when and where you defend that title?" You climb into the ring. "Newsflash you entitled part-timer! You aren't in charge. I tell you when and where you'll defend that title. And if you don't like it? Guess what? There's the door!"

"Pfft." Roman dares scoff at you. "Like you could do anything." He insists with a smug smile. "You're just the help. WWE is nothing without me."

"This company has been through must worse, trust me on that." You fire back. "And guess what? If that title isn't being defended by you at the next PLE in three weeks? Well guess what? It'll be vacated." You inform him. "Your choice, Reigns."

Roman stares at you and rises from the chair that was provided from him by Paul. His llp curls into a scowl but you don't budge from your spot in front of him. Solo and Jimmy both step up on either side of Roman and you have to laugh.

"You aren't the only one with goons, Roman." You remind him as Austin and Grayson step up either side of you to match Solo and Jimmy.

Roman snickers again and in an instant Solo and Jimmy are on Grayson and Austin. The four men break out in a brawl and you move to stay out of the way while they fight. You step back and call for security to come break up the fight before it gets too out of hand.

While you're calling for security Solo makes a move to spear Grayson into the corner of the ring. Grayson darts out of the way not knowing that you're standing behind him and Solo hits you instead. You get hit hard and fly back into the turnbuckle. Your head hits the pole hard and your vision blurs for a second as you fall to your knees.

"Holy shit!" Austin sees the hit first and scrambles past Jimmy. "Medic! Someone get the medic. Get the medic!" He shouts as he hurries over to you.

Not about to lose their jobs over this, Solo and Jimmy both back off. They slink off with Roman and leave Grayson and Austin to check on you.

"YN! Fuck, are you okay? I am so sorry!" Grayson realizes what happened and rushes over to you with Austin.

"Ouch." You groan and clutch the back of your head. "It's alright, Gray." You insist and wince in pain when your hand touches the back of your head.

The medical team all file out to the ring like their jobs are on the line. They push past Grayson and Austin and start attending to you. Grayson and Austin both stand by and watch helplessly as you get looked at and helped to your feet.

"Here, move. I'll carry her." Austin steps up when he sees you wobble on your feet.

"Austin, I'm fine. I can walk." You insist but your head throbs in pain with each step.

Austin doesn't take no for an answer and sweeps you off your feet. Grayson parts the ring ropes for him and rattles off a string of apologies as Austin carries you up the ramp.

Austin carries you all the way back to the trainers room and only sets you down when you're in front of an exam table.

"YN? I came as soon as I heard!" La Knight comes busting through the door a few seconds later in search of you.

You are busy getting looked at so Grayson and Austin walk over to Knight and fill him in on what went down.

"So she's going to be alright?" Knight asks Austin and Grayson, who both nod. "Good. That means you two can come with me without feeling guilty." He adds.

"Come with you? For what?" Grayson replies.

Austin steps over to Knight and looks at Waller. "To kick Romans and his cousins asses, duh." He explains.

"Yep. Come on." Knight nods and turns toward the door. "We've all got enough money between us to take care of any suspension fines."

Grayson and Austin both agree and the trio all file out of the trainers room before you have time to notice that they've gone.

[lymansims]

"as the child of a teenage popstar, your life is as glamorous as it is chaotic."

on the afternoons Austin isn't with Talia or hogging racks at thriftea, he takes the bus down to magnolia promenade and loiters around the arlington department store, where, most recently, he and his friends went prom shopping.

there, he sort of lies about being paid to be there. there's a nice photography studio up on the third floor with a lock that's easily bypassed, so he often sets up his things and asks patrons if they'd mind being the subject of a photoshoot.

usually, the snobby, rich shoppers don't mind a moment of extra attention.

today, his target is this young woman, who he talks into repping his newest trendi look. if he plays his cards right, he can usually get some of the photographs published.

he posts the first few from the collection to his simstagram, where his followers lap it up, and soon enough there's an email from a publisher in his inbox, and a bidding war in his trendi notifications.

another day, another opportunity.

[fooled-around-and-fell]

Hiiii can I request more of Home Bound? It doesn't even have to be a part two, I just want to read more of them 😩 this seems more realistic and I can feed it to my delulu mind

Ask and you shall receive! here's another chapter for you lovelies 🩵

Home Bound Series:

Morning Coffee

Summary: Evan is your partner for the new cafe. Joel's never met Evan. Joel feels slightly jealous of Evan.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

warnings: jealous but fluffy joel. Joel is a contractor in his 40s, your dad is retired in his 60s, your age is not specified, but in my head it's about 27 up.

Masterlist

-----

After a few months of moving back to Austin, it finally feels like home again. Your parents, surprisingly, took the news of you moving back home very well. They still have no idea that you're in a relationship with the neighbor next door who's practically double your age, but that's a conversation for another time.

You told your parents you're going out and staying at a friend's house, when in fact you're just next door, enjoying a few cups of coffee with your boyfriend while he figures out the best tile color for his client's bathroom.

"I'm thinking sage green," he says, holding a sample next to the printed picture of the bathroom.

You hum, handing him a third cup of coffee. "Love that color. Looks so classy."

"Hon, are you tryin' to give me a heart attack?" He asks, motioning to the third cup you just gave him.

"Oh relax, I only gave you a little bit. You only had 3 sips." You say. "What do you think of this flavor? It's matcha dalgona."

"It's basically 3 shots of espresso, and I have no idea what you just said." He says, sipping the coffee and wincing. "Tastes like I'm drinking grass."

You roll your eyes. "You're dramatic."

"Sure, sure." he kisses your cheek. "Anyway, I need to head out and get the tiles. Should be back around 5."

You nod and walk out with him. "I'll be at the cafe discussing more recipes with Evan. I'll head back home after cleaning up here."

"Okay." He smiles and gives you a kiss. "You don't have to clean up!"

"I will!" You yell back and slap your mouth shut when you realize your parents might hear you.

After cleaning up the coffee mugs and the house a little, you lock the front door with the set of keys Joel gave you and make your way back home. Joel's keys -- well, your keys -- jingling as you walk makes you smile. You've never been happier and your relationship with Joel has been amazing.

You spend a lot of time in the cafe. It's still not finished, you need to find the right tables, and the right chairs, but you and Evan are thankfully able to already use the kitchen.

"So for our specialty drinks we have the matcha-dalgona coffee, salted-caramel latte, Baileys coffee, and... I think we need one more."

"Did you hear people are trying orange juice with coffee now?"

"What?" You cringe, "I can't imagine that to be good... Won't it just be sour?"

"Apparently the sourness and citrus flavor makes coffee easier to drink." Evan says, "Plus it's two breakfast drinks in one, it's efficient."

Evan goes to grab his thermos and a mug, pouring out the contents for you to try.

"Oh this was a set-up."

"It's really good! And no one else sells this around here."

You hesitantly taste the orange coffee Evan poured and surprisingly, the flavor does work together. It's a little confusing, but with a little twist and adjusting it should taste better.

"So? What do you think?"

"First of all," You put the mug down, "Adding pulp in this is a criminal offense. Second, I can see why people would like it. I just don't know how we're going to elevate this."

Evan brings out his notebook, "I'm way ahead of you."

While Evan browses his notebook and you try your best to find workable flavors from the orange coffee, a familiar face is watching the two of you interact and a small frown forms on his face.

Joel hesitantly makes his way towards your cafe, fixing his belt before pushing the doors open. "Hey honey."

"Joel!" You put your mug down and walk over to give him a kiss. "I didn't know you'd come by."

"I've got some time, thought I'd see how you're doing." He kisses your cheek. "And this is..."

"Evan," You introduce them, "This is my boyfriend, Joel. Joel, this is Evan."

"Nice to meet you," Evan extends his hand for Joel to shake.

Joel didn't expect this Evan to be tall, handsome, built, and most importantly... young. Well, he knew a cafe owner couldn't be his age, but he didn't think Evan would be close to your age and.. single.. and.. available...

"Pleasure." He gives a tight smile.

The timer on the oven dings, and you make your way to take the scones out. "Perfect timing. Joel, would you like to have some of Evan's heavenly scones? First time I had them in New York, I immediately fell in love with his cafe and pastries."

"Really?" You fell in love, huh? Joel shakes the thought away from his head. After the scones have cooled down a little bit, he takes a bite out of one. Damn, they are good. "Yeah, they're pretty good scones."

"Well I'm glad you like it." Evan smiles. "Alright, I need to head out. See you tomorrow? I can show you how I usually make my croissants."

He's gonna what- Joel has to bite his tongue and smile.

"Oh, yes please!" You excitedly say and wave as Evan walks out.

Joel sits on one of the stools and munches on his scone, silently sulking.

"Alright, spit it out." You chuckle. "What's on your mind, cowboy?"

Joel eases his frown. "Nothing."

You know Joel won't ever tell you, but you know how to push his buttons to make him talk. "Evan's nice, huh?"

"Real nice."

"I can't wait to make croissants with him tomorrow. He's so good at making pastries and mm-"

"Alright, alright." Joel stands up while you exaggeratedly moan, imagining eating the croissants. He stands behind you and puts his arms around your waist.

You smile when his beard hits your neck and turn around to see him better. "Do I sense a little green-eyed monster coming out of you?"

Joel rolls his eyes. "Maybe."

"Aw," You kiss his nose, "That's adorable."

Joel chuckles. "I just didn't expect him to be so... young.. and fit. I'm in my 40s, and... I don't know, I guess a part of me always thought if you found someone younger, you'd probably go for him."

"Joel," You cup his face in your hands, "I don't care if you're in your 40s, 50s... I want to be with you. You make me the happiest and I wouldn't change anything about you."

Joel smiles appreciatively and kisses your forehead. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Only for you, Joel. Only for you."

----

"Oh, and Joel?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Evan's gay."

"...Oh."

------

taglist:

@paleidiot @casa-boiardi

[faithshouseofchaos]

The roughie and the racer

Part one

Daniel Ricciardo x male!oc

Word count 4k

I don’t know how I feel about this honestly let me know what you think I had to break up with the last 2k words 😭😭😭😭

Caden arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. "You want me to accompany you where?" he inquired. His sister let out a sigh. "To the Austin Grand Prix," she repeated. Caden's expression turned sour. "What happened to your date?" he probed. His sister glanced down at the ground and murmured, "He bailed." "And why do you assume I'm free that weekend? Perhaps I already have plans," Caden retorted sarcastically. His sister gazed at him doubtfully. "So, do you have plans?" she asked, fully aware that her loner of a brother likely had no prior commitments for the weekend.

Caden let out a deep sigh and slowly uncrossed his arms. "No, I don't have any plans that weekend," he said, his voice tinged with defeat. His sister's face lit up with a smile. "See, I knew it! And who knows, maybe you'll end up having a great time," she teased, playfully punching her brother in the arm.

Caden rolled his eyes, but a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. "I doubt it," he muttered, rubbing his arm where his sister had made contact. "But I'll go," he conceded, knowing full well he had little choice in the matter. "But don't expect me to enjoy myself. I don't get why you're so into this F1 junk." His sister beamed with excitement. “You're lucky I love” Caden says to his sister rolling his eyes. His sister grinned widely as she ruffled Caden's hair, playfully teasing him. "Awww, Caden, you're such a softie deep down," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look at how easily you're being corrupted by my influence. Soon you'll be begging me to take you to every race." Caden grumbled as he attempted to fix his disheveled hair. "I'm only doing this because it's important to you," he muttered, his voice tinged with feigned annoyance. Deep down, he couldn't deny the fondness he had for his sister.

"And I won't beg for anything!" he added defiantly. His sister couldn't help but chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing her brother. "Oh, I know you won't beg," she replied with a smirk. "You're too stubborn for that. But mark my words, by the end of the weekend, you'll be a racing enthusiast just like me." Caden scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "In your dreams," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'll tolerate the races, but I'll never become a fan like you. It's just not my thing, and it never will be."

Their banter continued as they joked and teased one another playfully. Despite Caden's reluctance, he secretly couldn't help feeling a hint of anticipation for the upcoming weekend and the chance to spend some quality time with his sister. "Just promise me one thing," Caden said, interrupting their playful banter momentarily. His expression turned serious, and he looked at his sister with sincerity. "Promise me you'll make sure we get the best view of the race. If I'm going to suffer through this, I might as well have a comfortable seat."

His sister raised an eyebrow, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, Caden," she said with a sly smirk. "I already have it all figured out. We'll be sitting in the front row, practically on top of the action. You might even forget you hate F1 by the end of it." Caden rolled his eyes again, his irritation mingled with a hint of reluctant curiosity. He didn't want to admit it, but his sister's enthusiasm was beginning to rub off on him...just a little.

"Just don't expect me to root for any of those drivers or anything," he grumbled, trying to maintain his grumpy facade. His sister laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of asking you to root for anyone," she replied playfully. "You can just sit there and judge them in your head. That's what you do best, right?"

Caden huffed, pretending to be annoyed but unable to suppress the corners of his lips from twitching into a slight smile. "You know me too well," he conceded, a hint of affection in his voice. "Besides, you might discover you find one of those drivers surprisingly attractive," his sister teased, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

Caden's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, please, don't say things like that! I wouldn't be caught dead crushing on some rich, arrogant racer."

His sister laughed wholeheartedly, thoroughly enjoying Caden's sarcastic reactions. "Relax, Caden, I'm just messing with you," she giggled. "But you never know, stranger things have happened. And if you do end up crushing on a racer, you'll owe me a year's supply of ice cream."

Caden playfully shoved her, trying to feign annoyance, but it was evident he was enjoying their banter. "You're insufferable," he muttered, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But fine, if I end up hopelessly swooning over a racer, I'll treat you to a year's worth of ice cream. However, I highly doubt that's ever going to happen." His sister grinned widely, clearly pleased with his response. "Deal. But beware, Caden, life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it," she teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement. With the deal struck and the banter still flowing, they continued their playful banter, their laughter echoing through the room.

As the conversation continued, Caden found himself slowly becoming more at ease. Despite his initial reluctance, the idea of attending the race with his sister no longer seemed entirely unbearable. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, this could turn out to be a memorable weekend. But for now, he would continue grumbling and eye-rolling, maintaining his grumpy exterior as much as possible. After all, he needed to uphold his reputation as a tough, no-nonsense guy.

The weekend finally arrived, and Caden found himself standing outside the entrance to Circuit of The Americas, surrounded by a boisterous crowd of racing fans. His sister stood beside him, bubbling with excitement, while Caden tried to maintain his indifferent facade.

As they made their way through the bustling crowd, Caden couldn't help feeling out of his element. The noise, the energy, the excitement - it was all so foreign to him.

But there was something oddly captivating about the atmosphere. The colorful team jerseys, the enthusiastic chants, the intoxicating scent of engine oil and gasoline. It was a different world completely, a world that his sister seemed completely enthralled by.

“Here,” Cadens sister said, handing him something. “What’s this? " he asked looking at the lanyard. “It’s a paddock pass” his sister says. Caden raised an eyebrow, his tone filled with skepticism. "A paddock pass? Seriously? I thought we were just going to watch the race like normal people."

His sister shot him a teasing smile. "Oh, come on, Caden. Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, how could I possibly ask you to accompany me to the race and not give you the full experience?"

Caden rolled his eyes, but a hint of curiosity piqued his interest. He had to admit, being in the paddock and getting up close with the race cars did sound somewhat intriguing, even though he tried hard to hide it.

“So what team hospitality will we be in?” Caden asked his sister. His sister's eyes lit up with excitement as she replied, "We'll be in the Red Bull hospitality. It's one of the best teams in the league right now, and their hospitality is legendary. We might even get a chance to meet some of the drivers!"

Caden couldn't help rolling his eyes once again. "Meet the drivers? Yeah, because that's what I want, to spend my day chatting with a bunch of pompous, adrenaline junkie billionaires." His sister laughed and playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Lighten up, Caden! You might find that these drivers are not as pompous as you think. They're human beings like us, dedicated to their passion and craft."

“Oh yeah like you and your bull riding? his sister says. Caden's expression hardened at the mention of his own profession. "Bull riding is a true test of skill and courage. Those bulls are unpredictable. It's a lot more than just sitting in a car and pressing pedals." His sister raised her hands in surrender, realizing she had inadvertently struck a nerve. "Alright, alright, I get it. Your bull riding is hardcore, no question. But you have to admit, those race car drivers have some serious skills too. It's not just about the speed, it's about precision, strategy, and the ability to handle these machines at insane speeds." Caden grumbled, still not entirely convinced. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Fine, maybe those drivers do have some talent or whatever. But I'll still stick to my horses and bulls, thank you very much."

As Caden stood among the crowd, a voice interrupted his thoughts. "You ride bulls?" The question came from behind him. Turning around, Caden was met by the sight of a man slightly shorter than himself. The man stood confidently, wearing a crisp Ferrari polo. However, it wasn't the polo that grabbed Caden's attention. What stood out was the curious fashion choice of the man - his jeans were tucked into his boots, making for an interesting appearance.

Caden couldn't help but stare in disbelief at the man's attire. He had certainly seen some unique fashion choices in his life, but jeans stuffed into boots inside boots – a cowboy style – was definitely not something he had come across before. It was a stark contrast to the formal dress code he had grown up with thanks to his father's strict ways.

"Yeah, I do ride bulls now and then," Caden replied, trying to compose himself and look away from the man's unusual boot situation.Caden’s sister gasped, tapping him on the shoulder trying to get his attention but she had no luck because he was still staring down at the man’s boots.

As Caden looked down at the man's boots, he could feel his sister nudge him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention. But his focus remained on the unusual boot situation before him. Feeling a sense of obligation, Caden kneeled down and swiftly fixed the man's jeans, ensuring they were properly positioned outside the boots.

"Jeans go on the outside of your boots," he advised, trying to keep his tone neutral but unable to resist a subtle hint of amusement in his voice.

The man looked utterly bewildered, clearly stunned by Caden's unexpected act. He glanced down at his boots and back up at Caden, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. "You... you fixed my boots?" he stammered, still processing the situation. Caden stood up, casually adjusting his own attire. "Yeah, sorry, man, but jeans stuffed into boots is just wrong," he replied with a shrug. "You gotta do it right if you're going to be in Texas and I’m surprised that everybody just let you walk around like that”

The man looked down at his boots once again, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I got carried away with the look," he admitted, unable to hide a sheepish smile. "Thanks for the correction, man." “I’m Charles” the man says introducing himself. Caden glanced up and met Charles eye-to-eye, offering a firm handshake. "Caden," he responded simply, his voice carrying a subtle hint of curiosity. There was something oddly magnetic about Charles' presence that intrigued him. "Are you a racing fan or just really into boot fashion?"

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "A bit of both, I suppose," he replied, his tone laced with a touch of playfulness. "Racing is my profession, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to rock this fashion statement."

Caden raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "Racing? as in F1?" he asked, his skepticism evident in his tone as he gestured towards the Ferrari emblem on Charles' polo. Charles nodded enthusiastically, a mixture of orgullo and enthusiasm evident in his expression. "Yeah, Formula 1, to be precise. I drive for Ferrari."

Caden's eyes widened slightly as he took in this newfound information. He had a feeling he was speaking with someone of significance within the racing world, but he hadn't anticipated just how significant. "Well, I'll be damned," Caden muttered, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I never thought I'd be fixing some posh Formula 1 driver's fashion faux pas."

Charles laughed heartily, clearly amused by Caden's remark. "Posh, huh? I guess you could say that," he replied with a light-hearted shrug. "But hey, fashion faux pas can happen to anyone, even F1 drivers." Caden rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced by Charles' self-deprecating remark. "Yeah, well, it's a good thing someone was around to fix it," he retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Imagine if you had been filmed walking around like that."

Charles nodded, his expression turning sheepish once again. "Yeah, I wouldn't have heard the end of it," he said with a chuckle. "Thanks for saving me there, Caden. I owe you one."

Caden waved a dismissive hand, trying to brush off the gratitude. "No biggie. Just doing my Texan duty to spread proper boot style." Charles' eyes widened with interest as he processed Caden's words. "You're a Texan, huh? That explains the boots. And the bulls, I assume?" he asked, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Caden chuckled, a subtle hint of pride in his voice. "Guilty as charged. Born and raised in Texas, where cowboys and bulls coexist. Though the bulls might have the upper hand sometimes." Charles let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Caden's remark. "Sounds like an interesting life you lead, Caden. Bulls and cowboys, huh? Maybe you could teach me a thing or two about handling those bulls. And I can teach you a thing or two about F1."

Caden raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "Oh, so you're offering lessons now, Mr. Fancy Formula 1 Driver? I'll consider it, but only if you promise not to bring back the boot fashion blunders."

Charles grinned, clearly enjoying the banter between them. "Deal. No more boot blunders from me, I promise," he agreed, holding out his hand for a mock handshake that Caden reluctantly returned. "And who knows? Maybe you'll end up enjoying the racing world more than you think.”

Caden playfully rolled his eyes, masking his intrigue. "Right, sure. I'm sure the racing world and I will become fast friends. Just as soon as you convince me it's not just a bunch of millionaires driving in circles." Charles couldn't help but chuckle at Caden's remark. "No worries, I won't force you into a racing suit. But I do hope you'll enjoy your day and the race," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

Suddenly, someone called out to Charles from a distance, drawing his attention away. "I have to go, but it was great meeting you, Caden. Maybe we'll see each other later." Caden nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Likewise, Charles. Take care of those boots, and yourself. And try not to crash in the race, alright?" "I'll do my best,” Charles replied with a wink, offering a playful salute as he turned to leave. As he walked away, Caden found himself stealing a quick glance at the shortened jeans, still feeling the lingering impact of the brief encounter.

As Caden watched Charles walk away, his sister appeared at his side, a knowing smile on her face. "Making friends already, huh?" she teased playfully, nudging him with her elbow. Caden rolled his eyes, trying to feign nonchalance, but a faint blush creeped over his cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous. I just fixed the guy's boots. It's not like we're best friends now." His sister laughed, seeing right through his attempt to play it cool. "Right, right. Fixing someone's boots is the classic Texan move for making friends," she jested, a mischievous twinkle in her eye."Oh, shut it,” Caden grumbled, feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. "I just didn't want him walking around like a fashion disaster, alright? That's all there was to it." His sister just grinned wider, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Whatever you say, big brother.“

Caden scowled at her, knowing he had inadvertently given her ammunition to tease him about for the rest of the weekend. "Just great. Now I'll never hear the end of this" he muttered under his breath. His sister laughed, clearly amused by her brother's annoyance. "Oh, don't worry, Caden. I'll make sure to keep reminding you of this little boot-fixing episode. It's not every day you get to impress a Formula 1 driver with your Texas manners." Caden let out a long-suffering sigh, resigning himself to the fact that his sister would always be there to remind him of his embarrassing moments. "I should have known better than to step foot in this racing-crazed world. It's like a magnet for embarrassing situations" he grumbled.

As Caden and his sister made their way towards the stands, the atmosphere grew more intense. Cheerleaders performed acrobatic routines, bands played upbeat music, and fans wore colorful shirts and hats representing their favorite teams. The energy was palpable, and Caden couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Remind me again why I agreed to come to this madness," he groaned to his sister as the two of them walked to the red bull hospitality and garage.

"Because you secretly love it," his sister teased with a knowing grin. "You’re just too stubborn to admit it."Caden huffed in playful annoyance but couldn't keep the corner of his lips from curving into a small smile. He secretly enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere, despite his initial reluctance. As they entered the Red Bull Hospitality, Caden's eyes darted around, taking in the luxurious interior adorned with the team's signature bulls and crimson red colors. The atmosphere was a whirlwind of chatter and laughter as fans mingled and enjoyed food from various catering tables.

Caden's sister seemed to be in her element, effortlessly striking up conversations with fellow fans and basking in the buzz of excitement. Caden, on the other hand, found himself feeling a bit out of place. He stuck to the sidelines and observed the scene unfolding before him in silence. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, a sudden change in the atmosphere caught Caden's attention. The fans around them erupted into cheers and applause, their gazes fixed on something or someone behind him. Curiosity piqued, Caden turned around to see what had caused the commotion. Standing amidst the whirlwind of commotion was Daniel Ricciardo, the charming Australian driver with a contagious smile. His presence commanded the attention of everyone around him, and the crowd seemed to gravitate towards him like moths to a flame.

Caden's heart skipped a beat as he laid eyes on Daniel's captivating presence. There was something magnetic about him, an undeniable charisma that drew people in, and Caden found himself strangely drawn to it. His sister noticed the way Caden's gaze lingered on Daniel, and a sly smile curved her lips. "Seems like you've found someone interesting," she teased, nudging him gently with her elbow. Caden snapped out of his momentary trance and quickly composed himself, trying to mask his interest in Daniel. "What? No, I was just observing," he replied, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanor but failing miserably.

His sister arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reaction. "Observing, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?" She teased softly, her eyes twinkling with playfulness. Caden grumbled under his breath and turned away, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I was just admiring the whole circus, that's all," he muttered, but his sister saw right through his denial.

She laughed softly, clearly amused by her brother's subtle interest. "Whatever you say, Caden. Just don't deny that you're intrigued by the charm of that Aussie driver and besides he’s your type.” His sister rolled her eyes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Oh, come on, Caden. Don't act like you can hide it. All those guys you've had little flings with over the years, tall, charming, and charismatic. Seems like Daniel Ricciardo ticks all those boxes for you." Caden shot her a glare, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at her astute observation. "Shut it," he muttered between gritted teeth. "I'm not interested in him. And even if I were, there's a zero percent chance he'd look my way."

His sister shrugged nonchalantly, clearly enjoying teasing her older brother. "Who knows? People surprise you sometimes. And who says you're not his type?" Her mischievous grin seemed to suggest that she had a few ideas up her sleeve. Caden gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar frustration and annoyance that always surfaced whenever his sister played matchmaker in his life. "Leave it, alright? We're here to enjoy the race, not discuss my non-existent love life," he huffed, hoping to put an end to the conversation. His sister chuckled, sensing her brother's discomfort. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it for now. But just remember, life's too short to hold back from what you want," she said, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before sauntering off to explore the hospitality area.

As his sister vanished into the crowd, Caden let out a frustrated sigh, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. He cast a quick glance around, his eyes landing on Daniel once again, who was engrossed in conversation with a group of fans a few feet away. Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, Caden couldn't resist stealing discreet glances at Daniel. There was an inexplicable allure about him that drew Caden in, a magnetic charm that transcended the realm of racing. He couldn't shake off the subtle flutter in his chest every time he laid eyes on him. It was a confusing mix of intrigue and unease, and Caden couldn't help but question the strange pull he felt towards the captivating Australian driver. As he continued to observe Daniel, Caden couldn’t help but notice the effortless way he interacted with fans. Daniel's smile was genuine, and he engaged with each person with warmth and enthusiasm. Caden's heart thumped against his chest as he watched, and the thought that he could ever even approach such a vibrant and charming individual seemed far-fetched. He silently chastised himself for allowing his imagination to run wild.

Just when Caden was lost in his thoughts, Daniel glanced in his direction, their eyes locking for a brief moment before Caden swiftly averted his gaze. His heart raced, and a wave of nerves washed over him, silently cursing his awkward demeanor. It was in that fleeting glance that Caden felt a connection, a strange recognition that sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this encounter than just a casual glance. The moment was brief, but it left an indelible mark on Caden's mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if Daniel had felt it too. The thought tormented him, making him question everything he thought he knew about his own feelings and desires. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within him, Caden knew that this chance encounter had stirred something deep within him, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

The rest of the time at the hospitality area went by in a blur for Caden as they mingled with fans and enjoyed the pre-race festivities. He tried to keep his mind occupied, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the brief connection he had felt with Daniel. As the race grew closer and the crowd became more hyped, Caden's anticipation to witness Daniel in action slowly replaced his initial apprehension.

As they made their way to their seats, Caden found himself torn between excitement and anxiety. Every time Daniel's name was announced over the loudspeaker, Caden's heart raced, and a mixture of nerves and anticipation swirled within his stomach. He had never felt such a strong connection to someone, especially someone he barely knew, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to this inexplicable pull he felt towards the captivating driver.

The race started, and Caden was immediately immersed in the frenzy of engines revving and tires screeching against the track. The energy of the crowd was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the excitement of the competition. His sister leaned over, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know, Daniel Ricciardo is leading the race so far. He's quite the skilled driver," she remarked, subtly trying to gauge Caden's reaction. Caden's heart skipped a beat as he heard the news, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirling within him. He tried to play it off coolly, shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, he's not bad," he replied, trying to keep his emotions in check. "But it's a long race, anything can happen," he added, hoping his sister wouldn't pick up on the newfound interest in his voice.

As the race continued, Caden found himself glued to every move Daniel made, his heart racing with every pass and overtake. He couldn't help but admire the confidence and skill with which Daniel navigated the track, seemingly unfazed by the intense competition. Caden's sister noticed his unwavering attention and let out a soft chuckle.

"Looks like you have a favorite driver now," she teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "He's quite captivating, isn't he?" Caden playfully shoved her shoulder, trying to lighten the situation. "Shut it, you. I just appreciate good racing," he protested, though he couldn't deny the undeniable charm that Daniel exuded both on and off the track. The race continued to unfold, and Caden watched with a mixture of anticipation and dread as the leading positions changed hands numerous times. The race was on a knife's edge, with Daniel still firmly in contention. As the laps neared their end, Caden felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He couldn't help but feel invested in Daniel's performance, his heart racing with each turn and overtake.

As the final lap commenced, Caden's heart pounded against his ribcage, the tension palpable in the air. His eyes were fixated on Daniel's car, watching as it navigated through the curves and bends of the track. The race was nearing its climax, and the suspense was unbearable. Caden found himself involuntarily clenching his fists, silently cheering Daniel on.

The final minutes were a flurry of excitement and anticipation, and Caden's heart skipped a beat as Daniel took the checkered flag, securing first place. The crowd erupted into a roaring applause, and Caden found himself smiling despite his earlier reservations. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for the captivating driver who had managed to capture his attention like no one else had before. As Daniel's car slowed to a stop and he climbed out, waving to the cheering crowd, Caden's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help but stare, captivated by the magnetic aura that surrounded Daniel. There was something about him that transcended the realm of racing he was charismatic, talented, and undeniably charming.Caden felt that strange pull towards him, a connection that he couldn't explain but couldn't ignore.

His sister, who had observed his reactions throughout the race, gently nudged him once again. "Looks like you're hopelessly smitten with the race winner," she teased, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Caden snapped out of his temporary stupor, quickly regaining his composure. "Smitten? Hardly. I just appreciate good driving," he retorted, dismissing her statement with a casual wave of his hand. However, the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his attempts to downplay his true feelings. His sister smirked, clearly not buying his denial. "Sure, just ‘appreciating' his driving skills, right?" she teased, her words dripping with playful sarcasm. Caden rolled his eyes, secretly flustered by her teasing yet unable to deny the magnetic pull he felt towards the charismatic race winner.

As the crowd started to thin out and the excitement began to subside, Caden found himself feeling a mix of emotions. There was a strange combination of anticipation and dread building within him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Despite his best efforts to push the thought away, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever cross paths with Daniel again. He was pulled out of his reverie by his sister's soft voice. "You know, you've been watching him like a hawk. I never thought you'd be this interested in a race," she commented, a teasing lilt in her words. Caden shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "I just appreciate good driving, that's all. He's a talented driver." But he couldn't hide the fact that his heart was beating erratically in his chest at the mere mention of Daniel.

As they made their way out of the hospitality and towards the parking lot, Caden's mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the charming race winner. He tried to dismiss the persistent flutter in his heart as mere adrenaline, but deep down, he knew there was more to it. Little did he know that the night had a surprise in store for him

[jeyusos-girl]

Jealousy x2

a/n: hey guys 🤭🤭 im baaaackkk

prompt: “I don’t like them all looking at you.” (credit to @creativepromptsforwriting)

warnings: none

word count: 521

❤️❤️❤️

“Guys as I told you, he’s my friend. It was a friendly compliment,” Y/N sighed, as she changed into comfy clothes.

“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t see the look on his face when he said it,” Jey grumbled. 

Jimmy agreed, mumbling something under his breath, too low for Y/N to hear. Y/N looked over to where the twins sat in the corner of the locker room. She smiled at their grumpy faces before walking over and plopping down on Jey’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

After a successful title defense, Y/N returned backstage to greet her two boys. Before she got a chance, Austin Theory gave her a hug and congratulated her, but not before paying her a seemingly innocent compliment.

“You looked great out there!”

Y/N walked up to her boys, and immediately she knew they saw and heard everything. She noted the sour looks on their faces, and Jey cracking his knuckles. She rolled her eyes, dragging them to their locker room before they did something they would regret.

As innocent as it sounded, they knew better. They know the kind of guy Austin is, young, cocky, thinks he’s God’s greatest gift to women. But Y/N was their woman, everyone knows that. 

“Look, I get it. But there’s no reason to be jealous, he says that to everyone. Hell, he's even said it to you two!” 

“First of all, we’re not jealous. Second, like Jey said, you didn’t see the way he looked at you. I’m a man, I know that look. He wants you, and I know damn well he ain’t the only one.” Jimmy crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

“Yeah, he’s right, I don’t like them all looking at you,” Jey said, arm tightening around her waist. 

“Oh please, tell me again how you aren’t jealous,” Y/N chuckled, “I don’t care how anybody else looks at me. I’m not anybody else’s but yours,” Y/N reached over to grab Jimmy’s hand, gaining his attention. She smiled kissing his hand.

“And yours.” she leaned over planting a kiss on Jey’s cheek.

The boy's facial expressions softened when looking at her. Jey sighed heavily as he rubbed soothing circles on her hip.

“You have no reason to be jealous of Austin, you two are the only men I need in my life,”

“Yeah, you right. Maybe we’re overreacting, I’m sorry baby. ” Jey mumbled.

“I'm sorry too mama,” Jimmy leaned over and captured her lips in a sweet kiss.

“It’s okay, I understand. Let’s just go back to the hotel so I can finally have you two all to myself,” she stood up, gathering her bags. As she bent down to grab her last bag she felt a sharp slap on her backside. 

“Hey!” she laughed seeing Jey raise his hands in defense, mumbling a half-hearted ‘my bad’.

“Aye, don’t touch my girl like that,” Jimmy joked pushing Jey around. Y/N shook her head as the twins proceeded to argue about who Y/N liked more.

“If you two dont hurry the hell up you're both sleeping on the floor!”