Hello my lovelies! I hope you had a fun and safe New Years Eve! I wanted to make a little post just showing my appreciation for the last year on Tumblr! I will admit that I am not the best at re-blogging posts that I love. Usually I'm reading between classes, assignments, or right before bed and don't often take the time to share my thoughts on some of the incredible literature on this site. With that being said, I wanted to make this post highlighting some of my favorite works, authors, and stories of 2024. As with all things of this nature, I am very sure some things got left out. This is in no way a comprehensive list of all the works I have enjoyed this year, but just a few I wanted to highlight. If I am in your likes or following, trust that I love and appreciate your presence. So without further ado...Here is Jay's 2024 Tumblr Favorites!
First and foremost is my favorite (only) big sis, of course. If you have not stumbled upon @ladylooch 's blog yet, you are missing a vital part of life. Her AUs are a literal rabbit hole. I started reading about Nico Hischier and I am now emotionally invested in the lives of two original character's and their love story. I love everything B publishes, but this year she gave us a beautiful new story of love and loss, and exploring that world with her has been the highlight of my year. Head over to her blog and jump into an AU, literally any of them. You won't regret it.
@puck-luck...guys. Andy is INSANE!!!! Everything she puts out is delicious, but I specifically fell in love with her 'New Beginnings' series this year and cannot recommend it enough. I don't even like Trevor Zegras like that y'all, but Andy is a literary genius so I fell in love. I have to save her writing for when I am home & in bed because I WILLLLL have a physical reaction. I kiss your brain, Andy girl. Mwah mwah mwah.
@star2fishmeg and @wineauntie , MEG AND IVY! My (sub) Luke Hughes loves and the leaders of the sub! Luke agenda. GOD!! I love you. Your writing, of course. But I also love that you share my most unhinged sentiments about Mr. Baby Hughes. Check out their blogs, friends. The vibes are good and the writing is even better.
This next one...you guysssss...@tkwrites. TK's 'Snap Shot' series had me HOOKED all year. I love Sarah and Quinn. The emotional turmoil and angst mixed with the heartfelt romance is a complex masterpiece. PLEASE go check it out if you're a Quinn Hughes enjoyer, or an enjoyer of good fiction. Also sub! Quinn agenda!!!!
@theemporium!!! I eat up everything my girl Cece writes, but Luke and Cherry specifically had me by the throat this year. Go read 'The Mortifying Ordeal of Being a 20 Year Old Virgin' NOWWW! RIGHT NOW!!
@mikkomacko...you GENIUSSS. Mob Boss Nico Hischier. Need I say more? I don't think so. If I could have a real Tumblr wrapped, part 4 & 5 of that series would be my most reread fics for 2024 I promise you. The dynamic of Nico and reader, bestie Timo, baby Alex (RIP, give him back Vegas). It is all perfect girly pop. Everyone go read.
I started reading for Will Smith this year because @yankstrash and I cannot be normal about Boston College hockey. @peachhcs Will Smith AU gave me everything I needed and MORE. I can't decide if I want to be Samy or be WITH Samy. They are just sooo *heart eyes*. Also Sub! Will agenda. (Damn, can y'all see a pattern?) Em, I love you and your work. Keep it up lovely.
Alrighty, that about sums it up. I know there is a million more authors and fics I missed, but these have been in the forefront of my mind for a long while. I hope you have all had the best holidays, and here is to another great year of escaping reality with y'all in 2025!! MWAH!
Can we talk about the Davey and Connor press conferences around those Cup series?
“Wood! Carlson! You’re up next for media!” Ian, the PR manager bellows out into the locker room as he walks by, typing furiously on his phone.
“Bro, we’re right fucking here.” Connor mutters at the volume while untying his skates.
“Yeah, but your two skulls are a little thick. Gotta make sure you hear.” Ian smirks, continuing through the locker room at the same fast pace.
“Where is he always going that fast?” Connor asks David, balling up the tape from his shin pads and tossing it towards the garbage. It bounces off the rim and Connor sighs.
“Probably outrunning the lies he’s spinning.” David shrugs, leaning back in his locker.
“The finals haven’t stared yet. What could he be spinning?” Connor asks, kicking his skates off.
“Who fucking knows.” David shrugs, typing on his phone. A big grin stretches across his face before he turns the phone screen to his D partner. “Look at this ham.”
It’s a picture of Nicky at the splash pad, wet bucket hat drooping down over his face as he squeals about the water being sprinkled at him by a makeshift rain cloud. Big dimples pierce his cheeks, mirroring the man he is named after perfectly.
“Man, that’s a cute fucking kid. Good thing you two changed your minds.”
“Yeah.” David murmurs happily.
“Winnie told me the other day that Nicky is her favorite Hischier.” David laughs.
“She told me that too.”
“We’re not correcting the last name there?” Connor asks.
“I mean, he is a Hischier. And he’s got those big divots in his cheek telling the world that too.”
“You used to care about that a lot.”
“Before we met, yeah. Now he’s mine no matter what. I don’t need him to have my name like I used to.”
“Growing up right before my eyes.” Connor wipes an imaginary tear.
The two defensemen work on getting the rest of their gear off before putting on their warm up outfits. Then, with electrolytes in hand, they make the short walk to the media room. The reporters are still waiting for them, leftover from coach’s series opening interview. Connor adjusts the cap on his hat as he sits, murmuring a good morning to the crowd.
The group doesn’t hesitate, all of them having deadlines and stories to write.
“Connor, talk to us a bit about what being back here means to this group.”
“It’s special. Obviously for us every year this is the end goal. We have worked hard to end up at this point and we are looking forward to finishing the job. We obviously have history in our franchise with this series, including with us being on the roster, but none of that matters. It’s a different team, a new opponent too, and we have to be ready from puck drop.”
“David, What do you feel like is different about this time around. Obviously, your defensive partner is the captain now, but what benefit does that leadership have to the group now.”
“Woody is a very important part of our group. We wouldn’t be here without him. Now, having him leading us after already winning a cup, it’s a huge advantage for us going into this series. Every year, each team, is something different. Each season is it’s own story, so we’ll see what character our group has for Game 1.”
A reporter Connor remembers from his time with the Devils butts into the conversation. It’s weird seeing him here because Connor has only ever seen him associated with the Devils, but he doesn’t put much stock into it at first.
“Your father-in-law is Nico Hischier, who won a cup during his career with the Devils. What advice has he given you that plays into your leadership style today?”
“Yeah, I mean, Nico is one of the best players to play the game and we’re both lucky to have him as a sounding board. Nico is great at letting us play the game the way that we want to and I would say he does the same thing with me being a leader of this group. So, yeah, we’ve talked about some things and he’s given me advice, but he also encourages me to be my own captain and I appreciate that.”
“Even though you play on a rival team now, do you feel being a captain in this league has strengthened your relationship?”
“Yeah for sure. There is a select group of NHL players, past and present, who know what it’s like to lead a franchise with this type of weight on your shoulders. I certainly leaned on Nico a lot in my first year or so as captain, but it’s also important for me to carve my own path. I think that’s something that has been a focus for me my entire career too after following in my dad and grandfather’s footsteps.” Connor makes sure to mention his dad, knowing he’ll be a tad irked if he isn’t associated with Connor’s career but Nico is. His dad regularly makes comments about people seemingly thinking he is Nico’s son.
“Does Nico have a hard time cheering for you boys when you play?” The guy continues. David and Connor share a brief glance of ‘what the heck’ before their expressions smooth out again.
“No.” Connor laughs, resisting his eye roll.
“Really? A Devil in the Ring of Honor willingly cheers for the Rangers?”
“I mean, he worn a Rangers jersey earlier this year on the mentors trip, so yeah. I think he’s fine with it.”
“Sure, but is it safe to say he was disappointed in the way your career ended with the Devils?”
Whoa.
Connor literally bites his tongue, feeling his shoulders and legs go rigid with frustration. He has worked hard to move past his own disappointment with how things ended in Jersey. It’s unexpected to be faced with questions about that when he is in the middle of pursuing his second Stanley Cup with a different franchise.
“You’d need to ask him that question.” Connor looks away from the guy, scanning the room and hoping that the topic of conversation will shift. The focus on Nico is uncomfortable and Connor senses this guy has a nefarious angle, trying to get him to stumble over some nonexistent familial issue for a headline.
“Damn.” David interjects. “The Devils didn’t even make the playoffs this year, but they’re getting more of your attention than us. I can call Lio Meier up if you need a quote, bud?”
“Just trying to keep the metro division rivalry alive.” The guy shrugs as if he isn’t purposefully stirring the pot.
“No need. The Devils are worried about their tee times and we’re playing for the cup.” David continues, swirling his tongue over his back teeth. “Sarah, what do you got? Get us back on track here.” Sarah smiles, hiding her laughter with a cough before tossing a softball.
“The NHL season has a lot of ups and downs in it. This year it was the same for the team. What about this group of players has allowed for you all to be resilient in a way prior teams weren’t?”
“Well, I said it earlier and I’ll say it again- we have great leaders. Winning is a top down mentality in our organization. From ownership to the coaching staff to Woody, we have the right people in the right positions that encourage us to be successful. We’re lucky the Devils fumbled Woody so we could know success at this level here in New York.”
The room chuckles, Connor included.
The tension eases after that. The guy hounding Connor goes quiet, talked over at certain points by other more seasoned reports as well. It’s clear he stepped outside of a line and no one is entertaining his angle anymore.
When the press conference wraps, David and Connor head back to the locker room together.
“What a weirdo.” Connor mutters.
“He’s just bored because the Devils season ended too soon.”
“You know people are going to twist you bringing up Lio.”
“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t give a shit. I’ll never pass up an opportunity to put Lio in his place.” Connor laughs.
“Might want to call him and smooth that over before he catches wind of it.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s still kind of an asshole and he’s probably going to take exception.”
“I’ll send my wife after him. She’s been sniffing for a fight lately. Getting a little bored with all the stability I provide her.”
Connor lets out a deep chuckle.
“That guy should have asked about how we brat tamed Nico’s two daughters. That’s the real story.”
“We didn’t tame shit.” David snorts.
Connor looks over at him as he steps into the warm stream of his shower head.
“You didn’t know Lucie before me.” Connor says, cocky and smirking. “A rebellious Swiss princess who needed a strong captain to guide her ship.”
“That’s what we’re calling teen pregnancy these days?”
“Fuck off. She was 22.”
“Yeah, 22 year olds make good choices.”
“Are you forgetting how old Mack was when she met you?”
“Oh fuck.” David laughs, rubbing soap into his chest hair. He holds his body wash bottle up to Woody in a cheers. “To 22 year olds and their choices.”
“Proscht.” Connor knocks their bottles together.
He can’t wait to get him and squeeze his best choice yet.
As we enter 2026, a lot of people will be posting their wins and accomplishments from 2025. Social media will be flooded with photo dumps and stories of people sharing their museums of successes for the year. If this is you, congratulations! You deserve to celebrate your hard-earned accomplishments and I am wishing you the best in 2026.
But if that is not you...I see you. As the year turns, some of us are thanking a higher being that it is over. Some of us just survived. And that is okay. I was MIA from Tumblr for most of 2025, but I felt like this needed to be said. Even if it just echoed into the void.
2025 was not the year for me. I experienced loss on all levels. Friendship, love, and family. But most importantly, myself. I have not felt like me for a long time. I have felt disconnect and disassociated. Like I am watching things happen TO me instead of actively experiencing them. I have felt simultaneously numb and out of control with my emotions. I have grappled with change that I was not ready to experience, and fought against it tooth and nail. I have felt out of balance.
I don't enjoy expressing my emotions on the internet, and I don't do so to earn pity. But I think a lot of us struggled this year. If you resonate with any of this, I hope 2026 is kind to you. I hope you feel a little less lonely in your emotions and experiences as people share their wins. I hope you find your way back to yourself and experience the plethora of love that I know you deserve.
Here's to improvement, connection, and peace in 2026.
for full immersion: listen to 'private show' by little mix! ps. this is in honor of the game tonight <3 gl lu
original ask: "I took a pole dancing class last time I was in Vegas and let me tell you, luke would be all over that reward. You have to sit him in a chair after a game and handcuff him to the back of the seat because you know he won't be able to stop himself from touching you. And you give him the show of a lifetime while always having to remind him that he's your good boy when he tries to break free or kiss you before you say it's okay. Until finally, you're sitting on his lap in just your underwear when you unlock the handcuffs and he goes absolutely feral. You can't believe how quick he went from sitting down to having you on your back with your legs around his shoulders screaming his name." as always... i strayed from the original ask but kept the essence <3
warnings: tw: golden knights, semi-public sex, stripping, pole dancing, unprotected p in v, lap dancing, dry humping, size kink ish
pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader
word count: 2,458
Your favorite time of the year is when Luke plays the Golden Knights in Vegas. It’s become a tradition for you to head out early and meet up with some friends for a few days, then meet Luke at the hotel after his game. Last year was a terrible time, with Jack’s injury affecting Luke more than he could let on. You were glad to be there when Luke needed you– able to pet through his hair and hold him to your chest as he shivered from the memory of his brother knocked limp on the ice. You’re not sure if he’ll have the same reaction to Vegas this time around, facing off against the Golden Knights for the first time since Jack’s injury, so you’ve planned something special.
Your hotel has a fitness room on the ground floor. Attached to it is a little dance studio with strips of LED lights and massive mirrors surrounding a few silver stripper poles. You and your girlfriends booked a private pole dancing class on Sunday night and you booked a second, personalized session on Tuesday that had you huffing and puffing and more sore than you’ve ever been before– all for Luke.
You drag him downstairs after his game, a successful faceoff with the Golden Knights without injury. Luke is tired, but the soft kind of tired that has him smiling at you with hooded eyes as he puts up with your excitement. You open the door to the room, peeking your head through the doorway to make sure it’s actually empty before you pull Luke through and shut it behind you. You turn the deadbolt on the door, knowing that only someone with a physical key can unlock it now. You lug a chair from the corner of the room to a spot right in front of one of the poles and tell Luke to sit down.
His body flops down on the wooden surface, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee. Luke crosses his arms over his chest and smiles crookedly, his head lolling to one side. “What are you planning, baby?”
You plant your hands on Luke’s chest and push him back, his spine flush with the back of the chair. “The girls and I signed up for a class,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently at Luke. “I want to show you what I learned.”
“Mm, give me your worst,” Luke muses, his eyes roaming over your long legs.
You’re in one of Luke’s big shirts, a thin sports bra, and leopard print bicycle shorts, but you’re quick to pull Luke’s shirt off. You like the way his eyes widen. Behind the pole, there’s a remote that controls the lights: you turn them down and change the LEDs to the darkest pink you can find. The shadows on your body are darker than dark and your skin reflects the neon light.
You stretch in front of the mirror, the pole between you and it. Luke stays seated behind, like a good boy, and you plan to reward him for it. Well, there’s a chance your reward feels like a tease… but you think Luke will like it.
You spread your legs in a wide V and reach to your left, touching your toes. You switch to your right, then walk your hands across the floor until they’re planted on the ground in front of you. You can look at Luke through your legs if you crane your neck and, as predicted, Luke’s eyes are squarely planted on the gusset of your spandex. You wrap your hands around the pole before you, fist over fist until your hands are above your head.
Twisting around to face Luke, you tilt your head down and smile at him. “You ready?”
Luke hums, his eyebrows dancing as he smirks. He’s in his comfy clothes, a post-game outfit you know well: tight Devils joggers, a Michigan hockey t-shirt that fit well when he was a baby freshman but is far too small now. A sliver of his belly shows when he lifts a hand to scratch his head, mussing the mostly-dry curls you like so much.
You step around the pole, feeling it out for a moment before kicking your legs out and spinning around the pole in a Fireman Spin, knees touching the silver rod and both hands on the smooth surface. You land with bent knees, straightening out as seductively as you can before performing your next move: a “cartwheel,” where you hold onto the pole and bring your legs up and around.
You feel a little silly dancing without music, but Luke’s rapt attention keeps you going. You complete a short routine, one you put together with your instructor in yesterday’s session. It’s brief, but it puts together everything you learned into a five-minute show for Luke.
He claps for you when you finish circling the pole, bringing a beam to your face. “Amazing,” Luke says.
“Show’s not over yet,” you reply. You cross the room and put your hands on Luke’s knees, your face level with his. You brush your lips against his.
Luke puckers his thin lips, the extra millimeter of reach allowing him to capture your mouth in a real, brief kiss. He smiles into it, proud of himself for catching you, and you indulge him. You kiss him back for a moment before coyly breaking from him. You cradle his cheek and turn, your hand moving to the back of his neck. Your head tips back on Luke’s shoulder and your hips start to move.
You swivel and gyrate, bottom touching his lap although you’re not seated on it. Luke’s legs are spread wide enough that you can stand between them. The fabric of his joggers is tight around his crotch, his interest in your touch and movements palpable. You hum in the back of your throat and slide your hand into Luke’s curls, pulling them gently. Touching Luke’s curls is the equivalent of revving his engine.
His mouth descends on your neck, wet and sloppy kisses painting your skin. His hands grasp your body, a hand skimming down your waist and the other coming up to linger at the base of your neck. Luke mumbles a curse against your jaw when you wiggle in place, his cock the victim of compounding layers of friction: your motions and the contortion of his clothing against your body. It feels too good. He lifts his lower half into yours and you dance away.
“Baby,” Luke complains, a pout on his lips.
You smile at him and fix your hands on the hem of his t-shirt, dragging it up over his head and tossing it to the side. You run your hands over his muscles. You touch his soft, unclenched pecs and his forever firm stomach. You kiss his pale skin, all the way past his belly button. Your bottom lip hovers at the waistband of his thin joggers, breath washing out over his happy trail.
Luke’s mouth hangs open slightly, his eyes swirling with lust.
You stand to your full height and continue dancing in front of him, your hands traipsing over your body in a way you hope is sexy. You touch the swell of your breast and make a soft noise when your fingers glance over your nipples. You gather your hair over your head and allow it to drop back over your shoulders, the unruly strands messing further. When you finally allow Luke to really touch you, he’ll make it worse.
You start to shed your shorts, pushing them down slowly. You sway your hips and turn away from Luke, bending like before but with your legs together this time. He has the perfect view of your no-show cotton thong, a dark gray that turns black in the LED pink lights. You’re still covered. Luke can see so much, but not everything– and that drives him crazy.
You can tell by the noise he makes. It’s a low moan, disapproving in a knowing way.
Luke’s smiling when you turn back to face him. His teeth glint, that crooked grin you love so much on full display.
You smile back, hooking your thumbs in your panties and smoothing the folded edges out. You then shrug the shoulders of your sports bra off, removing it carefully, eyes on Luke’s reaction. When your tits come free, his teeth dig into his bottom lip. His hand twitches against his stomach, moving down until he can cup himself over his pants.
You share a look with him then. He wills you forward, massaging himself and releasing a slow breath. He conveys how much your little dance affected him with that indulgent touch. Your satisfaction is evident, a small giggle escaping you.
You climb onto Luke’s lap when you’re close enough, arms curling around his neck and mouth molding to his. Your hips rock unconsciously, finding the insistent press of his length.
Big hands knead your asscheeks, Luke’s grip pulling you into him. He holds you on his cock, guiding your grinding. You can feel him through the fabric, the ridge of his tip all the way down the vein to his base. You feel warmth flooding your cunt, slick gathering in your panties. Luke leaks precum too, each blurt seeping into his boxers and joggers.
Like predicted, one of Luke’s hands presses up your spine and reaches your hair. He fists it, kisses growing fierce. His tongue invades your mouth sensually, coaxing you to react.
“Baby,” he groans into your mouth.
“Lu,” you reply breathlessly.
He touches you everywhere, kisses you everywhere. You feel drunk on his attention, surrounded by him in every way. You don’t know how he does it, because you never feel like you part with his cock, but he manages to get his pants and boxers down and shift your panties to the side. His cockhead slides past your entrance and you’re suddenly bouncing on his cock, wet slapping of skin on skin joining your loud keens.
Luke grunts on his exhale, his eyes fixing on a point past your ear. You know instinctually that he’s staring at your body in the mirror. You can see him register the space where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears into your wanting pussy. He fucks you harder, encourages you to arch your back so he can see you. He spreads your cheeks and releases a strangled moan, tearing his eyes away from the sight so he can kiss you again.
You whimper into his mouth and feel your eyelashes flutter with pleasure. You feel impossibly full, impossibly wanted by the boy beneath you. He’s perfect in every way and the chemistry between you physically is unmatched. You never knew it could be this good with someone, in every way.
“Angel,” Luke gasps. He whispers the word into your skin. “Fuck. Not gonna last, you’re so fucking–”
“Luke,” you cry out, his cock hitting your sweet spot and unleashing a torrent of pleasure through your body. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck–”
“Yeah,” he agrees, pounding into you through your orgasm. “Yeah, baby, let it go, so fucking tight, gonna come in this sweet cunt.”
“Please, oh, Luke,” you moan, shivering in his grasp. You bear down on him and tangle your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, kisses loose and breath wet. As you begin to rock your hips in shorter movements, you pout impatiently against his lips.
He lets out a breath of a laugh and seizes your throat with one hand, bringing your focus back to the dance of your mouths. Luke bucks his hips, using your spent pussy. He chases his pleasure, eyes rolling back and head dropping. You suck a mark on the side of his neck, his thrusts stuttering and thighs spasming as cum spurts from his cock and coats your insides.
You clench down on him, milking each drop from his thick length. Your swollen clit is flush with his pelvis, the pressure making your head spin. Luke isn’t far from giving you another orgasm, but he’s too spent to go on and you’re delirious. You hum in his ear, breathing rhythmically in time with his own panting.
Luke’s fingers are reverent against your sides, his cock softening inside of you. It starts to slip from your pussy, so you remove yourself. Luke hisses at the sudden movement, reluctantly letting go of you as you stand next to the chair on wobbly legs. You almost fall over on your first step toward the bag you brought down in case this exact thing happened and Luke’s hand flies back to your hip to steady you. He eyes you, head tilted back on the top rail of the chair.
You fish a wipe out of your bag and tell Luke to look away, cleaning yourself up when he does. You toss him a fresh pair of boxers, hitting him on the back of the head with the balled up fabric.
He laughs and stands, swapping out his clothing before advancing on you, right as you pull his big t-shirt back on. He catches you by the hips and pulls you in, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose.
“Good surprise,” Luke compliments sweetly, grabby hands roaming over your torso. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” you chirp back, lacing your fingers with Luke’s and fixing your outfit. You pick up your bag and go to swing it over your shoulder, Luke intercepting it and carrying it over his.
“I hope not,” Luke says as you turn the deadbolt and peek out into the main fitness room, which is luckily empty. You can sneak through and hope no one catches you in your shame, appearances thrown completely askew. “I’m getting you a pole for Christmas.”
You throw him an offended look over your shoulder. “You haven’t gotten me anything for Christmas yet?”
Luke waves you off. “Neither here nor there.”
“God, what does a girl have to do to get a gift around here?” you scoff sarcastically, teasing Luke. “First you don’t tip the dancer, then you don’t get me anything for Christmas? Some boyfriend you are.”
“You didn’t tell me to bring my ones!” Luke laughs. You make it to the elevator and he crowds behind you as you press the button.
“Here I was, thinking you’d like to choose where you put your money,” you continue, sighing heavily. “The patron gets to choose if it goes in your bra or your panties.”“Give me another dance and I’ll shower you in cash,” Luke promises, kissing under your ear. “Your bra and panties will be bursting.”
A/N: I don’t know y’all… I can’t stop thinking about Joe Burrow with his pregnant wife, so here we are again. Give me a confidently cocky man and I will make him a daddy.
Summary: The Bengals are in the AFC Championship game and unbeknownst to their star quarterback, his wife is in labor with their first child.
Warnings: discussions of birth but no graphic descriptions
Word count: 3.8k
As a professional quarterback’s wife, there are certain roles and responsibilities assigned to me based on the title.
I’m expected to be on his arm at any large team charity events.
I’m expected to be a captain to the other wives and girlfriends, welcoming them to the team with a cheerful text and a bag of goodies to get them settled in Cincinnati.
I’m expect to be at every single game, regardless of how pregnant I am. Actually, especially because I’m that pregnant, I better be seen extra. The NFL is a family show as we all know.
I’m expected to be dressed to the nines, yet not in his jersey as I kiss him good luck on the sidelines before the division championship game.
And while I don’t think pretending I’m not in labor in the third quarter of the AFC Championship game was part of that job description, I’m still doing it. Quietly and without distraction, just like the NFL would want me too.
“Come on, babe!” I cheer, clapping my hands and gritting my back molars together to ward off the disgruntled moan wanting to rip through my throat. It’s getting harder and harder to stay quiet as the game goes on. But I’ve been doing this since 3:00pm. Another hour won’t hurt… that bad… probably. “Mmm.” I grunt quietly to myself, pushing my lips together as Joe drops back with the ball. He pulls back and launches the ball down the sideline, dropping it perfectly into Ja’Marr’s arms. “Woo!” I call excitedly, clapping my hands in earnest.
“Ah! This is such a nail biter.” My mom groans next to me, rubbing at the lines in the middle of her forehead. I reach out, rubbing her back between her shoulder blades in comfort.
“Cool Joey’s got this.” I assure her.
My eyes find Joe’s on the TV screen to the left, watching as he reads the opposing defense while giving his fingers a quick lick in anticipation of the next snap. He makes it all look so easy. To be playing in freezing Ohio temperatures. To stay calm when 300+ pound tackles are rushing at him from mere feet away. To lifting his arm and spiraling an absolute dart into Tee Higgins awaiting hands. To halting the momentum of the other team with a touchdown to give the Bengals a two score lead heading into the fourth quarter.
I have no doubt that fatherhood will be this effortless to him too. Especially with how much we have been wanting this.
“Daddy is working tonight, baby.” I murmur down to my bump. I step away from leaning against the bar top and move towards the fridge to grab a water. “There’s no rush to be born today.” I rub my hands on the underside of my belly, holding it gently as I waddle back to my seat. The pressure is beyond uncomfortable. I breathe through each step like Joe and I had been practicing the last few weeks.
I can picture us back in our living room. I’m bouncing on the ball, trying my hardest not to laugh as Joe urgently says “Hee-Hee-Hoo.” And the way he jokingly scolds me for not being able to keep a straight or serious face.
“You’re going to wish you practiced more when you’re in labor.” He shrugs, going back to his phone.
“This isn’t football, Joey. It’s labor. Women have been doing this for centuries. I’m just the next one to do it.”
“Yeah, but you’re my wife.” He said simply, as if that should explain everything.
I could use his persistence and coaching right now. But I can’t pull him off the field. He is so close to leading his team back to the Super Bowl and I’m not even close to being at a point where I need to be concerned. Yeah, things are getting more intense, but it’s manageable. I can think through it, talk too, so there is absolutely no reason to pull him off the field.
Twenty minutes later, I’m not feeling quite the same way.
“Are you okay?” My mom asks, noticing how I won’t sit back down on the bar stool next to her. I brace my hands on the back of the chair, shifting my weight from side to side. It’s impossible for me to stand still between the contractions, pressure, and nerves. “Honey?” She presses when I don’t answer her.
“Mhm.” I finally say back.
Joe’s mom, Robin, looks over from where she sits on the edge of her seat in the front row, ears tuning into the conversation my mom and I are having. I give her a tight smile that she doesn’t buy. She claps her hands as the Bengals offense is lead back onto the field by Joe, then she come to stand next to me.
“What is going on?” She asks. With both her and my mom staring me down, it feels harder to lie.
“Nothing.” I scoff.
I don’t believe me.
They don’t either.
“Are you… in labor?” My mom whispers so only the three of us can hear. I scoff again, shaking my head with a slight scrunch of my nose.
“It’s definitely Braxton Hicks.” I say, admitting that I’m feeling something but not being completely truthful.
“Honey, this is bigger than a football game.”
“Do you know Joe Burrow?” I chuckle.
“Yeah. And he would definitely not expect you to stand here in pain for a game.”
“I’m not in….” I trail off, voice beginning to shallow in my throat at this next round. “Pain.” I squeak out with a little puff of distress.
“I’ll get team services.” Robin immediately decides.
“Do NOT do that!” I yell at Robin where she has started towards the door. I fall slightly forward with a wince, but keep my eyes locked on my mother in law. “Nobody call team services. Nobody text Joe. Nothing! This is my baby and my labor and I’m doing it my way. Nobody else’s!” I adjust my voice, realizing I’m yelling louder than I intended too. “I love you so much, Robin. So much. You’re a second mother to me and you birthed my favorite person in the entire word. And I know you want to help. But sit the fuck down. Please.” I snap my fingers at the seat she vacated.
If the woman hadn’t known me since I was 9, she probably would have been appalled by my outburst. But she knows my stubbornness and indestructible willpower, so she sighs instead.
“At least time them.” She compromises with me, hands on her hips with her lips set in a stern line.
“Fine.” I motion to my mom who hands me my purse. I grab my phone and pull up my pregnancy app. Robin passes by me. Joe’s dad and a few others look back at me with worried glances, but nobody dares to say a word.
My outwards resolve begins to crumble away now that everyone in the suite is in the know. If I could laugh, I would at how ironic it is that Joe is the only one not in the loop on what is happening.
While he makes plays on the field below, I pace until I can’t. When movement stops working, squatting becomes the only position that provides relief from the contractions. I walk over to the couch in the back of the suite. I toss my forearms onto the black leather and then squat down, moaning in relief at how much better it feels. See I can do this. I can stay here forever even. He doesn’t have to make his entrance into the world today. As long as I don’t move from here.
Behind me, the stadium bellows. Fireworks sound and cheering echos through out the suite as high fives are shared with Joe’s friends and family. A pair of legs comes to my left and I know it’s my mom.
“I’ll let him know now.” She states to me. I know she isn’t asking and I nod with resignation. I wanted to make it to the end of the game and I did. A few moments later, my mom comes back. “Joe wants me to tell you he’ll be up in a few minutes.” I flex my fingers out in front of me, then nod again, my forehead rubbing against the warm leather beneath my face.
How the hell am I going to do this? It’s already so uncomfortable. How am I going to get deeper into this without splitting apart and dying!? Fuck! We did not think this very planned and wanted baby through enough. Why didn’t I take the breathing more seriously? I shake my head at myself. I’ll never admit that to my husband. Ever.
The chatter in the suite begins to slowly drain down. I close my eyes, focusing in on the oxygen I’m willing in and out of my lungs, creating my own helpful pattern. I can hear the swishing of pants and the soft padded thuds of shoes. People are moving. Some come close to me, crouching down to wish me good luck.
“Nobody touch me.” I hiss out in warning, keeping my eyes closed and brain focused. I can’t handle any unwanted physical touch with how hard I’m trying to keep my composure now. I want to scream, kick, bite- anything that lets out the horrible tension and pressure that keeps increasing with each passing second.
“What about me? Am I allowed to touch you?” Joe asks from my left. I’m not expecting him this soon, so I startle, losing my balance slightly where I am squatting. His hands dash around my sides, keeping me upright. His fingers spread wide over my back and stomach. I look him over, seeing his eyebrows tug down with worry. “What’s going on? Your mom’s text was vague, but she said you needed me.”
“Um…” I trail off. “Don’t be mad…” I tack on, shaking my head and looking away, back to the wall in front of me. “But yeah I think this could be it.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since like 3.”
“Jesus, babe!” He curses softly. He rubs at his hairline of drying curls, then sighs. “Let’s head out then.”
“No.” I say simply, offering a brisk shake of my head. His lips drop apart incredulously.
“No… she says no?” He trails off questioningly.
“Yeah, I’m not going.” I inhale a deep breath through my nose, trying to resist the squeak pinching at the back of my throat.
“Is that maybe open for discussion?”
“Nope.” I grit.
Joe takes in my face as the next contraction builds. His hand dips low between my hips on my back then he rubs tenderly there through the tightening of my entire body. I can feel the downward momentum beginning to surge through me. I shake my head slightly, exhaling as long as I can before I inhale an equally long breath. I’m starting to get dizzy from all of this- crouching, deep breathing, and the weight of Joe’s blue eyes on me. As I ease through the end of this one, Joe’s fingers begin to rub soothing circles where I need it most.
“What about now?” He tries lightly.
“No.” I repeat.
Quiet, calm, unflappable Joe Burrow begins to bleed away. Replacing him is a concerned husband and soon-to-be father. He inhales with exasperation, then works his way behind me while still staying in his crouch. His chest connects with my back, cutting off the cold air that was blowing on me from the open stadium. His thighs press into both of mine as his hands crawl their way under my belly to support it. I lean back into him.
“I have all I need right here with you.”
“You could have this at the hospital too.” His lips brush against the side of my head, tickling my hair.
“They won’t let us be like this.” I pout. “They have so many rules at the hospital. It’s dumb. We don’t need rules. I don’t even… think… he’s… gonna… UGH!…. come today.” I finally finish.
“I think him and I disagree with that assessment.” Joe runs his thumbs over my tight skin, working into my stretch marks low on my belly. My lips crumple into a teary frown.
“I’m his mom! I know.” I insist. My forehead caves inward and my nose scrunches in unison with my brows. “Fuck.” A grunt snorts through my nostrils as I try to breathe. This is getting much more intense than it was before and each passing second has the rational part of me wanting to slap the emotional part. “We have to stay here. You-you have football commitments here.” I stutter out, trying to cling to anything to not have to move forward to what is next.
Because I am deathly afraid of every possible terrible, horrible, unwanted outcome that could happen when I go into that delivery room. It’s turned beyond worries into straight paranoia and every one of those scenarios flashes through my eyes like a black and white horror film. It’s the exact cause of my feet being glued to the gray geometric carpet.
“The game is over.” He reminds me. “What are we really waiting for? Fill me in on what’s going through your thoughts. I want to be in there with you, baby.”
“I’m fucking scared, Joey. Really fucking scared. I’m not ready for this. 9 months wasn’t long enough to prepare. He has to stay in there.” I move my hands to lace with his over my belly.
He hums, then a slight nod of his head brushes his blonde curls against the fly-aways of mine.
“This is scary shit.” He agrees. “But he’s ready for us. It’s our time to become a family. Preferably not in stadium suite.”
I shake my head.
“I’m not going. If I stay here, he stays where he is.”
Of course that’s not true. I know it. Joe knows it. My body sure as hell knows it too.
But it gives me back an illusion of control I desperately need to cling onto.
“Okay.” Joe’s response takes me off guard. I whip my head to face him, features throughly twisted together in panic, pain and confusion.
“We…” I trail off. One of his hands unfolds from mine and he cups my cheek, holding me in place so he can brush his puffy lips over mine.
“You’ll be ready soon. When you are, we’ll head to the hospital to have our son. But until then, we’ll stay right here.”
“Babe.” I cry into our kiss. I pull my mouth away from his, resting my forehead on his jaw. “Ow.” I moan as my back and abdominal muscles crunch together in another forceful contraction. “Mother fucker!” I yelp. It feels good to finally let out a noise with my full chest.
“My bad.” Joe throws out casually when my face relaxes back into a less scrunched expression. If I could, I would laugh. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling, lips pursed into a deep frown as the back of my head connects with his shoulder.
“Yeah. You know what? How could you do this to me?” I ask breathlessly.
“What? Put the baby in you that you were begging me for? That we hoped for?” He chuckles, moving my hair back behind my ear. “I’m so sorry.” He coos. “I’ll make sure to disappoint you for the rest of our lives instead.”
“Good. Glad we are on the same page.” I gasp, trying to relax my body back into his. Joe adjusts his feet slightly forward to cradle me better and recenter our weight together. My fingers curl around the sides of his thighs, having ample purchase to hold onto. Outside in the stadium, we can hear carts moving equipment and a slight roar from the interstate weaving by the stadium.
I swallow hard, squeezing his quads. He responds by inhaling the skin of my shoulder then covering the skin in a warm and hefty sigh.
“What if I can’t do this?” I whisper. My bottom lip quivers sporadically until my top teeth squash it by bitting down hard.
Joe’s nose draws a straight line along the back of my neck. He pulls away briefly before a soft kiss in the same area connects us again.
“What can’t we do together, baby?”
I shake my head, head pulsing from trying to hold my tears in.
“It’s not us, it’s me.”
“It is us.” Joe corrects me. His hands move along the outside of my thighs to provide comfort. “You’re not going to the hospital alone, baby. You’re not facing one more second of this without my hand in yours. I’m going to be right here. I’ll coach you through everything.” He brushes his thumbs over my knee caps. “I know you’ve got this.” He affirms. “Even if you’re scared.”
“Be scared with me?” I can’t face this fear alone.
“I am.” He confirms immediately. “But that isn’t going to keep me stuck here. I’m ready for what’s next. You are too, you know? You’re ready for those newborn snuggles and three am feedings and the super grip he’s going to have on your finger in a few hours. You’re ready for that first cry and to complain about how damn much he looks like me even though you did all the real work. You’re ready. All of us Burrows are.”
His words flow over me and my brain takes me to what’s ahead in however many hours. To that first skin to skin Joe will have with him, to finally seeing his face, to hearing that first breath echo through the room in a shattered scream. To become a mom. To make Joe a dad.
Suddenly I crave it so deeply that my mouth begins to water.
I swallow hard then sit up a bit straighter.
“Okay, let’s go have him today.”
“Okay.” Joe says through an obvious grin. “Stand when you’re ready. I’ve got you.”
Together, with Joe’s arms supporting me, we stand back up. A rush flows through me and my water bursts down between us, soaking our shoes.
“Okay, we really better go now!” Joe exclaims with an anxious laugh.
I look into his shining blue eyes, desperate for reassurance. For a moment, we pause again, uncomfortably wet socks and all, making the world wait for us. Joe looks back at me in a way I’ve never seen before. Like he loves me, but in an incomprehensible way.
“You’re making me a dad today, baby.” His voice catches, cracking along a few vowels as he reaches for my hands. He gives them both a squeeze, then wraps an arm around my shoulders to pull me into his body. “I love you. I don’t know how else to say what this feels like except that. I love you. Way beyond anything measurable. But I know when he joins us today, it’s all going to grown even more.” I cry into his neck, then pull away when I’m ready.
We step out of the suite and I’m not surprised to see a group of people waiting for us. It’s a collection of our parents, Bengals medical staff, team services and security.
“We’re ready to go now.” Joe says to the group.
“Okay. Let’s go.” The head of security murmurs and the entire group starts walking with his leading.
I talk to the medical staff as we walk down, telling them what I can as I breathe through what’s happening. They offer me a wheelchair no less than ten times, but I decline every time. Walking feels good. When we get to the ground level, Joe’s car is already pulled up to the front and he waves off the attendant who wants to open the door for me. It’s only his job to take care of me right now and he takes that seriously.
I slide onto the expensive leather then follow Joe’s form as he jogs around the car.
“Wish us luck!” He calls to the group watching us. They begin to cheer. I clasp my hand over my mouth as Joe roars the engine forward. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude and anticipation as people cheer while we exit. A police car pulls out in front of us and our escort to the downtown hospital begins. Joe reaches over the center console, lacing our fingers together tightly. “I’m right there.” He reminds me eagerly. “Nowhere else I could ever be but right next to you.” He kisses the backs of my knuckles and I nod along with his words.
At 3:14am the following morning, our whole world shifts when I deliver our son. It took 15 minutes of pushing, contributed by him being ready as well as his mama. I don’t know what Joe and I said to each other in those first moments after he was born. It’s all a blur but I know exactly how if felt- perfect. Like there was nothing else we could ask for in that moment.
I feel the same way again now as I watch, freshly showered from my bed where he does his first round of skin to skin with our boy.
“I’m annoyed.” I whisper to Joe. The sun is beginning to peak over the wintery horizon outside. Joe looks up immediately, scanning over my body in the bed, ready to pounce to fix whatever he can. “He looks too much like you. It’s annoying.” I shrug. Joe laughs. “What am I supposed to do when he has your blue eyes and pouty lips aimed at me?”
“Give him whatever he wants.” Joe murmurs, looking back down at our son.
“I’m going to give you a girl next. Really make you pay for all this. Then you’ll understand what I’m dealing with here.”
“That’s a payback I’m looking forward to.” He smirks, eyes crinkling softly at the corners when he drinks me in again. We hold our gazes there, a whole conversation passing between us easily fueled by the decades we have known each other now.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done this alone. You kept me so calm. Like you do in every storm.” Joe takes one hand off our son, to lace our fingers together.
“You were going to stay in that suite.”
“I was. Also, I yelled at your mom and I feel so bad.” I bring my hand to my lips, shaking my head.
“Apologize with him.” Joe advises with a toothy grin, smoothing over our son’s hat.
“I will at the Super Bowl.” I chuckle. “Congratulations on that by the way.” Joe instantly shakes his head.
“I’d give it all up for you two. Immediately. You’re the only accomplishments I need.”
the lih blurb being about the end of part two gives elle kennedy releasing what happened the night dean and allie first hooked up on her website im so excited to read it i love all your writing
thank you so much this is so cute hahaha
i always said i probably wouldn't have written any smut around the initial two fics because the fade to black felt right but also i think because it was their first time i sort of have been thinking about it in the context of how it sort of cemented them together so i wanted to take a stab at it!!
there's also a bit in there about the mall trip they took after he asked her at the country club to go with him (the scene just before he tells quinn he likes her lol) and it's super cute!!
ANYWAY teensy preview below the cut because it is taking me forever!! 18+ MDNI smut & size references below lmao
“Y’know, you could at least try to act like you’re not getting so much pleasure from me struggling,” you pout, drawing his eyes to the swell of your pretty lips - a darkened pink from his kisses.
“I thought pleasure was the whole point,” he leans in to kiss you again, his mouth moving to speak against yours as you kiss him back. “Don’t you feel good?”
There’s a part of him that worries you don’t - that you’re pushing yourself through discomfort just to please him, and it sort of makes his stomach turn. The last thing he wants is you coming out of this only associating him with pain.
But then there’s the way your skin is flushed and glowing, and your pupils are blown, and your breath keeps catching with every little movement between you, and he knows you feel the way he feels - euphoric.
“Yeah,” you sigh, rolling your hips a little with the gesture, your eyes drifting closed and your brow furrowing - and Luke can feel himself sinking in further, can feel how tight your walls flutter around him in a way that makes his jaw tick. “You’re just so big.”
“You can take it, though,” he reassures you, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as it gapes open a little, “Not like you to admit defeat, right?”
“Right,” you echo back, and he swears it’s an instinctive response - your eyes are closed now, and you barely look like you’re actually registering what he’s saying, too focused on giving him what he wants, or maybe just taking what you want from him. He’s enjoying himself, either way.
He’s definitely enjoying this part - guiding you, that is - because it’s so different to what you’d let him do outside of these four walls. If he tried to tell you what to do any other day you’d probably stomp on his foot or something - not that he’d entirely mind that, either, he’s starting to think any attention you give him is the good kind - but right now you’re like putty in his hands; pliable and reliant on his every word.
“Look at that,” he cajoles, pride puffing in his chest when you drop your gaze between the two of you, your clammy forehead pressing to his so you can both see the point at which you meet, and then he tries his luck with, “You’re so good for me, feel so fucking good.”
He’s just shy of calling you a good girl - his good girl, but he’s not sure how you’d take it.
Can I have a cappuccino w/ an extra espresso shot? Add whipped cream (sub!quinn) and peppermint (enemies to lovers).
My vision is enemies to lovers with lots of tension and teasing until it all boils down to a hurried hookup at a party with lots of banter (enemies, duh) until quinny can’t take it anymore 😏
sub!quinn is actually so beautiful thank u cappy for brainstorming 3 lines of dialogue that set the tone for this blurb
The hockey team has always been a rival of yours, although there’s very little reason to back it up. To make a long story (with little validity) short, you were cut off by one too many hockey cars leaving class and you’re tired of each player.
You have a soft spot for Quinn Hughes, though. He’s still one of your enemies, being a hockey player, but you’re fond of the way he blushes and averts his gaze whenever he sees you. It’s the one highlight of running in a similar circle as the hockey team.
Quinn rarely lets you get close enough to have an extended conversation. You can’t tell if he’s attracted to you or afraid of you, but for the first time in your life, you’re trading jabs with him.
“At least I’m not drinking light beer at a party with an open bar,” you laugh, gesturing toward Quinn’s beer.
“At least I’m not tossing shots back like someone who belongs in AA,” Quinn shoots back with a crooked but shy smile.
You scoff, gasping sarcastically. “This, my dear Quinn, is neat whiskey. It is not a shot and I am not tossing them back.” You toss your hair over your shoulder instead. “It’s a sipping whiskey.”
He chuckles, his H’es overpronounced. It’s cute, just like his floppy hair and the spattering of pimples across his forehead. “You’re mean.”
You purse your lips, waving him forward. You cover your mouth with your hand, whispering a secret in Quinn’s ear: “You like it.”
Quinn gains an inch when he straightens his spine, eyes wide. He looks at you like he can’t believe what you just said, a deer-in-headlights sort of shock consuming him.
The air between you is tense for a moment, your smile flagging when he doesn’t come up with some quippy response within seconds. Your head is tilting to the side when he finds his voice.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, shifting on his heels. “I do.”
You react, but only barely. It’s a blink, a small flinch. Quinn doesn’t notice. “Oh, you do?”
Quinn wraps a hand around your waist and guides you toward the closet across the room. There’s a small crowd of dancers around you, but Quinn has no problem parting the sea. He leans close to your ear: “I really do.”
You’re still processing his admission when Quinn ushers you into the closet, closing the door behind you and immediately pressing you up against it. His hands eagerly slide up your sides, clumsy kisses marking your neck.
While you’re the one pressed against the door and being touched, you’re under no impression that Quinn is in charge. In fact, his enthusiasm portrays one thing: need.
“Oh my God, Quinn, how long have you been wanting this?” you taunt upon feeling his hard length press against your thigh. You tangle your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp, biting your lip when his grinding quickens. “You get this fucking desperate when a girl is mean to you?”
He releases a strangled moan against your collarbone and circles his arms around your waist.
“Pathetic,” you praise, dragging Quinn up to your mouth and petting his tongue with your own.
Quinn whimpers and sucks on the muscle, moving easily when you flip your positions so that his back is against the closet door.
You work your hand into Quinn’s pants, seizing his cock and stroking it at an immediately rapid pace.
Quinn buckles slightly, his head tipping back and hitting the door with a thud.
You attack his pale throat, sucking a messy splotch over his pulse point as you massage his cock. His legs are shaky, so you pin him to the wall with a hand on the base of his neck. You can feel his whimpers and moans rising up his throat, open-mouthed breathing because he just can’t handle how you’re making him feel.
“What would the team say if they saw you like this,” you ponder before nibbling Quinn’s earlobe. “I bet they’d laugh, seeing how pliant you are when I’ve got my hand around your cock.”
Quinn’s breath stutters, his hips bucking into your hand.
“I’m going to send you back out there with a wet spot on your jeans, baby,” you tell Quinn, humming against the curve of his jaw before sucking a hickey there. “Everyone will see what you did. They’re going to know you’re mine.”
Quinn all but groans at that, his eyelashes fluttering and cock twitching in your hand, semen flowing from the tip and staining his underwear.
He looks so beautiful like this, boneless and satiated.
Sweet Andy, congrats on one year of you!! In celebration, can I please have a cafe latte with whipped cream (sub! Luke 😋) for Luke Hughes?
thank u missjomarch!!! i love u!!!!!! u r so perfect!!!!!!!!!
happy 69th blurb!! had to make them 69 just for this <3
Luke is lovely. His chest is broad and his stomach is taut, thighs sculpted and arms strong. After seeing him shirtless all day, you can’t be held accountable for the way you jump him once you’re alone.
There’s still one problem, though.
He can’t stay quiet.
His sounds are like music to your ears, those little whimpers and moans streaming from him like a symphony. You’re sitting on his stomach, ass in full view, with a dainty hand around his long length. You’re grinding against his abs and leaving a line of slick along the muscles, using Luke for your pleasure. His six-pack is like a washboard and his cock is pulsing in your hand. All signs are green, telling you to do more, but you have a sinking feeling that if he doesn’t shut his mouth soon, someone will bang on the wall and stop you themselves.
“Luke, you have to be quiet,” you hiss, looking over your shoulder and catching a glimpse of his flushed face and bitten-red bottom lip.
“Sorry, mmph, you’re so good at that,” Luke mumbles, sweat dripping down his brow. “Can’t help it.”
“Well, fuck, Lukie,” you simper, shuffling back on your knees until your pink slit is presented right in front of his face. “If you can’t stay quiet, then I’m going to have to shut you up.”
Luke melts, his hands coming to your hips. “Fuck, please,” he begs before pulling you back and laying the flat of his tongue on your clit, shaking his head and getting your juices all over the tip of his nose.
You grind back against his face, all while jerking his cock in time with his frantic suction on your clit.
Luke’s noises continue, muffled in your folds now. Vibrations overtake your pussy, his hums and moans and frenzied licks catapulting you into a new level of ecstasy.
Your body slumps, ribcage flush with his torso. You guide his tip to your mouth, licking over his soft glans. Your hand continues to pump his shaft, drool mixing with precum and easing the glide. Your thumb follows the line of his bulging vein, massaging it.
He moans loud, inadvertently bucking his hips and forcing his cock down your throat. Unprepared, you gag on his length and pull off to catch your breath.
“Sorry,” Luke says, rushed and muffled. He barely finishes the word before tilting his chin up and licking into your hole, stroking your inner walls with his deft tongue.
You squeeze his cock in admonishment, placing your other hand on his thigh to balance yourself.
Luke’s fervor is making you rock, making your hand the perfect hold for his twitching cock.
You keep your mouth wide open, ghosting over Luke’s tip whenever a bead of precum leaks from his slit– a stream of creamy liquid so generous that you feel you could drink from it all night long and be full.
His body has trouble staying still, but you allow him to use you. He eats you out for his own pleasure, yanking you back even further so you can sit on his face properly, leaving no room for breath. His tongue laps at you with no sign of stopping, too eager to decide whether he prefers tasting your entrance or your clit. His hips jump into your hand, chasing the feeling of your tight grip around his sensitive nerves.
His noises crescendo when you lick slowly, so slowly, from his base to his tip. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, feeling cum start to spurt out in the middle of the motion on the underside of your tongue. Luke whines against your clit, nuzzling his face against your cunt, his lips moving with words that you can’t decipher.
“Good boy, Lu,” you soothe as he comes, white spunk dripping down your hand. You rock your hips against his face, sitting up and bringing your hand to your mouth. His cock is softening, flopping down to rest against his thigh, still leaking the last of his orgasm.
He coos at the praise, fingertips digging into your flesh. Luke suffocates himself with the intention of making you come, drawing more praise from your lips when he captures your clit and goes into overdrive– humming, whining, begging, flicking his tongue along the sensitive nerves and asking for more each time you release over his face.
Ohhhhh to be tortured by shirtless Luke walking around all day. Loveeeee the support of the sub Luke agenda. FUCK this was sooooo hot. Thank ya thank ya 😋😋
I WANT TO BE WITH YOU EVERYWHERE — luke hughes x reader
summary: one drunken you, one love-bitten Luke and a whole lot of fluff.
note: just pure drunken love and sweetness I can’t lie, shoutout to everyone who requested this (and everybody who gets tired when drunk).
warnings: MDNI, drinking, use of: sweet/pretty/sleepy girl, fem!reader, fluffiness to the MAX.
THIS IS UNEDITED!!
“Can you hear me calling, out your name? You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say—”
Luke’s hand darted for his phone at the sound of his ringtone for you. It was some Fleetwood Mac song you would listen to on repeat, blast in his car, hum beneath your breath — a song so unequivocally you.
Luke slid the answer button across, lifting the phone to his ear and was instantly met with loud chatter and giggles that made his heart swoop.
“Hey, sweet girl, everything alright?” He began, pausing some random WWII history documentary that he’d been watching on Netflix. “Having a nice night?”
You and a few of your friends had decided to go out for a girl’s night, and as you were leaving, Luke knew one thing was for certain and that was the fact you would not be returning sober.
“Lu,” your voice crackled through the receiver, “Lu, can you..come ‘n get me?” Your words were interrupted by spontaneous hiccups and more laughter.
“Sure thing,” Luke instantly replied, sitting up and pulling the blanket off of his legs. “Where are you now?”
Another hiccup echoed through the receiver followed by another round of giggles.
“‘m outside,” Luke swore he could hear your slanted smile from your voice alone. “It was loud inside.”
“Sounds it,” He agreed, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his keys, a bottle of water and another hoodie of his. “Which bar did you guys end up at tonight, pretty girl?”
“Madrio’s, and then Rocket and now some loud places called Lancombes.” You listed, “’s busy though and I wanna come home.”
“Okay, that’s alright,” Luke shook his head lovingly, leaving his apartment. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes, sweet girl, is there anyone else with you?”
“Mmm, I think Jada is here,”
Luke heard another faint voice talking to his girl, before the phone was handed over.
“I’ll keep an eye on her until you get here,” Jada spoke through the phone, “I’m DD-ing for two of the others but we can wait.”
“Thank you,” Luke breathed into the phone as he approached the car park. “I won’t be longer than fifteen.”
“Alrighty then,” that was the last thing Luke heard before the phone echoed clattering and shuffling from the other end of the line.
“Hello?” Luke asked tentatively into the speaker, pausing in front of his car, eyebrows scrunched. “Is everything good?”
“Hi Lukey,” your voice giggled through the speaker. You sounded out of breath, the receiver almost muffled.
“y/n-what?! Sit up! No, you can’t lie across the path!”
“I’m comfortable! And least it’s not the road!”
Luke shook his head at your protests as more shuffling and scuffling echoed through the line as Jada presumably pulled you off the path. He swiftly hopped into his car, buckling himself in and throwing his handful of items in the back.
“Y/n, you there?” He asked, turning the key in the ignition.
“Mmhmm…” your hum was loud but crackled through the phone. “Can we get Tino’s?”
Luke let out a small chuckle while the phone automatically connected to his car. Tino’s was a small pizza joint that specialised in takeaway pizza slices— the best in New Jersey, you had proclaimed one night. The place became your favourite post-drink food spot, one which Luke happily indulged in as well.
“Yeah we can swing by on the way back,” he reasoned, pulling out of the garage.
“This is why you’re my favourite boyfriend,” you sighed happily into the receiver.
“You have more than one boyfriend, sweet girl?” He teased.
“Oh yeah, lines upon lines, all waiting for to step down.”
“Not happening.”
“I know… ‘s why I love you,”
“Love you too,” Luke grinned, eyes focused on the road. “I’m on my way.”
“Stay on the phone…please?”
And who was Luke to resist your saccharine pleading?
“Absolutely…You still with your friends?”
☆
By the time Luke pulled up to the bar, you were still sitting pretty on the curbside, phone to your ear as you waved towards his oncoming car. He parked the vehicle just meters away from you, hopping out of the car just in time to assist Jada with helping you up off of the floor.
“Lukeeee,” you slurred, bright eyes shining underneath the bar lights as you threw your arms around his shoulders.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Luke cooed, arms dropping to your waist as he held you against him. You made a small preening noise, hands slipping beneath his hoodie for warmth as you relished his hold. “Ready to go?”
“Mhmm,” your voice reverberated through Luke’s chest from where you’d nuzzled into him.
Luke glanced behind him, keeping his arms around you as he locked eyes with Jada, who was juggling your two other friends on either arm.
“Thanks again for looking after her,” he spoke with genuine gratitude lacing his every word.
“No hassle,” Jada responded, her grip tightening on the two stumbling girls. “Good luck getting her home, she’s had a bit too much, even tried to bribe the bouncer to let her in.”
“I had twizzlers left over,” you mumbled tiredly, head still burrowed in Luke’s chest. “And everyone likes the red ones!”
With a knowing laugh, Luke shook his head and helped guide you towards the passenger side, carefully helping you in. You sunk into the leather of the seats, pouting as Luke moved to grab something from the back.
“None of that,” Luke tutted, coming back into view, handing you a waterbottle and clutching one of his hoodies. “C’mon put this on you, you’re freezing.”
A smile wormed its way across your face, eyes lighting up as the warmth of the familiar material was shrugged over you, drowning you in heat and the scent of your boy. The water bottle lay in your lap as you wriggled happily, sticking your hands through the sleeves, chuckling as you tried to poke your fingers out from the cuff only to be left with sweater paws.
You cradled Luke’s face in your sweater-clad hands, unintelligible words escaping your lips as he buckled you into the seat, adjusting the strap so it wouldn’t dig into your neck.
“You’re so pretty,” you pouted once more, eyes wide and puppy-like as you drew Luke’s face closer to yours, your forehead resting against his.
Luke flushed, no matter how drunk or sober you were, your praise or compliments meant the world. Made him feel all fuzzy and loved.
“Okay, you’re all buckled in,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your pouted lips, the lingering taste of spirits dwindling on the plushness of your mouth.
“Pizza time?” You asked, eyebrows raising, you reluctantly let go of Luke.
“Pizza time,” he confirmed, ensuring you were completely tucked in before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s seat. As he hopped into his side, closing the door and buckling himself in, he turned his head towards you. “Fleetwood Mac?”
With a gleeful nod from you, Luke connected his phone to the aux, the queued Fleetwood Mac songs filling the car’s interior.
The journey was quiet for a while, the sultry sound of Stevie Nicks was the only sound (other than the vehicular noises), but it was far from the type of awkward quiet. You’d leaned fully into the seat, your hand gripping onto Luke’s that rested on your thigh. You drunkenly hummed along to the song, head tilted towards your boyfriend while your free hand twiddled with the string of Luke’s hoodie, pulling and tugging at it ever so slightly.
Luke stole glances at you every few minutes, taking in every detail of his girl, from the dishevelled hair, half-lidded eyes, the chipped nail polish, the smudged eye make up. You looked like what you frequently would describe as “the most panda-like of hot messes”…Luke didn’t see that.
What Luke saw was a version of you that he loved. Yes, a little messy, yes, a little chaotic but god, you were gorgeous.
Your lips, the lips he knew so well were twisted into a smile, something so sweet and peaceful that it made his chest ache and heart clench.
Ten minutes into the drive, he pulled into the small parking lot outside of Tino’s, which was completely illuminated by gaudy neon lights.
When he looked towards you to ask if you wants your usual, he noticed your eyes had fully closed, your body slumped into the seat but your grip on his hand still tight.
He shifted his few hand up to brush away stray hair from your cheeks, his heated palm resting on the side of your face.
“Hey, sleepy girl,” Luke gently started, as you stirred. “Want me to go in and get the food, or would you like to come?”
“Can you please get it? ’m comfortable,” you murmured, eyes lipping shut once again.
“Okay, hang tight,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. Luke kept the engine running to allow the heat to continue to pump into the car before he stepped out onto the gravel and towards the shop.
The workers in there knew you two well enough, so the second Luke asked for your regular meals, they were ready and all within minutes.
Hands ladened with your favourite pizza and a slice of his own, he made his way back to the car, his smile unwavering at the sight of you curled up in the passenger seat.
Luke cautiously opened the door to his side, the click of the car rousing you from your nap.
“Pizza?” You sleepily slurred, hands poking out in a grabby motion.
“Your favourite,” he softly smiled, handing over the greasy pizza slice atop its takeaway plate.
You immediately dug in, your head dramatically lolling to the side with a low moan as you bit into the slice.
“So good,” you groaned, taking another bite as it melted into your mouth.
Luke bit back his own growing desire as you let out another bodily moan, head back and lips parted. You looked like the epitome of sin, the very thing Luke on any other occasion would indulge in, but no matter how much you would end up pleading later in the night, any sinful indulgences or activities would have to wait until the morning.
Pushing down the flare of heat, Luke tried to list hockey heroes to quench any semblance of desire— Gretzky, Howe, Orr, Crosby, Lemieux, Messier.
He bit into his own slice with a shuddered breath.
“Thank you, Lu,” you spoke eventually, but your words muffled as you scoffed back the last bit of your pizza. “You’re my best boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah?” Luke swallowed before answering, “well thank you, sweet girl, appreciate it.”
You giggled at that, hands fumbling for his free one as you clutched it tightly.
“Why don’t you have some water, hm?” He began, directing their clasped hands towards the bottle which was still perched on your lap. Slowly and gently, he removed his hand from yours, picking up the bottle, directing the straw towards you. “Need to keep you hydrated.”
You hummed contentedly, tongue darting out to capture the straw through a childish laugh. Luke watched with a knowing smile as you sipped on the water, his hand steadily holding the bottle for you.
You pulled back, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you settled back into the plushness of the leather seat.
“Ready to go?”
Your bleary eyes met Luke’s at his words, head lethargically bobbing up and down as he let out a small noise of approval, smoothing your hair back before planting a gentle kiss on your cheek before starting the engine, one of his hands clasping yours.
The drive back was even shorter, and seven or eight minutes later, Luke pulled into the underground garage of your shared apartment complex.
He glanced over at you, your face smushed against the cool glass, eyes fully closed, soft breaths escaping your parted lips, hand now limp in his.
Luke briefly squeezed your hand before getting out and walking around the car. He tentatively opened the door, immediately reaching in to catch your drooping head. You stumbled over your words incoherently while Luke shushed you gently, keeping you steady as he unbuckled your seatbelt.
You shifted and groaned ever so quietly, as he scooped you up bridal-style, one arm beneath your knees, the other holding you close to his chest before you could even think to wobble to your feet.
“I can walk,” you protested sleepily into his hoodie, nose nudging at the exposed skin of his neck.
“I know, but this is faster.” Luke tilted his head, adjusting his grip to hold you even closer. As he pressed the elevator button with “…and you have a tendency to fall asleep in the elevator.”
“I only did that twice.”
“Three times.”
“Dramatic,”
“Drunk,”
You scoffed, but your mouth betrayed you as it twisted into a small smile. Luke hummed, and you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or mindless, but the faint sound of Fleetwood Mac filtering into the air from his pink lips relaxed your every muscle.
Luke struggled for a second or two to get the door open, inevitably swiftly kicking it open to carry you inside.
He gently sat you on the couch before kneeling down to unlace your boots. He did it methodically, one shoelace at a time as your hands gravitated towards his curls, twirling them between your fingers. When he eventually tugged off your boots, his hands cradled your aching feet, placing them back down onto the wooden flooring.
He stood up slowly, his knees cracking as he rose. He looked down at where you were still slumped into the couch, half-asleep with one eye forced open and a lazy and mischievous smile stretched across your bitten lips.
"Makeup off, then bed," Luke told you softly, reaching for your hand again, ignoring the way you groaned like what he’d just said was a personal insult.
“I can sleep like this,” your lip jutted outward, “m'skin’s tired, ‘n I’m tired.”
Luke couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, softly tugging you upright.
“Not happening, sweet girl,” he tutted while he helped you up, slowly guiding you towards the bathroom. “You’ll complain in the morning when your face feels like sandpaper and your mascara glues your eyes together.”
You let out a frustrated huff but leaned into him nevertheless, with every step punctuated by a mumbled complaint or a dreamy sigh.
Inside the lit bathroom, you blinked blearily at your reflection, wincing at the sight. You were the most panda-like of hot messes, but despite that you giggled, the sight comical rather than cringey.
Luke reached up into the bathroom cabinet, grabbing a soft face towel and the bottle of micellar water you always kept on the top shelf—"just in case,” you’d told him, much preferring to use a lotion cleanser but desperate times? Desperate measures.
Luke knew the routine by now.
“Sit,” he whispered, tapping the closed toilet seat gently.
You sluggishly obeyed, resting your chin atop your palm, elbows high on your knees before watching Luke kneel again.
He tilted your head ever so slightly with a gentle finger beneath your chin, soaking the towel before beginning to wipe delicately at the smudged mascara beneath your eyes.
He was being so sweet and soft, you thought you may just happily melt right there and then.
“You’re so gentle,” you finally whispered, voice ladened with sleep. Eyes blinking innocently as he paused his movements.
“Only with you,” Luke offered you a lopsided smile, nose crinkling (something you noticed he did a lot when he felt complimented).
He continued his work, softly brushing over your closed eyelids, swiping the shimmer and makeup residue from your cheeks. He moved the towel downward and across your jaw, collecting a smear of lipstick that had half-faded, half-smudged (despite the packaging telling you it would do otherwise!)
“All gone?” you meekly asked, eyes fluttering open to meet the loving hazel of Luke’s.
You watched as your boyfriend tilted his head, examining your face under the light.
“Close enough,” he concluded, placing the towel next to the sink. “Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”
Ever the gentleman, Luke helped you back to your feet, suppressing his chuckles as you used him like your own tall, personal crutch.
Once inside your shared bedroom, he was swift to hand you an oversized t-shirt of his that he’d laid out for you earlier in the evening. It was one of your favourites, already soft and well worn in with the Michigan team logo long faded on the front.
Changing you took longer than Luke expected and was filled with minor catastrophes (like getting your arm through the wrong hole and nearly falling backward onto the bed, or getting your top tangled in your hair), but your boy stayed patient.
He didn’t care that you floundered like a fish out of water, he just cared that you were safe. Which is why throughout all those minor disasters, he kept his hand on your upper arm, ready to assist if needed.
When he finally managed to wrangle you into bed, tucked warmly beneath the covers, he turned to leave causing your hand to dart out and to grab onto his wrist.
“Where you goin’?”
He grinned that sunny grin you adored so wholeheartedly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Nowhere,” he promised, leaning down to cup your jaw. “Just grabbing us more water and turning off the lights.”
“Mmkay…hurry?”
Luke didn’t answer but nodded his head, leaving you to curl up beneath the sheets.
He returned less than a moment later, flicking off the hallway light, quickly pulling off his hoodie and sweatpants before slipping into bed beside you.
As soon as he lay down beside you, you immediately rolled into him, instinctively curling into his side. Your head moved to rest above his heart, your legs tangling with his, and your fingers slipping under his shirt to rest against the warm skin of his stomach.
“Thanks for takin' care of me,” you mumbled into his chest, moving your head to press a kiss to the line of his jaw.
“Always, sweet girl.”
Luke smiled, reaching up to smooth your hair away from your face, pressing one last kiss to your temple before pulling you even closer.
“Sleep now, I got you.”
And between the warmth of the bed, the alcohol coursing through your veins and the weight of Luke’s arms holding you tight, you allowed yourself to drift off into sleep feeling so impossibly loved.
Doing a deep clean of my childhood bedroom in my big age (don't worry!! I'll be back to writing sometime this week!!) and pulled a relic from my closet— a pair of bright red Louis Tomlinson toms😭😭😭
me except I told my mother if I was staying home this summer (and not in my college town) I needed to redo my room a bit because "its like a tomb of 16 year old me".
