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bring-forth-his-sac · 1 day ago

Note

Not sure if this is too far but maybe some dads best friend mixed in with close calls and very rough stuff if ya know what I mean 😏

Stained

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Tags: rough sex, degrading name calling (slut), mentions of a facial, cheating (soz Lucille), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, semi-public sex

It happened again.

By now, Negan knows the routine. Argue. Say shit neither one of them can take back. Lucille kicks him out or else Negan reaches his limit and storms out. Make up later. It’s their pattern.

But tonight is different.

They were supposed to go to a friend’s house for dinner, which threw a wrench in their usual routine. A part of Negan still wanted to go. Sure, he dreaded the tension-filled conversation, Lucille throwing in her usual passive-aggressive digs, but there was a silver lining: he could vent afterward. He needed to. To someone who’d actually get it, without the sugar-coating.

Negan has been friends with your dad for years, long enough to know they could trade a few sharp words and move on without it turning into some dramatic scene. Sometimes, Negan could really use that kind of blunt, no-nonsense talk with another guy.

But hell, he wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with you either. You always got his humor and honestly, you were the only one who could make him laugh without trying so damn hard.

Instead of your home, he finds himself at a bar. Lucille was quick to call dibs on going solo to your parents house, not wanting to deal with Negan in front of friends.

He left without another word, driving to the local watering hole like a man on a mission.

The bar is the usual kind of dimly lit place that doesn't ask questions. Negan doesn’t need questions tonight. What he needs is a drink and a distraction.

He settles onto a chair by the bartop and orders a whiskey, the burn of it going down smoother than he expected.

Lucille’s parting words echo in his head, the sharpness of her dismissal stinging all over again. The way she had shut him down so easily, almost like telling off a child. Negan can feel the frustration creeping back in. He could’ve used a laugh tonight but instead, he’s stuck here.

Alone, as usual.

On a typical night, Negan hates how quiet the bar is. He can’t stand silences, everything about it gets on his nerves. The patrons are too tight to even cough up a quarter to play a song on the jukebox. It always feels like the kind of place where the air is thick with nothingness and every minute stretches on longer than the last.

Negan doesn’t have the luxury to brood over that on this particular night. Instead, the loud chattering of a group of girls fills the bar, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

Just a handful of them crowd around a table, all bright-eyed and wide smiles, laughing as though the weight of the world hasn’t yet found them.

His brow furrows as he watches them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not doing anything wrong but the racket they’re making feels invasive in the normally subdued space.

Every time they laugh, the sound hits him like a hammer to his skull, ringing in his ears. It’s like a constant, steady hum of disruption. Negan can appreciate a little noise and some new life in the place, but tonight?

Tonight, it’s too much. It’s frustrating him. He takes another swig of his whiskey but it doesn’t quite block out their high-pitched, frantic laughter.

One of the girls spills a drink, and the others burst into a fresh round of giggles, the kind that seems to echo through the entire room.

He’s about to look away when another girl quickly picks up the drink and continues to say something. She's sitting across from the others, leaning forward and talking animatedly, her hands flying through the air with each word.

One of her hands subtly goes to her thigh and she tries to discreetly yank down her dress.

Negan wonders if women know they don’t need to wear tight mini dresses or the crop tops to get laid. But he supposes that’s the joy of being a youngster. They do stupid shit, wear stupid shit, drink stupid shit. Some grow out of it while others still say stupid shit and end up drinking alone at a bar.

His eyes flicker over her figure. Negan can’t see her face, the angle of her head and the way her body is half-turned away from him hides it.

Negan doesn’t mind. He can still appreciate her thighs and the curve of her ass from his seat at the bar. Her hair and back covers most of her upper body too so Negan can’t appreciate any titty action just yet.

His fingers drum against the bar and he catches himself, realizing that he’s staring. He quickly looks away, taking another drink of his whiskey as if the liquid will wash away whatever was just stirred up inside him.

In a way, Negan’s glad you’re not like that. You’re pretty without all the extra shit. Since elementary school, you've never been the type to crave attention or stand out in a crowd. Yet you're not the kind of introvert who keeps completely to yourself either.

You fall somewhere in the middle, comfortable with who you are without needing to put on a show for anyone.

There’s been plenty of times you’ve been the most entertaining thing to Negan at your parent’s dinner parties. He loves the witty remarks you toss his way and how you both quietly poke fun at the evening while the others remain oblivious. Those little moments are the highlight of his night.

But, of course, there are also those other times. When a careless comment from your father or mother hits a nerve and you retreat into yourself, disappearing into the background. Negan can always tell when that happens; the sharpness in your eyes dulls and the sarcastic remarks you usually offer him vanish.

He wonders if you’ll be disappointed tonight, when it’s only Lucille who arrives for dinner. You make the dinners bearable for him but surely you reciprocate that feeling. Both of you are as thick as thieves in your own subtle way.

The woman he’s been checking out stands, saying one more quick thing to her friends before she turns and heads for the bar.

Maybe it’s because you’re already clouding his thoughts that seeing you in person hits him even harder. He’s imagined you a thousand times, with your quiet demeanor and the casual clothes you wear that make you almost invisible.

The mental image of you is so vivid, it’s like you’ve been etched into his mind… yet here you are, so different than that.

You do the same action that you did earlier, yanking down the end of your dress as it threatens to ride up your thigh. Negan lets out a gulp, not sure how he feels at the fact that he’s been checking out his friend’s daughter.

Turning back to say something to your friends, you let out a laugh as you clog along in your high heels to the bar.

This is exactly what you needed. A night away from all your worries and stresses… and your parents.

Besides, you're an adult now. You’re allowed to have fun! Whether that be crazy golf, drinking until you need your stomach pumped or smoking whatever. No matter how much guilt or pressure your parents try to put on you, tonight is yours. You’re no longer bound by their expectations. You can take a break from being the person they want you to be and just be.

Maybe that’s why the words “Lydia found out her boyfriend cheated so everyone was going to go over to hers and cheer her up!” came out of your mouth when you told your parents you couldn’t stay for dinner instead of “We all want to go out and down tequila shots!”.

Whether your actual reasoning would’ve worked or not, it doesn’t matter because they let you out with no more than a remorseful look as you left to help your heartbroken friend.

“Get more salt sachets!” a giddy Lydia calls out as you clip-clop up to the bar.

You’re so caught up in your own little bubble of excitement that you barely notice the guy at the bar. You wait beside him, leaning on the counter and waiting until the bartender comes over. When you feel his eyes linger, you glance his way, wondering if you’ve found some fun for the night.

You look over, pre-emptively batting your eyes lashes everything seems to slow down. There, standing just a few inches away, is Negan. Your dad’s friend.

You freeze for a moment, excuses caught in your throat, as you realize that it’s not just the familiarity of his face that’s throwing you off. It’s the way he's looking at you. Negan’s expression is unreadable but the way his gaze lingers has a weight that catches you off guard.

You try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. What is he thinking? How long has he been standing there? And why, of all people, did it have to be him?

You hate it. On one hand, you want to ignore him. Maybe give him a nod of acknowledgment before pretending like you’re not in front of someone you’ve known since you were a kid.

But on the other hand, you know what Negan’s like and the last thing you want is for him to loudly draw attention to your… friendship?

Ushering yourself closer, you hurriedly whisper “What are you doing here?!”.

Negan struggles to maintain his composure, forcing himself to keep his eyes on your face instead of letting them wander.

“What am I doing here?” His jaw clenches as if readying himself to barrage you with questions “What are you doing here, dressed like that? Are you drunk? Do your parents know you’re here? I swear….”.

You scoff defensively, glancing down at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Oh so I can’t go out with friends but you’re allowed to drown your sorrows?”.

Negan doesn’t even entertain your question, immediately waving it off. “That’s not the damn point,” he hisses “I’m not the one with my tits out and stumbling around a bar!”.

He shoots some other patrons a glare as they try to eavesdrop, making sure they keep their eyes to themselves. You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. Maybe your dress is a lower cut than what you’d usually wear but your boobs aren’t about to pop out of the thing!

“You— you can’t talk to me like that!” despite how your face flushes, you stand your ground. You’ve always known Negan to be raunchy but not once has he ever spoken to you like this before.

"Can't talk to you like what?” Negan doesn’t give you the time to ponder that rhetorical question, crossing his arms as he continues to lecture you.

“You think you look appropriate right now? You think your parents would approve of this outfit?" his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m out with friends, not at dinner with my parents!” You defend, deciding to add in your own jab “Besides, I thought you were at theirs tonight, having dinner with Lucille… not drinking alone”.

Negan can’t keep still. He’s too antsy, wanting to shake some sense into you but trying to stay cool in public.

With an elbow propped up on the bar, Negan points a finger at you “Watch it, before I haul your ass outta here”.

This is the closest you’ve ever seen Negan to real anger. Whenever he’s been at your house, it’s always been the aftermath of it you’ve witnessed. His sullen mood and Lucille’s small comments at him whenever the conversation allowed; both of them handling their simmering frustration in their own way.

To not only witness his anger first hand, but to have it directed at you… you’re not sure if you want to pout or get on your knees right then and there.

You scoff, trying to seem unbothered. “Enjoy your drink, I’m going back to my friends,” you say it with just enough sass, turning to retreat back to your table.

You know it’s a pointless endeavour.

Negan won’t allow it. And you know it.

His hand snakes around your upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Oh no you don't,” he tugs you back, urging you to face him again “we’re leaving. Now”.

You were hoping for a little more time here, a bit more back-and-forth, rile him up before hopefully breaking down those stubborn walls.

“You can leave, but I’m not!” you snap, digging your heels in.

He leans in close, his anger flaring back to life as his voice drops into a dangerously low growl. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart, I’m telling you” the pet name slips out like a command, making something tighten in your chest.

“You’re drunk, you’re dressed like a goddamn slut and you’re not staying in this bar another second”.

Is it bad you can feel the heat between your legs as he degrades you? How is it your dad’s friend, someone you kinda considered your own friend too, is calling you a slut so easily? And why does he keep trying to steal quick glances at your chest?

Heh, well, you know the answer to that last question.

Still, you play your part and you slap his arm. “Don’t call me that! Jackass” you say with a defiant huff.

His eyes widen but Negan doesn’t acknowledge the slap in the way you wanted him to. Instead of continuing to bicker, he grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and throws it on, his movements sharp.

“Jackass?” he repeats, clearly not amused.

“Yes! You’re acting like a major jackass!” you fire back, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in your voice.

Negan grins, that mocking, almost wicked smile spreading across his face as steers you away from the bar.

“Yeah, and you know what else I am?” he asks “The one dragging your drunk, barely dressed ass out of this bar before you make a complete fool of yourself”.

He starts tugging you toward the exit. “I had like… two drinks!” you protest, stumbling slightly to keep up.

But just as he’s about to drag you out the door, you use all the momentum you have to shove him into the door right next to the exit.

The ladies toilets.

Your friends giggle as you both disappear from sight, assuming you’re hooking up with the stranger. They’ve always known you have a thing for older men but little do they know who he really is…

Negan stumbles into the bathroom, his mind still trying to process how he went from the exit to somehow ending up in here instead. His brow furrows as he takes in the situation.

Before he can say a word, you speak, your voice steady but firm “Negan, I’m not leaving”.

He steps closer “Yes. You. Are. We’re leaving. Right. Now”. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you’re already one step ahead. You sidestep him, narrowly avoiding his grip.

“No!” you exclaim, more forcefully than you intended. Hoping to get through to him, you soften your tone, offering a sliver of vulnerability. “My parents don’t know I’m here… they think I’m just at a friend’s place” you admit.

Your words hang in the air, a soft confession of rebellion. But Negan’s response is as expected—he rolls his eyes, the action exaggerated as if he’s heard this excuse a thousand times before.

“I don’t give a fuck if your parents ground you for a year!” He snaps, his voice low but intense “You’re not staying here dressed like that and acting like this”.

“Acting like what? Having fun?”.

His jaw clenches. “By acting like you’re only worth a quick fuck in the backseat of someone’s car,” Negan replies, the words carrying a weight that makes your stomach sink.

The insult stings, but you refuse to back down. With a small scoff, you shake your head and tilt your chin up slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that when you were young?” you challenge.

Negan’s expression falters for a split second, his lips twitching as if he’s about to crack a grin but he maintains his steely expression.

He exhales sharply through his nose, his stance stiffening. “I did it because I’m a guy,” he mutters, his tone clipped “so it’s different”.

“That’s misogynist,” you point out as you cross your arms, unintentionally making your cleavage more noticeable.

For a moment, you catch Negan’s gaze flickering downward before snapping back up to your eyes, his face strained.

His lips press together in a tight line, his eyes briefly closing in frustration as he fights to maintain his composure. “Fuck, can you just…” Negan gestures vaguely at you “Cover up or something?”.

Without waiting for an answer, Negan turns away, running a hand through his dark locks.

You let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t bring a jacket,” you say flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

He mutters something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch. With a dramatic huff, he whips off his leather jacket. “Of course you didn’t. On top of everything else, you want to get hypothermia too” His voice drips with exasperation.

Negan turns back to you, holding out the jacket, his eyes briefly look to your chest again before quickly darting back to your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You catch the slight pause, the way his gaze betrays him, but you choose not to acknowledge it— at least, not directly. You stare him down, not hiding the smirk plastered on your face. Then, in one swift movement, he practically hurls the jacket at you.

“Here,” he says, the word a little too resigned.

Instinctively, you catch the jacket, but you don’t put it on. Instead, you hold it in your arms, letting it drape over them as you roll your eyes at his comments.

“I’m not some delicate little flower,” you tease, your smirk becoming playful “maybe I like it rough”.

The words slip out without thinking, a little too flippantly, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Maybe those two drinks were enough to get you tipsy after all.

Negan’s eyes narrow at you and you can see the gears turning in his head. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe disbelief, but before he can say anything, you catch the faintest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He steps closer, his imposing frame shadowing you as he leans in. “Damn, you’re something else,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming presence he has, but for the first time tonight, you feel a small shiver run up your spine.

“Rough, huh?” His words are like a threat, his tone smooth and dangerous.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, and suddenly, he has a firm grip on your hair, tugging it just enough to pull your head back.

“Ow! Negan!!” You whine, your voice a mix of surprise and irritation. Good job at proving you like it rough.

He loosens his grip, but his fingers stay tangled in your hair, holding you captive in his gaze. He stares down at you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“You think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost possessive “But this? Telling me you like it rough? Tsk, tsk, tsk”.

Your heart skips a beat at the admission, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. The words settle in your chest, warm and electric, and for a split second, everything else fades away.

Negan thinks you’re gorgeous.

You can barely process it but you don’t get a chance to let the moment settle. His fingers tighten in your hair again, this time with purpose.

“There’s a difference,” he growls, his voice rougher now, “between making eyes at some random guy at a bar and teasing a man who actually knows what to do with you”.

You swallow hard. His grip on you, the way he towers over you, his scent— all of it feels like a pressure you can’t escape. You can barely breathe.

“And you…” You pause, testing the waters “You know what to do with me?”.

And then, possibly the most un-hot thing happens. A toilet flushes. The sound is loud and sudden, causing you both to freeze. It comes from one of the stalls at the end of the room and it’s quickly followed by the drunken shuffling of feet and a zipping noise.

Without a word, you and Negan lock eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between you in that single, charged moment.

“Shit,” Negan mutters under his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair, but now pulling you toward the nearest empty cubicle with urgency.

“Ouch!” you whisper, batting at his hand and making him untangle his hand from your hair. You barely have time to shoot him a glare before he’s guiding you into the small space, his body close behind you.

Just as the cubicle at the end of the room unlocks, the lock to your cramped cubicle slots into place with a soft click.

For a moment, you both hold your breath. You’re pressed together in the cramped space, his chest against your back, your bodies flush together.

You hear the drunken patron stumble, mumbling something unintelligible as they turn on one of the taps and start washing their hands. You both hold still, waiting for the heavy footsteps to move away. Negan holds you against him, one hand on your waist to keep you close.

Although that’s not the only thing that’s touching you.

It’s hard not to notice the unmistakable press of his semi-erect cock nestling against the curve of your ass. It feels firm yet pliant, a promise of things to come.

Turning your head just enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy zoning into some spot in the stall door as he listens intently to the patron outside.

His brow furrows just slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening as he focuses. You can tell he's strategizing, weighing up different excuses in case he’s caught in the ladies room. Negan’s lips are pressed together, a slight tension around them, but it's not a scowl.

Deciding you want some attention, you press your ass back slightly. You hear a grunt.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” he huffs. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he looks down.

Through the thin walls, you can hear the drunk go on their way, their footsteps slowly fading as they stagger out of the bathroom. The door swings shut with a final, echoing creak.

As if to prove his point, Negan moves his hips forward, forcing his erection against your ass. He’s harder than you thought and you shudder at the mere size of the thing in his pants.

He makes a quiet, pleased sound against your ear as his hand trails up your waist, teasing passing the side of your breast before settling on the back of your neck.

“Fuck, you're responsive…” He pulls back slightly, making sure you can still feel him.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask softly.

He chuckles, his voice low and husky. “It's a dangerous thing, darlin,” he squeezes your neck teasingly “Nothing good ever comes from being too responsive... unless you're trying to drive a man wild”.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m trying to do” you push back against him again, this time bending your body slightly to really accentuate your ass.

Except all that does is encourage your dress to ride up your thighs again, stopping just before your ass. Grabbing his leather jacket from your arms, Negan tosses it up on the stall door before moving to your thighs.

Negan isn’t a one to waste time, especially when it comes to taking advantage of certain situations. Bringing both hands down to your thighs, he helps you dress by tugging it up in one swift movement. You let out a gasp as the cool, thankfully air conditioned bathroom making the skin on your ass get goosebumps.

“Negan! I-“ you move to turn away so he can’t see your ass but Negan’s one step ahead this time.

Looping an arm around your torso, he makes sure you keep the squirming to a minimum. With his other hand, he brings it down between your legs and presses a finger against your panties.

He holds you in place, bent at the hips and ass against his crotch. You can feel the dampness of your panties against your heat. The wetness seeps into the fabric, making it stick to the lips of your pussy.

“Fuck me, you are soaked!” with no qualms about modesty, Negan swipes the tacky panties to the side and gets a feel of your folds himself.

You stop a moan from escaping, not wanting to be too eager. "Goddamn, you're a sticky little mess, ain't ya? All wet and sloppy, just fucking dripping” he teases your hole, momentarily pressing a finger to it but never dipping inside.

Hoping to gain some control, you go to stand up straight. The thoughts of looking into his eyes as he fingers you is more appealing than your view being the wall of a bathroom stall.

But Negan isn’t as fond of the idea. The arm looped around you quickly makes its way to your back, forcing you to stay bent. You let out a scoff as the side of your face smushes against the wall.

“Negan, what the fuck?” You whine, blindly throwing one of your arms back at him “If you’re gonna finger me, at least let me enjoy it!”.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabs your arm and presses it against your back, restraining you before he continues his exploration of your pussy “I get to decide how the fuck we do this”.

You quieten down when you feel a finger trace your folds, spreading your wetness around. “You this much of a slut for every guy or am I just lucky?” He asks, chuckling at his own thoughts “Your friends were cheering like this is a usual thing for you”.

Before you can reply, Negan plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, his thumb grinding against your clit. “I— ah!” You mewl, trying to give a coherent response “N-no, never!”.

Negan picks up his pace, loving how you give in, basically slumping against the wall. “See, doll, I want to believe you. I mean, I don’t know that many sluts that get this fucking wet from just a little grinding… it’s shameful, really” he curls his fingers to hit the perfect spot, making your squirm.

“But in saying that,” Negan continues, his breath hitting against your neck as he leans closer “I don’t know that many modest gals that wear something like this”.

Deciding you know better than to repeat your mistake and move again, Negan takes his hand off your back and paws at your chest instead. But in true Negan fashion, he needs to up his antics.

Tugging down the low cut neckline of your dress, you hear a ripping noise as he pulls at the fabric and forces it down past your bra.

“Huh… surprised your modest enough to wear a bra” he comments, quickly rectifying the situation. Without warning, Negan roughly shoves the bra cups up, freeing your tits completely. "Fuck, look at these," he growls, appreciating the sight of your breasts spilling out.

The fingers he has working your hole pause and retreat, much to your disappointment. You take the opportunity to turn around to face him, starting to feeling a crick in your neck from being smushed up by the wall.

“Asshole, you tore my dress“ your voice is laced with frustration, although that may be from how much you want him to stop teasing and fuck you already.

With an amused scoff, Negan goes to hold up his hands in surrender. His fingers glisten with your juices. “I’m trying to be a gentlemen here, doll” he chuckles as he defends himself.

You fight the urge to cover yourself, knowing that’s what he’s waiting for. He wants to see that shy side, to see you blush and get flustered.

You glare at him instead “How is this being a gentleman?”.

“Well, I coulda just ripped it clean off, but I left ya some dignity,” Negan smirks, crowding you again. You’re left no choice but to back into the wall, holding your glare as you look up at him.

“And I've fingered ya before fucking ya which is pretty damn noble” he adds, seeing you battle between staying annoyed and wanting to blush. You open your mouth to complain but a loud moan comes out instead as Negan pinches one of your nipples.

He thumbs your hard nipples, chuckling as they perk up even more under his touch. “Damn, always knew you’d have a good pair on ya," he muses “fuckin’ perfect”.

Negan doesn't hesitate, leaning down to engulf one nipple in his mouth. He sucks hard, letting his teeth graze the sensitive bud as he kneads the other breast roughly. Groaning around your nipple, he switches to the other, assaulting it with the same fervent enthusiasm.

With a grunt, Negan grabs your thighs and hoists you up, pinning you against the wall with his muscular body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms going around his shoulders.

Negan grinds his still clothed cock against your bare pussy, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper.

The rough denim of his pants provides no comfort, each thrust of his hips pressing his erection directly against your sensitive clit. "You feel that?" He asks against your tit “Want you to beg for it, gotta hear ya saying it”.

You have no hesitation. There is no reluctance to beg for him, not when you’re this close to getting what you thought would always be a wet dream.

"Please, Negan, I need it!" you beg, your hips bucking against his pants in desperate attempts to get friction. “I’ve wanted you for so long, to fuck me in my bedroom o-or on the dinner table! Fuck, anywhere! I don’t care!”.

That seems to convince him. Reaching down and fumbling with his jeans, Negan has his cock out in record time. He grips the base, stroking it a few times as he lines it up with your soaked pussy.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the tip barely peeking out from between your folds. Negan slowly eases in, allowing you to adjust to his massive size.

You writhe and moan against him, trying to keep your body relaxed as he enters you. Trying your best to keep eye contact, you let out a string of whimpers as he fills you completely.

"Damn, I actually fit," he says, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. Negan pulls out carefully, as if testing the waters before plunging back into your needy pussy with vigor.

"Holy fuck, even tighter than I imagined. Built for my dick, aren't you?" he grunts, starting to fuck you hard.

Each brutal thrust of his hips drives his thick cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you wide open. "Fuck, you're so tight it feels like my dick is splitting you in half. Love it. Fucking love it" Negan rambles on and grabs your thighs, spreading them as wide as he can.

"Fuck, Negan... you're so..." you try to speak "ah!”. It’s all too much in the best way possible. That delicious ache of being so thoroughly penetrated, the feeling of absolute fullness with each deep thrust.

"More... fuck me more..." your hips arch up to meet his thrusts, trying to keep up.

Negan angles his hips upwards, hitting that spot inside you over and over as he pounds into you. "Look at me," He growls, "Look at me while I break you in half with my dick. You like that? You like feeling so stuffed?"

“I-I've never been this full before…” you say with teary eyes.

Negan notices your body tensing and shuddering beneath him, your pussy walls starting to flutter wildly around his thick cock. "Holy shit, there it is... Your cunt's squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice. You gonna cum on my dick?".

The pressure is building to an unbearable point, your entire body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Your mind goes blank, unable to answer his question as he hits that perfect spot.

Just as your orgasm hits, Negan feels your pussy clamp down around him like a silken fist. "Holy fuck..." you gasp, back arching as pure pleasure courses through your veins.

Your entire body quakes, inner muscles milking his cock as you ride out your intense orgasm. You dig your nails into his shoulders, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Negan grunts, fucking you through your intense orgasm with deep, deliberate strokes. He can feel your pussy spasming wildly around his shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. As the last waves shudder through you, he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with in the light.

He lets you stand for a moment but you legs are so wobbly, it’s difficult to support your weight after that intense orgasm.

Before you can even catch your breath, Negan grabs your shoulder roughly and forces you onto your knees. Your body complies in an instant, unable to fight against such force.

Your knees ache as they hit the bathroom floor but that’s the least of your concerns. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock, lips parted as you anticipate him coming all over your face.

"Fuckin' hell, such a pretty face..." He strokes his throbbing cock with his fist, ready to explode.

But instead of aiming for your face, Negan aims his cock at your chest, unleashing a thick, hot load of cum all over your tits. He groans loudly as he paints your breasts with his seed, the warm liquid dripping down between your cleavage and seeping into the fabric of your dress.

“Next time you’re either swallowing it or you’re getting a facial courtesy of yours truly” he informs you, although the only piece of information you truly savor from that is ‘next time’.

Doing the gentlemanly thing, he grabs some tissue from the toilet paper dispenser and hands it to you. You dab at your chest, knowing the dress is a lost cause and will probably have to be thrown out later.

“Help me up?” You ask, somewhat shyly once you’re done.

Taking your arm in a much more gentle grip than before, Negan helps you up, subtly looking over your chest to make sure you’ve wiped off all of him. “You feeling alright?” he asks lowly, as if remembering the public place you’re both in.

You blink, giving yourself a moment to calm, your body still humming with the aftermath. “That was…” you pause, collecting your thoughts, “...wow.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he slips his leather jacket off the stall door. “Well, that’s a better response than I expected,” he says with a smirk, draping the jacket around your shoulders and gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. Without a word about how the jacket nearly swallows you whole, he zips it up, pulling it snug to cover your chest.

This is a completely different side to the Negan you’ve seen tonight. This is the Negan that gives you a small, reassuring smile after your parents throw some off handed insult your way.

The two of you stand close, your breaths mingling. Slowly, the space between your faces narrows, as if drawn by some unspoken pull. You gently tilt your head, just enough to bring your lips into alignment with his.

The kiss is a tender brush. Featherlight and hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss you’d expect before going at it like a bunch of animals… not afterwards.

The kiss lingers, still tasting of warmth and something unspoken. Pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his, you can feel the soft touch of his lips still tingling on yours. You mutter against his lips, almost sheepishly “Can you drop me home?”.

His lips curl into a quiet smile, a slight glint in his eyes as he nods. “Considering I didn’t get to finish my first glass of whiskey, yeah I should be good,” Negan gives you a playful look.

Unable to help yourself, you give him a small smile. It’s not as seductive or teasing as the ones you have given him previously. In all honestly, it feels like Negan has fucked the seductiveness out of you– if that’s even possible.

“... So this wasn’t some drunken mistake?” you ask coyly.

Negan wraps an arm around your shoulders as he unlocks the stall door and carefully guides you out. ”Wear a dress like that the next time I’m at your parents for dinner and you’ll find out” he replies with a smirk.

Besides his tousled hair, Negan still looks fine. He’s not dishevelled or out of breath or having trouble walking… all things you attribute to yourself.

Negan notices your state too, keeping his arm around you as you subtly leave the bathrooms and head for the exit. If it’s even possible, Negan pulls you closer, guiding you out like a drunk that’s had one too many. His presence is possessive in the gentlest of ways.

You give your friends a knowing look as you both leave, one that says you’ll explain everything later.

The sound of drunken chattering and laughter fades as you step out into the night, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the parking lot.

When you reach the car, he opens the door for you with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving yours as you slide into the seat. A few moments later, Negan slides into the driver's seat and the engine rumbles to life.

The car doesn’t even get out of the parking lot before Negan’s hand finds yours. The ride home is quiet. He doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence between you feels relaxed.

Every now and then, his thumb gently brushes across the back of your hand like a quiet reassurance. He doesn’t mention the contact, simply letting it linger.

The soft, rhythmic motion of the car becomes like a lullaby and with every mile, the weight of the night lifts just a little more. Every so often, you glance over at him, his face relaxed. When your eyes meet, he offers a smile and you sleepily return it.

Negan doesn’t pull up directly outside your house. Strategically stopping his car a little down the street, he sighs.

“Hate to say it but I’ll need that jacket back,” he gives you a once over, as if to memorize what his leather jacket looks like on you.

Fiddling with the zipper, you mumble “So I’m supposed to walk in there with a ripped up dress?”.

He laughs at that, shaking his head before reaching into the backseat. “Here, I know it’s dirty but it’s the best I can offer,” Negan hands you a sweatshirt.

The sweatshirt is faded, its fabric softened from years of use. The sleeves are slightly frayed at the cuffs and a few small holes hint at its age. On the front, several dark oil stains mark where hands have wiped off grease, probably from Negan when working on his motorbike.

But most importantly, it smells like him.

As you take off his jacket and put on the sweatshirt instead, Negan gives you some privacy and looks away. “Are you coming in too?” You ask, gently placing his jacket on his lap once you’ve changed.

Taking that as his signal to look, Negan gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not tonight, darlin,” he replies “think Lucille would chop my nuts off with your mom’s fancy silver if I showed my face”.

“You two are fighting that bad?”.

Negan shrugs “Same old, same old”.

You try not to fidget with the frayed sleeves of his sweatshirt, not wanting to pick at it right in front of him.

“And… this?” You focus your attention at simply inspecting the sleeves instead of picking at them “I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a drunken mistake but still… I get it if you wanna pretend like it never happened”.

As much as you wanted quick reassurance, you’re met with silence.

Negan leans back in his seat, taking his eyes away from yours and looking at the street. Up ahead, he can see the porch light on to your parents house. Although, he doubts Lucille will be leaving anytime soon. She’ll probably stay late, try to wait it out until Negan has drank himself silly and fallen asleep.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” he says with little emotion “It ain’t right. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone in a ten mile radius would call me all sorts of names if they knew about it… fucking your friend’s daughter is a whole mess”.

You stay quiet, unsure whether you should just get out now.

“But shit, if you wanted to suck my dick right now, I wouldn’t say no,” he chuckles “it’s a fucked up thing to say but I wouldn’t mind something like this happening again”.

That puts a smile back on your face. Getting ready to leave, you say “Maybe if you come to dinner next time, I will suck your dick”.

Negan watches you with narrowed eyes. Of course you’d be able to make his dick twitch again, making him feel like a teenager that could get it up over and over again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns as you get out.

“Good,” you hop out of the car, giving him one last flirtatious smirk before going “I hope you do”.

Closing the door, you strut along the pavement, your heels clicking as you go to your house. Walking has never seemed so hard, not only because of your shoe choice but from the aching in your gut and your legs wobbling more than you’d like to admit.

Still, you try to do your best to walk straight, knowing Negan is watching.

When you get to the front door, you give Negan one last glance before disappearing inside. He wait a few moments before starting up his car and leaving.

The first thing you hear is a chorus of polite laughter from the dining room. Great, looks like they’re still in the midst of dinner. Before you have a chance to debate if you could get upstairs without them hearing, you hear your father call out your name.

“Is that you?” He calls out.

Reluctantly, you walk in, lingering by the doorway. Your parents to turn in their dining chairs to face you. Whereas Lucille has you right in her line of view. She offers you a gracious smile as you enter.

“I thought you were staying at Lydia’s tonight,” you mom says, eyeing your sweatshirt and what appears to be a skirt. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on how short it is.

“Eh, Lydia talked things out with her boyfriend so they’re back together again,” you lie casually “you know how they are; fight, break up and make up”.

Lucille casts her gaze down slightly, as if your words hit a little too close to home for her. You shift uncomfortably.

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you’re hungry” your mom says, blissfully unaware.

“I’m ok,” you give her a smile “I think I might just shower and head to bed early”.

“Alright,” she already waves you off, turning back in her seat “if you’re sure”.

You don’t linger, giving them a polite nod before leaving. It’s only when you turn to leave does Lucille look at you again.

She’s never believed in coincidences. And she’s never believed you to be into repairing cars. She knows the faint stains on your sweatshirt, mainly because she’s the one who spent hours trying to scrub them out… only for Negan to reward her with new stains on the damn thing.

Nodding along with whatever it is your father is saying, Lucille’s mind strays further and further from the dinner and to Negan instead.

Something’s happened. What exactly, she’s not sure. But you’re involved and so is her damned husband.

—————

A/N: thought I’d put in a quick note just to say thanks for reading and apologies for disappearing all month! My family almost got scammed out of 11k (it was insane) but!! More importantly!! I got seriously bad writers block so apologies if this fic is a little choppy, I’m still getting back into my stride!!

#negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #twd negan #negan #negan smith #negan twd #twd smut #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #twd x reader #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan smith smut #negan smut

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e-dubbc11 · 1 day ago

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A Few Quiet Minutes

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: None, really. Fluff and smooches mostly

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: After a long hunt, you and Dean are on your way back to the bunker. He’s driving and you’re trying to stay awake in the back seat.

A/N: Feel like I’ve been writing a lot for Dean lately(in my Winchester era, if you will🤣) The ideas have just been coming for him more so than anyone else lately. I like the way this one turned out, I hope you do too 💙 Also, Happy Birthday Dean Winchester! 🥳🥳🥳

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“You awake back there?” Dean called out as he was driving.

His deep gravelly voice bounced off the interior of the Impala as your eyes briefly met his in the rear view mirror then went back to looking out the window.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m awake. I don’t know for how much longer though.” You replied, staring at the raindrops that had landed against the glass, before the sky had cleared and gave way to a thumbnail moon.

“Diggin’ up graves is tougher than it looks, huh sweetheart.” Said Dean.

You yawned and on your exhale, you fogged up the back window.

“A little.” You stated with a slight smile.

The slight lines around his eyes crinkled as he quickly glanced at you again in the mirror. You knew he was smiling at you.

After being on the road for days, the long and grueling hunt was finally over and you were nothing short of exhausted. The rumble of the engine sang a thrilling melody as you heard the tires turning against the wet pavement.

Baby’s resonant purr hummed against your backside as your eyelids started to feel very heavy and the dim glow of the lights along the empty road shined into the car windows.

You were supposed to be helping Dean stay awake but you kept sinking lower and lower into the back seat.

“Wake up, baby. You’re supposed to be helping ME stay awake.” Said Dean.

Curling your legs up onto the bench seat, you grumbled and replied, “Come onnnnnn, Dean! I’m tired!”

“Do I have to stop and put the windows down, y/n?” He threatened.

Dean chuckled a little. He knew how tired you were, how tired you both were. Staying in crappy motel rooms for the past few days, where the mattresses were hard as rocks and the pillows were flat as pancakes, it’s a wonder you got any sleep at all.

But being together made it easier. As long as you were with him, it didn’t matter that the mattress was uncomfortable or that the pillow was so flat, it was basically a part of the mattress. Dean was your comfort, not the bed. His chest was your pillow and his body was your blanket.

You loved him and he loved you in return.

Listening to the muted growling of the Impala, it didn’t take long before you were fast asleep in the backseat. Stretched out across the seat, the vibrations calmed you and let you fall into a deeper slumber.

With a loud squeak, you thought you heard the driver’s side door close. Dean was probably just putting gas in the car and getting a snack but as you started to drift off again, the back door opened and he lightly tugged on your pant leg.

“You got room for one more back here, sweetheart?” He asked, softly.

As your eyes fluttered open, you could make out the wide smile across his lips and feel his hand resting on your leg. As your eyes tried to focus on his handsome face, he climbed in, closed and locked the door behind him, and crawled up your body until his face was directly in front of yours.

Surprised and still trying to wake up, his name fell from your lips, “Dean? Are we back already?” You asked.

“Ah not yet, baby. I’m a little tired, could use a bit of a nap. And one of these…” Said Dean, as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours.

His lips tasted like salt and even though you both were filthy from digging up bones in the cemetary, his shirt still smelled like clean laundry. As you parted your lips, Dean’s tongue slipped into your mouth to tangle with yours and he firmly pressed his hips against your core.

Aside from sleeping next to each other, you and Dean hadn’t been this close in a few days. It felt so good to run your fingers through his soft brown hair and tightly cling to him as if to silently tell him how much you’ve missed him.

Dean kissed you hard and deep as his calloused hands mapped your body and his fingers grazed the soft skin of your stomach. Your body molded perfectly to his while you could hear your heart beating loudly in your ears.

You gasped loudly into his ear as his lips kissed the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and a wide smile stretched across your lips.

He missed you too.

“Well…that was more than one kiss, baby.” You whispered as you gently raked your nails against his scalp.

“Can I still take a nap with you? Please?” Asked Dean, with a sly smile.

He had pulled over on a very secluded strip of road. You hadn’t heard a single car drive past you since he parked the Impala. You struggled to find the slightest of sounds, the whispers against each other’s ears was the only noise for miles in every direction which, if you were alone, would have made you feel very uneasy.

But in his arms you were safe and he would never let anything happen to you.

“You weren’t really tired at all, were you?” You asked with a narrowed expression and in a slightly accusatory tone.

The blanket of navy blue cradled the crescent silver claw of a moon along with the stars that looked like little pin pricks of white against the late night sky. It was just bright enough to make out the sprinkle of freckles across his nose and the laugh lines around his pale green eyes.

Dean pressed his lips together, closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Not really. Well…maybe just a little. Sweetheart, I just feel like I haven’t touched you in a month.” He exaggerated, sweeping his knuckles across your cheek. “That was a long hunt, between the late night research, and talking to witnesses. It’s just been a long few days.”

His eyes were tired. Even in the low glow of the moonlight, you could see he needed rest.

“Switch places with me.” You said as your body was still pinned underneath him. “You can be my pillow.”

Dean rolled until the bench seat was underneath his back and your body was draped over his, listening to his heart beat steadily inside his chest. The Impala windows were cracked open slightly to allow the chilled air inside as the scent of pine trees and damp earth floated past your nose.

“That better?” Asked Dean, draping his arm around you and slightly propping his head up with his other hand.

You hummed softly against his chest.

“Hmmmm…it’ll do until we get home. I miss our bed.” You said in barely more than a whisper.

He kissed the top of your head and replied, “Me too, baby. When we get back, you can take a shower first.”

Nervously touching the buttons on his shirt, you picked your head up and with a warm smile, said, “How about you join me, handsome?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth turned up into a sly smile, he gently pressed his lips to your forehead, and said, “Sounds like a plan to me, baby.”

After days of hunting, barely sleeping, and putting the case before anything else, you were finally able to decompress and relax with the man you loved…even if it was just for a few quiet minutes in the back of the Impala.

It was the best nap you’ve ever had.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #supernatural

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grandpeachpersona · 1 day ago

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It's A Man's World

Chapter 10 ☆Moment 4 Life☆

Sorry this took so long I just kept hitting a roadblock while writing it but I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy as always feedback is appreciated ;) Word count: 2.17k Warnings: Lots of sports talk, Mentions of alcohol consumption, and tension😏

24 Hours before The World Series

The stage was set: Atlanta Braves vs. Houston Astros. And believe me, I was ready.

I let out a deep breath as I racked the bar on the squat rack. Working out always seemed to calm my nerves before a big game, especially this one.

I sat down on the beach and took a sip from my water bottle. Part of my brain hadn’t fully processed the fact that tomorrow was the biggest game of my career, while the other part was trying to focus and get into the zone.

“Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!” my mom called out, quoting The Nutty Professor while clapping her hands.

Looking over my shoulder, I shook my head and laughed. “Morning, Ma.”

“Good morning, sweetheart! Breakfast is ready,” she said, leaning against the doorway.

“You didn't have to; I was going to grab something before—” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“You know how I am,” she waved her hand. “Come on upstairs and eat before the pancakes get cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a fantastic breakfast made by Mom—something I'm sure my trainer will have a few words about later—I walked onto the field for practice. The familiar scents of fresh paint and damp dirt filled the air.

Practice felt different today and in a good way. Everyone was pushing themselves just a little harder, and smiles were on everyone's faces; rightfully so, considering tomorrow is the World Series—who wouldn't be excited?

Walking into the media room for what could possibly be my final time, I took a seat and quickly greeted everyone in the room.

“Sierra, how are the nerves less than 24 hours away from the World Series?” the first reporter asked.

I took a breath before answering. “Pretty good! I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous, because that would be a lie. But the right kind of nerves are good.”

“The last time you all played against the Astros, you lost a three-game series. Are you confident that you can beat them?” another reporter inquired.

Confident? Man, please.

“We don’t have any other choice but to beat them. I am confident that we’ve learned from our mistakes, and we will win,” I replied with conviction.

Once again, Mom commandeered my kitchen for dinner, but honestly, I can't complain. There's something comforting about her culinary prowess that makes the house feel warm and inviting.

Later that evening, as I settled down to unwind, I scrolled through Instagram when a notification caught my eye. I had been tagged in a video posted by the Bengals, and my curiosity piqued. Tapping on the notification, Joe's familiar face filled my screen, a snippet from his press conference earlier that day.

“The World Series starts tomorrow. Do you plan on watching?” a reporter asked, his voice steady with anticipation.

“Yeah, I do. Got to watch my girl get the win,” Joe replied, a wide grin lighting up his face.

Wait a minute—did he just say “my girl”?

It struck me like a bolt of lightning. We hadn't even been on a date yet, let alone discussed any labels or commitments, yet here he was, claiming me in front of the world.

Possessive? Yes. But I have to admit, I liked it.

World Series Game 1

Today is the day: Game 1 of the World Series.

Waking up felt different today. Getting dressed felt different. Even having my hair and makeup done felt different. Everything feels different, but not in a bad way—more like, this is my moment.

As I walk into the ballpark, I find myself not really paying attention to the cameras. My focus is on the game ahead of me, and I’m also trying not to trip in these heels. I see why I don’t wear them often—they hurt!

But that pain quickly faded away when the first pitch of the game was thrown.

Two teams will play between 4 to 7 games, all for one prize: the Commissioner’s Trophy. This is the World Series.

Game 1 is in the books. Unfortunately, we didn't secure a win, but that's okay; you win some, you lose some. The score was 4-8.

In Game 2, we bounced back with a blowout victory of 7-0.

Game 3 saw us lose home-field advantage, but we still managed to win in Houston, finishing with a score of 4-1.

In Game 4, Houston gained some momentum and narrowly won by one run, with a final score of 6-5.

Game 5 went into extra innings, but we pulled through and got the job done, ending with a score of 10-9.

In Game 6, the Astros clinched a victory with a grand slam, keeping their World Series hopes alive. The final score was 8-7.

Now, we find ourselves back in Atlanta for the last game of the series. As of right now, my nerves are on edge because, in this game, every hit counts, every out matters, and most importantly, every score matters.

It all comes down to this pivotal moment. The stadium is electric as I stand at the bottom of the 9th inning, two outs secured, with a runner perched on second base. With the score hanging in the balance at 8-7 against us, the weight of the situation bears down heavily on my shoulders.

I know exactly what I need to do: connect solidly with the ball and drive it deep into the outfield, giving the runner a chance to dash home. Easy, right? Just a casual swing in front of 31,000 fervent fans who are all hoping for a miracle.

Stepping into the batter's box, I adjust my helmet and take a deep breath, trying to drown out the cacophony of cheering and chanting that envelops Truist Park. The familiar strains of "It's A Man's World" echo in my ears, heightening my focus as I mentally prepare for what lies ahead.

I set my stance, feeling the cool air against my skin, and lock eyes with the pitcher on the mound. He’s a seasoned player, his demeanor calm, yet I can sense the tension rippling through him as he glances briefly at the runner on second before facing me again. With a swift motion, he winds up and launches his pitch toward me.

I tighten my grip on the bat and, as the ball approaches, I make the decision to check my swing. I hold back just in time, watching the ball sail past me — it’s a ball, one count, no strikes. I exhale slowly, mentally recalibrating for the next pitch.

Gathering my concentration again, I position myself for what could be my final chance. The pitcher goes through his routine again, taking a moment to check the runner’s position before propelling the ball towards me once more.

This time, I hold my breath as I watch the projectile race toward the plate. I swing my bat with everything I’ve got, the wood making solid contact with the ball. The sound is explosive, resonating like a whip crack through the air, sending a thrill through my veins.

As I adjust my stance, I see the ball soaring into the sky, arcing beautifully as it heads toward the outfield. It continues its ascent, disappearing over the stadium's walls and splashing into the waterfall display that adds to the ambiance of this incredible venue.

In that exhilarating moment, it hits me: we just won the World Series.

Holy shit… WE JUST WON THE WORLD SERIES!

In an adrenaline-fueled rush, I slam my bat to the ground, the echo of victory reverberating in my ears as I begin my journey around the bases. The stadium erupts in a deafening roar — fireworks burst overhead, illuminating the night sky, while the crowd erupts with cheers and shouts, a collective celebration of triumph.

Tossing my helmet aside, I approach home plate, my heart racing as my teammates swarm me the instant I touch it. They envelop me in a chaotic celebration, screaming and jumping in unison, pure joy radiating from every face.

This is the pinnacle of my dreams, a moment I’ve envisioned since I was just a nine-year-old girl playing wiffle ball in my backyard with my uncle. From being the only girl on the high school baseball team to earning a full-ride scholarship at LSU, and culminating in winning the state championship, this moment eclipses them all: winning the World Series.

God.

is.

good.

Every ounce of hard work, every sacrifice, every moment of doubt pales in comparison to the realization of this dream. I stand amidst the celebration, grateful, overwhelmed, and utterly elated. This is why I play.

After a whirlwind of interviews followed by a bear bath celebration, a refreshing shower, and an energetic afterparty, I finally stepped back into the comforting embrace of my home.

“Thanks again, Kyle,” I called out, watching as he made his way back toward the elevator, his figure illuminated by the soft hallway lights.

“No problem, sleep well,” he replied, flashing a warm smile before disappearing behind the elevator doors. The best driver in the world, hands down.

With a sigh of relief, I unlocked my front door and crossed the threshold, the familiar scent of home washing over me. I locked the door behind me and, with a gentle thud, dropped my duffle bag right at the entrance, mentally promising myself I’d unpack it tomorrow—or, more likely, later today. All I craved was the soft cocoon of my bed, a well-deserved sanctuary after such a long day.

As I rounded the corner toward my room, I noticed a sliver of light cutting through the darkness—the kitchen light glowed unexpectedly. I furrowed my brow, certain I hadn’t left it on. Perhaps my mom had flicked it on before heading out to the airport.

Curiosity piqued, I padded softly toward the kitchen, only to be met with an utterly unexpected sight: a strikingly handsome quarterback, standing 6’3” with tousled hair and piercing blue eyes, casually leaning against my counter like he owned the place.

“Surprise,” he said, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

A smile broke across my face as I shook my head in disbelief. “Surprise indeed,” I replied, the warmth of his presence igniting a flutter of happiness in my chest.

“C'mere,” Joe beckoned, his arms outstretched, inviting me into a hug that felt both familiar and incredibly grounding.

I stepped into his embrace, surrendering to the moment as he nestled a tender kiss on the top of my head. “Proud of you,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.

Emotions swelled within me, and I simply nodded, overwhelmed by his kindness.

Joe pulled back slightly, his gaze searching mine, an edge of concern etching his features. “You okay?”

Looking up at him, I nodded, a smile slipping out as I exhaled. “Yeah,” I breathed, “Just really, really happy—and maybe a little drunk,” I chuckled, the effects of the evening buzzing in my system. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago,” Joe replied, his tone laced with both excitement and regret. “Today starts my bye week, and I figured, why not surprise you? Just wish I could have been here to see you win,” he added a bittersweet note in his voice.

“It’s okay, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” I reassured him, my eyes drifting from the depth of his gaze to the inviting curve of his lips, only to return to his eyes—intensely captivating.

Ugh, why did he have to look so kissable? Damn you, vodka!

A comfortable silence enveloped us, a fragile moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and electric tension.

Clearing his throat, Joe broke the stillness, “Come on, you look like you might pass out,” he teased gently, nodding toward my bedroom. It was true; the exhaustion was pulling at me, whispering sweet nothings of sleep. So, without resisting, I unwound myself from his embrace and began the trek to my room, Joe following closely behind.

I couldn’t tell if it was the lingering alcohol buzzing through my veins or the undeniable desires I felt, but the need to be close to him was intoxicating. In his arms, everything felt perfectly right.

Groaning as I woke up to the bright Atlanta sun shining in my eyes, I pulled the blanket over my head to block out some of the light. I really need to invest in blackout curtains.

Eventually, I decided it was time to get up and start my day.

But as I opened the door, I heard a noise coming from the living room. Is that the TV?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked into the living room.

“Morning, sweetheart,”

@enretrogue @hoodharlow

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow x reader #black oc #black!reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fan fic #Spotify

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flawssy-227 · 24 hours ago

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Fogwell’s pt.1 Matt murdock x f!reader

pairing: College!matt murdock x fem!reader

a/n: this is a repost from almost THREE years ago on my old blog! since the new daredevil is coming out soon... maybe I'll revisit my favorite hell's kitchen baby boy.

I will always do my best to leave the reader description as vague as possible (albeit female, but I am a woc, so will also always have woc in mind in my writing)

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: mention of beer, language

You remembered the first time you met him.

It was a Sunday at Fogwell’s, the gym was closed except for a private training session you had held earlier, some women from a hair salon in Hell’s Kitchen wanting to learn self defense.

You heard the little bell chime above the front door that signaled someone was coming in.

“We’re closed,” you called out without turning around. You were preoccupied with taking off your hand wraps as you heard him tentatively tap his way into the gym.

“Oh, sorry,” he started. “I was hoping I could speak with the owner.”

“You’re lookin’ at her,” you stated definitively. You took in his appearance, tall, somewhat built, a slight blush crossing his cheeks, and stubble you almost wanted to reach out and run your fingers across. He was cute you thought, as you tried searching his eyes before realizing they were pointed downward, a walking stick clutched tightly in his hands. “What can I help you with?”

“You don’t sound like the owner of a boxing gym in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen,” the man cocked his head to the side with a small smirk.

You scoffed a bit. “It’s my uncle’s gym, but he is on an extended vacation in Florida. Till he comes back, if he comes back, I’m the owner-operator,” you stated matter of factly. “You gonna question me or tell me what you want?” you said as you finished unwinding your hand wraps.

His small smirk extended into a full grin as he took a step closer to you and extended his hand for you to shake. “I’m Matt. I uh, I wanted to see if I could train here?”

You shook his hand, large and warm in yours. “Yeah, sure. We have open gym from 11-4, Monday through Saturday, kickboxing classes during the week at 5, boxing after that…” you trailed off. “What are you looking for?”

“Something more… private, actually.”

Now it was your turn to cock your head questioningly. As if he could feel it, he started speaking again.

“Even though I’m blind, I can feel people watching me. I know they’re wondering what someone like me is doing at a boxing gym, but I don’t need the judgement or little comments they make that they think I can’t hear. Plus my dad used to box here, way back in the day. I just want to be able to train in peace, privately. After hours?” he explained.

“After hours?”

“Just a couple of days a week. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.”

There was sincerity in his voice as you weighed your options. He seemed perfectly nice, innocent even. You usually stayed late in the gym most nights anyway, either looking over Fogwell’s books or training by yourself. Matt training after hours wouldn’t really impact you either way, plus, if you were being honest, you could use all the extra help financially.

“I’ll tell you what, you can stay today. I’ll be in the office, working on some things. Use the gym, do whatever you want, and I’ll make a decision after. Does that sound fair?”

Matt nodded his head, still clutching his walking stick. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“No worries, Matt.” You began walking your way back to your office before turning around again. “You’re a Murdock, right?”

Matt was in the middle of unzipping his jacket when he turned to look back at you quizzically.

“You said your dad trained here. It was Jack, right? Jack Murdock?”

He slowly nodded back at you.

You walked backward to your office, taking in the man in front of you. “Nice to meet you, Murdock.”

That was about 5 weeks ago, and Matt had been making regular appearances in your gym ever since. He would show up after hours a few times during the week and on weekends, sometimes giving you a call and begging, pleading you to come back and unlock the gym for him. You always would, knowing he would slip you a few extra dollars or bring you a 6-pack of beer to show his gratitude. You knew it wasn’t the only reason you would go out of your way to let Matt into Fogwell’s, but he didn’t have to know that.

You had a quickly developing crush on him. He was sweet, kind, and smart. Not hard to look at, either. He would flirt with you sometimes too, you were sure of it. Complimenting your perfume, praising your generosity. Sometimes you felt like he could read your mind, calling out your name or coming into the office every time you would daydream about him. You would always ask him to stay later when he brought you beer, too. Sometimes he would, and you two would spend an extra hour sitting around and talking about life. You really began to look forward to his calls, feeling a little lonely if you didn’t hear from him for a couple of days.

There were other reasons you wanted to see him, too. He would do things, when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Things that made you question how much his disability really affected him. So, when he gave you a call at 9 PM on a Saturday, begging, no, pleading you to open up the gym for him, you immediately said yes.

He was waiting for you at the front door, body perking up as he heard you approaching.

“You got here fast,” he said.

“Murdock, you know I live upstairs.”

“I know, I know. I’m just surprised you didn’t have plans. It is Saturday, after all.”

You scoffed as you held the door open for him. “Here to make me feel bad or to train?”

He laughed as he made himself comfortable in the gym. He took off his hoodie and you made a sharp inhale at his toned stomach. Was it just you, or was he getting ripped?

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked, walking toward the ring in the center of the gym.

“Sure,” he said, rolling his neck and shaking out his muscles.

“You ever think about getting in the ring?” You hopped up onto the platform and lowered the middle rope to climb in.

Matt looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “Can’t say that I have. Might not be easy for me to see who I’m fighting, on account of the no seeing thing.”

“Humor me,” you said, trying to take a slow deep breath as the shirtless man made his way toward you.

Matt walked to the ring, reaching his hand out to feel for the platform before climbing into it himself.

You slowly walked around the ring while Matt stayed close to the ropes, trying to decide the best way to approach your theory.

“I’ve been watching you these past few weeks,” you started, centering yourself directly across from him.

His eyebrows quirked up at your confession. “Oh?”

You nodded your head. “You’d probably be a tough opponent. Natural ability, a lot of fight in you.”

Matt’s smile grew bigger, his chest puffing out slightly at your compliment. He was clearly about to make some clever, flirty remark back at you, as he always did, but you took advantage of his distracted state and slid your keys out of your pocket, throwing them straight at his head.

You watched as his brows furrowed, only slightly, his head popping straight up. You don’t know it, but Matt feels the breeze shift in the gym when your arm quickly moves to throw the keys, he smells your deodorant, the fragrance being released because of the little bits of friction caused by your movement, and he tastes the metallic of the keys as they fly through the air.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You had a feeling, but you were still surprised to see Matt clutching your keys directly in front of his eyes. He looks at you, eyes pointed slightly downward, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, knowing you caught him.

“I fucking knew it!”

would you guys like more Matt? I have a very very old angsty wip that I'm tempted to finish if anybody is interested!

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil born again

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quibbs126 · 18 hours ago

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So after the last batch of Cyberverse sketches, I tried to do more here with Cyberverse Megatron specifically, since he kind of stuck himself in my brain, at least yesterday

Admittedly I wish I drew more, but by that last corner I just wasn’t sure what to draw. I actually did draw something, yet again trying to draw that one kissing meme thing with him and Optimus, but yet again it didn’t turn out right looking, so you don’t see it

But other than that, while I’m aware my drawings aren’t the best, I do think I’m at least getting the hang of drawing this version of Megatron. I’m aware his face is still off looking, but oh well

My only real thoughts for what to draw with him were “more of body”, “him thinking “oh no that’s hot” at something Optimus is doing”, “season 3 Megs” and “he drink coffee”. And also to attempt lineless

Note on that last thing, at least on the head, it’s not as difficult as I’d thought it’d be. I could probably do it, if I at least knew what I wanted to draw

I don’t really have much to say on the drawings themselves though? There isn’t much going on that I haven’t already said. All I can say is I tried to use screenshots for references more than usual, since I thought it’d help. I did stop at some point, but still

I don’t know how I feel about Cyberverse Megatron. I think he’s really only in my head because I was searching for Cyberverse megop fanfics after finishing the show

But also, he’s sort of your typical Megatron. An asshole, and usually the cause of alliances falling short and me saying “Megatron, you bitch”. Granted he’s not as evil as other Megatrons, at least most of the time, considering he was willing to destroy the AllSpark that one time, but it’s probably also because the Autobots and Decepticons have to team up so often in Seasons 2 and 3

But then there’s Season 3b Megatron, in which he has some adventure across the multiverse and comes back to help his universe, armed with his own Matrix and actually willing to save the day and have peace with Optimus and end the war, even if the planet is split in two. And at least in his initial appearance, he seems like he’s actually become at least a slightly better person

Like on one hand, I like this idea of him becoming better on his own time, and also we can just accept that maybe he’s become actually better since we don’t know what he was up to to cause this. But in the other, I really would have liked to see what he was up to. I guess they didn’t have enough time to show us

But yeah in 3b, he’s still an ass but he isn’t causing too much trouble, and is instead preparing for a worse threat to come, and then dies not as a villain, though he got taken out too quick to be called a hero in this scenario. Kind of disappointed he didn’t really get to do anything when the other Megatron showed up, would have been nice to see

But also I’m told that’s actually what kills him? He actually dies? I guess it is a more powerful version of him, but considering the other things other Megatrons have survived, and also we never really saw him die in the episode itself, considering he made noises of pain after being attacked and we just didn’t see him again after Bee took his Matrix, it feels kind of weak to me

I don’t know, his concepts in 3b are interesting to me

Also random side note, while I wasn’t expecting it, I appreciate his fusion cannon and mace having red lights instead of purple. I’m used to the purple but the red is consistent with the rest of his colors

Also there’s the subject of Cyberverse megop. It doesn’t have TFA’s issue of being strangers, in fact they seem to have known each other for a very long time and there’s no Elita or anything in this universe to be another past option for Optimus. And Megatron does do some bad things in this series, some worse than others, but also it seems like the characters of this show aren’t the most serious about this war, at least not like they are in Prime or something. Apparently every few millennia or so Optimus and Megatron try to have peace talks and negotiate, only for it to inevitably fall apart and things to start up again, and everyone’s just used to this

I think I can ship it, they have divorced energy and both sides are just used to it, including each other. They are in essence, the core values of typical megop I think, except they were actually on decent terms by the end of things, when Megatron dies. Sad that, why’d he have to die? At least make it heroic or something so he can go out with a bang

Yeah I don’t know, thought I should sprinkle in some thoughts on this version of Megatron while I’m here. I don’t have much honestly other than I think he’s fine and neat, and so is this version of the ship

I think I’m done now

#I’m realizing I kept forgetting his fusion cannon #this always happens when I draw Megatron I swear #oh well #I guess Optimus up next? I don’t really know #I should probably draw them doing stuff as well #still need to work out what I want to draw characters doing though #transformers #transformers cyberverse #megatron #my art

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quartztwst · 2 days ago

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Your Local Flower Bullies

(No Yan Sim AU)

Their names (left to right): Anisette Selcouth, Daisy Marguerite, and Rosa Russelliana!!

They don’t rule the school since the student council does but they do have power and they abuse it constantly. They come from rich families and their families constantly support the school which makes Headmaster/Principal Crowley SUUUPPERRR happy to allow their kids to attend the school.

They are also Quartz’ past friends. They hold grudges against her.

Anisette Selcouth

Anisette loves to put on a show where people believe she's this elegant and kind woman. She loves the praise and compliments so she shows off a lot and puts others down. Sometimes she'll even manipulate things into making herself look good. The student council and staff might believe she's a well composed and mature student but she's absolutely ruthless and terrible to certain classmates.

She only picks on the weak and lonely because she knows people won't believe them.

"Ah? Quartz? That dumb girl? Hah! I can't believe I used to be friends with her. If you want more information on her, then you have the wrong person. I barely knew her myself."

Anisette and Quartz were friends since middle school until Quartz left the friend group at the start of highschool. Anisette was clearly angry about this since she felt like Quartz was her closest friend.. yet... she didn't know her at all.

During their friendship, Anisette vented a lot to Quartz about her family. She never felt so vulnerable with a person before and really appreciated Quartz's comfort and support.. But Quartz would never share any personal information to her in return which annoyed her. She wanted Quartz to feel comfortable with her too. (Ok this sounds so gay but stay with me now)

Quartz was always there for her yet she left so easily. Did their friendship mean nothing? Was picking on other students too much? What did she do wrong?

Or is it that boy Azul?

Daisy Marguerite

Daisy is a bright but sneaky girl. She really loves to spread gossip and rumors. She's actually the one making up every single rumor. Not a lot of people suspect her because of her "sweet" attitude.

Although she has a friend group, she actually feels really lonely and talks to flowers like they're her friends. She realizes after Quartz leaving, they all were starting to drift away and pay attention to other things. She only makes up rumors and gossip so she could be together with Anisette and Rosa.

She feels really useless to everyone and so the only place she would feel useful in is with her flowers. They won't leave her because they need her right?

"Quartz? Oh, her!.. That lonely girl that likes Azul? I find her kinda weird hehe.. Hey! I heard that she's actually a mean person! She used to beat other students up during middle school. Like I might be a little mean... but Quartz is WAYY worse! Hehe!"

She hates Quartz and resents her. She didn't have to leave the friend group and ruin everything. She messed up the closeness and warmth they had. Why couldn't she just stay?

Daisy finds Quartz idiotic and selfish because now she's alone again. No one wants to hang out with her. They're all busy. They're all gonna realize how much of a bad person she was and make fun of her. She hates being a butt of a joke. She doesn't want that again now that no one will care.

Rosa Russelliana

Rosa is slowly becoming a reformed bully. In the past, she used to hang with Anisette and Daisy and just mess with other students. She thought it was fun at first but she slowly realized how wrong it was. She was also a slacker in her past school days. Her grades and attendance were LOW low.

Because of her horrible reputation and rumors of her beating up other kids, everyone was intimidated by her and her strength. She gave up on joining a club and stays by Anisette and Daisy, accepting her role as some mean girl. Most of the time, she's alone and doing her own thing though.

"Quartz? Oh, yeah. I remember her.. I was friends with her once. I always thought her attitude was kinda fake y'know. Maybe she was faking it for us? So she wouldn't get bullied.."

Rosa doesn't know the reason why Quartz left. She doesn't even know if she even attends the school anymore because she doesn't see her. But Rosa accepts it because she understands that the environment they created was horribly toxic.

#no yandere sim au #twst ocs #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc

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skyfallscotland · 2 days ago

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Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? 🖤

#onyx storm spoilers

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uceyliyahh · 2 days ago

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SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3176

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld

13.

OMNISCIENT Tonight marked the highly anticipated Saturday Night's Main Event, where Yasmine faced off against Liv in a fierce battle for the women's world championship. With determination in her heart, Yasmine fought not just for the title, but to reclaim what she truly deserved.

While she was in the catering area, picking up some food to fuel her before the main event of the night, her relationship with Jey had been blossoming over the past few weeks. They had been enjoying dates together, and he had been thoughtful, surprising her with her favorite flowers. He made her feel cherished, reminiscent of the affection they shared when they were just friends with benefits.

As she picked up her plate of food, she made her way to the table, settling in to enjoy her meal while scrolling through her phone. In the midst of her casual browsing, she noticed a story from Carmelo, where he expressed his thoughts on how he deserves to be treated by the right person.

As she enjoyed her meal, a light chuckle escaped her lips; it was hard to fathom how this man could claim he had done no harm. Just then, Yasmine felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of Bianca standing right behind her.

"Hey, girlfriend! I missed you so much," Bianca said as she and Yasmine hugged each other.

"Hey, B," Yasmine replied while scrolling through her social media.

Bianca shot her a knowing glance, fully aware that she was eager to hear the latest about her relationship with Jey. After all, she hadn't provided any updates on what had been unfolding between them lately.

Yasmine smiled brightly before she spoke, "Jey and I are doing well, B. He's really showing me that he's changed from how he used to be," she shared.

"I'm glad he's getting his shit together, otherwise I would've KOD his ass no bullshit,"

Yasmine laughed at the remark just as a bouquet of roses was headed her way. The sound of Bianca squealing in excitement prompted her to respond with a playful gesture.

She peered into the bouquet of roses and discovered a card from Jey, whose handwriting was impressively elegant.

"I cannot wait to see you with the title in your hand mama that means me and you both are champions together, kick some ass out there I'll be watching,"

Love, Joshua.

A smile crept across her face as she inhaled the fragrance of the red roses, listening to Bianca's teasing voice, "So, he loves you, huh?" Yasmine simply nodded in response.

"Yeah, he sure do honey,"

"Is your gear finished I wanted to see it that's why I was coming over here for honestly," She said.

"Yeah, it should be Ms. Kim sent me a text not to long ago so let's go check,"

Bianca and her tossed their plates into the trash before making their way to Ms. Kim's to check out Yasmine's gear for the evening. She felt a wave of nerves wash over her about the match, as it had been quite some time since she last stepped into the ring.

She hoped fervently that she wouldn't make any mistakes while facing her in the ring, as they approached Ms. Kim, who had just finished putting on her ring attire.

"I was just texting you Miss Thang, but how do you like it?" Ms. Kim said as she showed her, her ring attire.

Everyone inhaled sharply at the sight; it suited her flawlessly. The black and silver design sparkled brilliantly, resembling a diamond. Yasmine could hardly believe what she was seeing.

(Yasmine's ring attire)

She embraced Ms. Kim warmly, expressing her gratitude for transforming the outfit into something truly beautiful just in time for her match this evening.

"Of course, dear, you know I am here for you Hon," She said.

They couldn't stop admiring her ring outfit, saying, "Girl, you're about to shine tonight in this! Jey wouldn't even know how to handle it."

"Whatever he'll be alright girl,"

Yasmine shot a playful jab at Bianca's shoulder, her cheeks warming as she heard her sister-in-law's laughter. "You might think that now, but trust me, he'll have you sore and limping for days!"

✧˚° Upon catching a glimpse of her ring attire for the evening, she felt her phone vibrate. As she retrieved it from her pocket, she noticed a message from Jey waiting for her.

IMESSAGE💬 Joshua🤍: wya mama? Yasmine🩵: I was with Ms Kim checking out my ring attire I think you'll like it Joshua🤍: oh yeah? Yasmine🩵: mhm, but why did you wanna know where I was? Joshua🤍: bc, I miss you Yasmine Yasmine🩵: I miss you too Joshua🤍: you like the flowers I sent you? Yasmine🩵: yes they are beautiful boo 🥰 Joshua🤍: I'm glad you like em so how are feeling about your match tonight? Yasmine🩵: I feel nervous asf if I'm being honest with you Joshua🤍: baby, you'll be great out there Yasmine🩵: this is why I love you so much you always encouraging me Joshua🤍: that's what I'm here for mama, but I gotta go I have a interview with Jackie-O Yasmine🩵: tell her I said heyy Joshua🤍: lol aight then baby

Yasmine also had an interview today with Cathy regarding her upcoming match against Liv Morgan, aiming to reclaim what is rightfully hers.

While making her way to Cathy, she noticed Carmelo engaged in a conversation with Paul. Initially, she dismissed it, but her attention was captured when she heard her name being called—Carmelo was summoning her.

With a heavy sigh and an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she shifted her focus to Melo.

"What do you want Melo? You ain't supposed to be speaking to me or be near me you're breaking the order," Yasmine said.

"I don't give a damn about that restraining order against me Minks I wanna know the status of you and Jey's relationship," He said as Yasmine scoffed at him why does he care who she is with now?

"Why does it matter to you? Wait why the fuck are we having this conversation in the first place I got things to do so you can go ahead and drown in your sorrows Melo,". Before she could walk away he pulled her by the hair gripping onto it tightly around his hand.

Yasmine struggled to fend him off, but his strength overpowered her. As the confrontation escalated, memories flooded her mind of their past encounters, including the moment he unintentionally struck her.

FLASHBACK "Yasmine! She's just a friend from work okay? We didn't do anything," Carmelo said as Yasmine shook her head not believing him.

"If she's just a friend at work then why did I see you hugging all up on her like you do with me Melo? Don't fucking lie in my fucking face," She remarked while folding her arms.

Carmelo felt a wave of frustration wash over him as he rubbed his temple, grappling with his feelings for Yasmine. The truth was, he had cheated on her with a coworker, and now he found it increasingly difficult to cope with Yasmine's constant self-doubt and negativity. He yearned for a partner who exuded confidence and positivity, rather than one who was perpetually down on herself.

Yasmine possessed a strong sense of confidence, yet she often found ways to undermine herself over various issues, a struggle that he couldn't fully relate to.

"Hello? Like answer my question Melo?"

"You what, I cannot stand you anymore Yasmine it's no wonder why I stepped out on the relationship because you aren't confident enough for me," He confessed as the whole room went silent for a moment.

Yasmine was overwhelmed with pain inside, struggling to find the right words. Yet, on the surface, she was consumed by a fierce urge to confront him, to unleash her anger for betraying her trust.

"You deadass right now?"

"Yeah, I am actually she's way better than you'll ever be Yasmine," she had enough of him putting her down she walked up towards him slapping him in his face which caused him to give her the same treatment.

Yasmine stumbled backward as he pushed her with force. When she instinctively touched her nose, she felt something warm trickling down, and to her dismay, her fingers were stained with blood.

"Shit! Yasmine I didn't mean to," Carmelo said as he tried to approach her but she backed away.

"Imma gonna go, and pack my bags..." That's all she could say before walking past him.

FLASHBACK OVER.

Jonathan rushed forward, shoving Carmelo aside as she remained frozen in disbelief, unable to process what was happening.

"Yo! The fuck is your issue?!" Jonathan shouted.

Jonathan rushed forward, shoving Carmelo aside as she remained frozen in disbelief, unable to process what was happening.

"My issue? Nigga my issue is that Jey doesn't deserve her! Hell he cheated on her with Liv!"

Jonathan sneered at his words, "You really believe you're the superior choice for her? After what you did to her, Melo?" That remark was what drew her gaze, as she watched Liv and Dom sharing a laugh at her expense..

She sensed that a mental breakdown was looming, yet she refused to let it overwhelm her. After all, she had invested in therapy for a reason, and she was determined to stay strong.

She listened as he and Melo exchanged words about Jey's actions towards her, all while Liv sat nearby, enjoying the spectacle.

"I don't wanna hear none of that shit Melo, my brother may did some stupid shit with that whore but he's different now," He said before pushing Melo.

"Don't fucking push me nigga,"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him as he stood tall hovering over Melo's figure, "or what? The fuck you gonna do about it?" Yasmine approached Jonathan, who was watching her with worry etched on his face. "Jon, we should leave. He's not worth our time," she urged, and he nodded in agreement, leaving Carmelo in a state of shock.

Liv had a point to make. "Honestly, Carmelo is spot on. Jey deserves better than someone who's constantly down. It's no surprise that both men strayed from you," she remarked. Yasmine maintained her composure, offering Liv a subtle smile before walking away with Jonathan.

As she and Jon strolled toward Jey's locker room, Jonathan suddenly paused her for a moment.

"Hey, hey! Yasmine wait...are you okay?" He asked.

"Jon, I'm feeling fine you know I just can't wait to beat liv Morgan's ass like I should've did couple months ago." Yasmine said with a smile on her face as they both entered Jey's locker room.

✧˚° YASMINE As I stood in Jey's locker room, gearing up for tonight's final match, excitement coursed through me. I could hardly contain my anticipation to show that arrogant contender just how mistaken she was about her superiority. Little did she know, Dom was playing her for a fool, sneaking around with Tiffany. Tonight, I was ready to set the record straight.

While I was preparing, I suddenly heard the door creak open behind me. Just then, I felt a warm embrace as someone wrapped their arms around me. When I turned to see who it was, I found Jey beaming at me with a smile.

"You ready for to go out there my future woman's world champion?" Jey asked as he placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

I giggled at him before speaking, " of course I am love I cannot wait to see the crowd cheer for me," I said while touching up my makeup before heading out.

"Yasmine to the gorilla, Yasmine to the gorilla,"

As I sensed it was time to go, I felt Jey's hands wrap around my waist, gripping my hips. In an instant, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, and we shared a passionate kiss that lingered for a moment.

This kiss felt unlike any we had shared before. As his hands gently gripped my waist, a thrill surged through me before we finally parted. Our eyes locked, and I couldn't help but smile at him as I made my way toward the door.

As I made my way toward the Gorilla, I overheard a heated argument between two individuals. Curiosity got the better of me, and when I leaned in to take a closer look, I realized it was Liv and Dom engaged in a fierce dispute just moments before our match.

"You were with that bitch Tiffany!"

"We were just talking! That's all God why do I have to go through this with you!"

"Because you're a cheater Dom! You were all over her is she better than me or something!"

As I stepped into the Gorilla, I focused on my own thoughts, trying to shake off the nerves that were bubbling inside me. It had been a few months since I last faced the crowd, and I couldn't help but wonder how they would respond to my return. Just then, I noticed a cameraman approaching, and as my music kicked in, the energy of the crowd surged, sending a wave of excitement through me.

I looked into the camera before mouthing "I'm backkkk babes," I walked outside the gorilla seeing the crowd cheering for me as I blew them kisses. They were chanting my name I knew that they would miss me.

"She's back! Yasmine is back in the flesh!"

"If I'm being honest Cole I did miss seeing her,"

"From Brooklyn, New York weighing at 150 pounds, YASMINEEEEE,"

I bounded playfully toward the ring, sending kisses to the crowd before gracefully climbing in. Perched on the ropes, I executed a flawless flip into a full split, rising effortlessly as I settled on the turnbuckle, eagerly anticipating Liv's entrance.

As her music echoed through the arena, I watched her make her way to the ring solo, a striking departure from the usual presence of Dom by her side. It was clear that they were facing some challenges. She paused at the ropes, holding the title tightly in her grasp, before stepping into the ring with determination.

While I initially felt inclined to sympathize with her, I couldn't bring myself to do so after everything she has put me through. In all honesty, this seems to be her just desserts.

The lights faded to a soft glow, centering on Samantha, the ring announcer, as the bell chimed.

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, for the women's world championship!!!"

"Introducing the challenger from Brooklyn, New York weighing in at 150 pounds Yasmineee!!!"

I sent kisses to everyone in the audience, proudly reminding them that I am a two-time women's world champion, all while noticing Liv's frustration.

It's not my responsibility that the crowd is more drawn to me than to her. Honestly, after Samantha introduced us, the referee raised the title high before signaling the start of the match.

After a fierce struggle filled with tension and determination, Liv attempted to take me down with her signature move, the Oblivion. However, her efforts fell short. In a surprising twist, I countered with a powerful spear that left the audience stunned.

"SPEAR SPEAR! Yasmine hit Liv Morgan with a Spear!"

"I wonder where did she learn that from,"

I climbed to the top of the turnbuckle, ready to execute my signature move, a crowd favorite. With precision and grace, I launched into a moonsault, landing squarely on her stomach. The impact elicited a pained groan from her, showcasing the power of my finisher.

I grabbed her leg up as the referee began counting so did the crowd.

1! 2! 3!

The bell rang, and the crowd erupted in cheers as I knelt in disbelief, unable to comprehend that I had actually defeated Liv Morgan. I had done it! Tears streamed down my face as the referee raised my arm in victory and handed me the championship title.

As I climbed onto the turnbuckle, raising the title high above my head, I caught sight of Jey and the others emerging from the gorilla position, making their way into the ring to join in the celebration of my hard-fought victory.

Jey lifted me onto his shoulders, and as I perched there, I could hear the crowd cheering, affirming that I had earned this moment after all the time spent waiting to confront that woman.

I locked eyes with Liv as she clutched her stomach, shooting me a fierce glare before turning to leave. It seems her tour has come to an end.

Following the celebration of my victory, I took a moment to capture a photo with Paul, who expressed how proud he was of my journey back to health and strength. His words truly warmed my heart. I noticed Jey standing nearby, patiently waiting for me, and I made my way over to him.

As I nestled my head against his chest, he wrapped his arms around me with a warm smile. When I finally pulled away, it was clear that we were both champions in that moment.

"You ready mama?" Jey asked as I nodded my head.

As we stepped out of the building and made our way to his car, he clasped his large hands around mine, creating a warm connection that felt reassuring, especially since I had left my own vehicle at home.

✧˚° We arrived at the hotel, and as Jey unlocked the door with the key card, a refreshing aroma filled the air. I inhaled deeply, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Eager to unwind, I began to remove my clothes, looking forward to a rejuvenating shower.

I could feel his gaze locked onto me as I undressed in front of him, but it didn't bother me; I was confident he wouldn't take any action. I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, patiently waiting for the water to warm up.

As I was immersed in my skincare routine, diligently removing every trace from my face, I leaned over to rinse it off. In that moment, I suddenly felt someone pressing against me.

I recognized him instantly as I felt his rigid form pressing against me. When I turned to confront him, his gaze was filled with desire.

"What? Boy?" I questioned him.

"Girl, don't play with me right now, you know better not to get naked in front of me,"

"Oh? What are you going to do about it Mr Fatu?" I was testing this man's patience at this point that's when I felt him grabbing by my throat pulling my face closer to his.

Jey pressed his lips against mine, igniting a passionate kiss that sent shivers down my spine. I could feel his other hand firmly grasping my backside, and in an instant, he lifted me by my thighs, carrying us both into the warm embrace of the shower.

The warmth of our lips was unbroken as I felt his tongue dancing within my mouth, holding me firmly against the chilly wall behind us.

"I love you so much mama," Jey said between the kiss.

"I love you too Joshua," I replied.

For the rest of the night we passionately made love to each other as the room was filled with nothing but ours moans and groans throughout the night.

Hell probably the whole entire hallway people could probably hear us being loud but we didn't care whatsoever.

Something Bout' Us.

A/n: BACK WITH A UPDATE! Mane work as been killing my ass bro I be coming home tired fr fr doing retail ain't for that weaaaak.

Bu I hope yall enjoyed this chapter lmk in the comments below.

Stay Ucey.

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