#Joey Pang | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsinthesky5 · 2 months ago

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trick or treat* || joe burrow x reader

description: he was always Mr. Anti Halloween, but for you? for you, he'd do anything. even if that meant overcoming his childhood hatred for the holiday :)

a/n: a little post halloween fic for you all! sorry this took me so long :) it wasn't planned at all so I hope it's good and not all over the place!!

thank you @joeyb1989 for some inspo ;)

warnings:, language, smut, fluff

word count: 11.7 k

tag list (comment to be added!): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeys-babe @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid

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"Baby, pleaseeeee," Joe whined as he hid his face in your neck, pulling the hood of his onesie even lower to hide his face simultaneously. "Please don't make me go out there," he murmured, his words soft and pleading while his warm breath caressed your skin.

"Joey, it's gonna be okay," you giggled, rubbing gentle circles along his back, your hand sinking into the soft, fluffy fabric of the blue stitch onesie he was sporting tonight.

He pouted, snaking his arms around your waist in a playful attempt to anchor himself, preventing you from dragging him out the door. “I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled into the soft fabric of your matching pink stitch onesie. “I really don’t wanna go, baby. I’ll do anything if you let us stay inside tonight. I’ll make you a three-course meal, give you a full body massage, paint your nails--anything you want. I’ll even let you be on top more ‘cause I know how much you love it. That all sounds nice, right? Right?”. His voice was a mix of begging and teasing, you couldn’t help but giggle at the lengths he was willing to go to avoid the Halloween festivities.

"Joey, I love you and appreciate your will to negotiate, but I’m not changing my mind,” you chuckled, swaying his body back and forth.

“B- But whyyy?” he mumbled against your neck, his incredibly delicate voice making you melt in his arms. Every word he whispered tugged at your heartstrings, and all you wanted was to go back to bed and snuggle his adorable self till he couldn't breathe. “Do you hate me or something?”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you dramatically gasped, stopping your soothing movements to add to the theatrical effect. "I'm app-", giggle, "appalled that you even considered such horrid thoughts," you said, trying to stifle your laughter and remain serious but failing miserably.

“...Am I accusing you or is it just the truth?” he moped, twisting his head in your neck so that he could look into your eyes with his wide baby blues.

A pang of guilt pulled at you for pushing him into it, but you knew without it, he'd never agree. “I love you, and that’s why I’m making us go trick-or-treating tonight. You deserve to experience Halloween the right way, and I’m gonna make it happen this year,”.

Tonight was your favorite night of the year and Joe’s least favorite night of the year, All Hallow’s Eve. To you, Halloween was a night filled with magic and mischief, a time to dive into the world of costumes, mysterious identities, and bags upon bags of candy. In years past, you'd normally find yourself getting absolutely trashed at some Halloweekend party with your friends, but in recent years you opted for more tamer celebrations. Part of the reason was that you didn't really enjoy getting blackout drunk anymore and left that behind in your college days, but another reason was because of your lovely boyfriend who preferred to spend every October 31st acting like it wasn't October 31st. To Joe, Halloween was a “stupid holiday”, an excuse for people to put on facades they’d never wear any other day. He didn’t see the point in what you were celebrating, and the whole thing seemed meaningless to him. That hurt your soul a little, knowing how much you loved Halloween and everything that came along with it. But when you found out the real reason behind his hesitation--the things he kept tucked away, the bits that made him see the holiday differently--your perspective shifted.

Even growing up, Joe wasn’t the biggest fan of the holiday. He loved the idea of dressing up in his little costumes, always excited to transform into a superhero or a silly cartoon character. But when it was time to step out onto the chilly, leaf-strewn streets, baby joey would hide. He couldn’t get himself to walk up to the door and mumble, “Trick or Treat”. He would hide, burying himself in his parents’ legs or peeking nervously from the porch to see if the bowl of candy was left out. The idea of knocking on doors and making small talk with strangers was all so overwhelming for him and that stuck with him a little even in adulthood. The spooky masks, the dark skies, and the anxiety of talking to strangers soured his feelings towards the holiday and Halloween quickly became something he’d rather skip. You understood that it wasn't just about the costumes and candy for him and that understanding made you want to help him create new, happier memories in place of the old.

But you really didn't have to push all that hard because every year, he still indulged in parts of the spooky holiday for you--at least the parts that he approved. Each year, he’d help you hang up the orange and purple lights, the flying witch decorations, and even the faux cobwebs across the shrubs outside. He’d grumble a little at the mess and the spooky faces staring back at him from the yard, but when he’d see the happiness in your eyes, every bit of effort felt worth it. Seeing you happy made Halloween just a little more bearable--and maybe, just maybe, even enjoyable.

You somehow made it more comforting for him, and even though he gave you the same speech every year about how pointless it all was, you’d eventually find him nose-deep in a bag of candy, a tell-tale smudge of chocolate on his lip betraying his facade.

Sometimes, he’d even cave and watch a Halloween movie with you, despite his irrational fear of anything remotely horror-related. But getting him there was never easy. He was, without a doubt, the most stubborn person you knew so it always took endless pleading, a little bribery, and maybe a few strategically placed kisses to get him to soften up. Soon after, he’d sink in next to you, arms crossed and pretending not to flinch at every jump scare. Or, he'd end up pulling the blanket high enough to cover his face if he wasn't already hiding it in the crook of your neck.

Flashback to a few weeks ago

“Babe, I’m not watching that,” he huffed, crossing his arms and clenching his jaw in opposition as you scrolled through the list of movies on the TV.

“Baby, Scream isn’t even scary! It’s just a slasher film,” you said while turning to look at him, your bottom lip stuck out as you tried to use your usual irresistible pout to convince him to watch your all-time favorite scary movie with you.

That pout did wonders for you when it came to Joe. It was your way of getting him to do all the things he'd normally resist--watching a scary movie, going out when he'd rather stay in, trying that new cafe you'd been raving about. Every time, he'd try to hold out, but one look at your face and his front would crumble. It would be replaced with a soft smile that he reserved just for you, just for his girl.

You watched as he sighed, his eyes flicking to your pout and back. His lips curled into a sweet smile and his eyes softened; he was getting lost in your charm and it was working.

Oh yes.

But the pout that usually always works in your favor, failed you this time and he quickly went back to his resolve without even flinching. “Put the pout away, babe. I’m not watching that,” he shook his head. “You look adorable, but it’s not going to work this time,” he added as his thumb traced slowly along your plump bottom lip. His hand lingered near your face and even in his most stubborn moments, he couldn't hide how much he adored you.

You blinked at him for a few silent moments before fully losing it, “But whyyyyy,” you whined, throwing your head back against the couch headrest, then shifting your head to look at him. “I promise it’s not scary! And I’m right here if you do get scared. You can squeeze my hand, bury your face in my neck, use me as a stress ball,”.

"Thanks, Y/N, but it’s still a hard no," he chuckled at your attempt to persuade him. "I refuse to watch people get gutted by some psycho in a ghost mask. The whole concept of the movie is just dumb, anyway. I mean, why not just move towns or states? Why not just buy a gun? Or wait, even better. Just don’t pick up the fucking phone and talk to a stranger,” he giggled as you glared at him.

He leaned in, deepening his voice, and asked, "What's your favorite scary movie?" in his best Ghostface voice. “Like, come on! Just hang up, block the number, call 911, and get the hell outta dodge,”

You shifted away from him, your jaw falling open, truly offended by his disregard for the masterpiece that the original Scream was. After seeing your demeanor, he only laughed harder. “Oh, stop. You know I’m right. It’s probably the same with every horror movie. They just love to make the main characters dumber than a rock and then make them act surprised that a psycho with a knife is knocking at their door,”.

“You know,” you interjected, giving him a playful side-eye. “You seem to know an awful lot about scary movie plots for a guy who refuses to watch a single one with his lovely girlfriend--the same girlfriend he adores, is utterly obsessed with, and would do annnnnnything to make happy,” you lean into the sarcasm, but laced it with enough sweetness to test his stubbornness, hoping it would make him cave. "You do like to make her happy, right? I bet that you watching Scream with her would make her soooo happy," you added, placing a hand on his thigh and giving him a gentle squeeze.

Joe smirked to himself before he leaned in, his lips grazing against the corner of your ear. “You gotta do better than that, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot and voice raspy. He was enjoying your attempt to sway him. The playful challenge in his eyes told you he wasn’t giving in that easily, but he loved every second of it.

"Oh, come ON," you thought to yourself, realizing this would be much harder than you thought.

"What if I make you Pumpkin Pie after?" you asked him while flashing him a bright smile. Pleading wasn't working, so it was time for you to call in the big guns: bribery. God bless your ability to pivot without breaking a sweat, you could practically already see his determination crumbling as a hint of temptation flickered in his eyes. You were close to winning him over.

Yes. YES.

Joe pursed his lips, pretending to be deeply thinking about your offer before he opened his mouth after his dramatic pause, "Mmmm, nope," he shook his head, trying to keep a straight face.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch headrest again, then dropping your head to his shoulder where he moved his hand to cradle your face. He dropped a quick kiss to your forehead, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he enjoyed every second of your struggle. "Damn, you suck at this," he teased, his voice full of affection.

"What if I bake it naked. Only in an apron?" you offered, glancing up at him and knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist such a tempting offer.

Whenever you stepped into that kitchen to bake him something, it was like a switch flipped inside Joe. He became impossibly handsy, his self-control being thrown out the window the second he saw you in that baby pink apron, hair tied in a messy bun, and arms coated in flour. What takes 2 hours to bake, takes 4 when he's in there with you. You get so distracted by his slow neck kisses, his hands sliding over the curves of your hips, and the alluring words he whispered in your ear. By the end, flour would be everywhere. On the counter, on your clothes, even in his hair. He was always so proud of the mess you'd both made, and you didn't mind it one bit.

So, being naked--basically bare--while making him his second favorite sweet treat? Well, that was basically an open invitation for Joe to indulge in his first favorite sweet treat. You.

He definitely wouldn't be able to resist this.

"It'll be just you and me," you mumble, leaning your head forward so that your lips are sliding across his tan neck, his hand moving to grip your thigh as he instinctively pulls you closer. "In that big kitchen," you say as you drop a wet kiss on his sweet spot. "Allll alone," another kiss to his skin, this time along his jawline. "For as long as you want...".

His eyes widened for a split second before he let out a low, conquered groan, trying to fight back a grin at the same time. "You...are impossible," he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled you in even closer, your legs now curled up in his lap and his hand rubbing your calf.

"And you are always DTF," you giggled, taking note of his handsy-ness already beginning hours in advance due to the mere mention of baking a pie for him with no clothes on.

"...Mmph, alright, you win," he sighed, giving in to your wishes at last. "But that pie better be worth it or else I'm taking all this Halloween shit down," he warned while motioning to the few decorations around the living room.

"If the pie isn't worth it, I'll be sure to make something else worth it," you winked, your implied suggestion causing his cheeks to turn pink as you reached for the remote and clicked on Scream.

End of Flashback

Over the years, you'd managed to get your boyfriend to warm up to Halloween bit by bit. He'd sit through a few "scary" movies and even helped you decorate the house despite his complaining and groaning. But there was still one Halloween tradition you hadn't been able to get him to embrace: trick-or-treating.

That part of Halloween still brought back his old discomfort. Every year you'd try to get him to hand out candy with you, but he always refused and said he had to watch game tape in his office. You'd ask if he wanted to walk around the neighborhood and watch the kids trick-or-treat, but instead, he'd suggest you two go out to eat. Then you'd get a little bold and ask him if he wanted to go trick-or-treating together, and Joe would look at you like you had three heads.

Nothing ever worked--not the pout, the pleading, the bribery, or even your sweetest kisses. Trick-or-treating was the one Halloween tradition Joe just couldn’t get behind, no matter how much you tried. But this year, you decided to approach it differently.

You didn’t ask him to go. You simply told him you were going trick-or-treating together and made it nearly impossible for him to refuse.

You’d spent weeks planning, finding the perfect couple’s costumes, and dropping hints about how fun it would be. Every time he tried to fight it, you’d meet his eyes with that knowing smile, as if you could already picture the two of you walking hand in hand down the leaf-strewn streets. You weren’t giving him a way out this time. And deep down, a part of him knew he was going to give in--not because you’d worn him down, but because he loved seeing you happy.

Flashback to two nights ago

"Okay. I have three costume options," you smiled, holding up three shopping bags in front of him. Joe sat on the edge of the bed, looking a little frazzled, his expression already showing his hesitation.

"Wait...three?" he asked, eyeing the bags like they were bombs that were seconds away from exploding

"Mhm!" you grinned, pulling the bags closer. "You're going to pick the perfect couple's costume, I just know it,".

"Me? I told you, Y/N. I'm not going," he shook his head. "We do this dance every year and I don't know why you keep trying,".

Your shoulders dropped a little at his usual negative mindset towards Halloween, and you softened as you met his eyes again, "I keep trying because..." you hesitated, giving him a warm smile, "I want to make you have happy memories about this holiday, Joey,".

He blinked, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. Normally you'd be playful and silly when you talked about this, but this time you weren't and that set off the alarm in Joe's head.

“I want you to experience it the way you were meant to as a kid,” you continued, dropping the bags and walking over to sit beside him. “I want you to have the same silly experiences I did, so that one day,” you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently, “We can let our kids experience it the way we did. You deserve to feel the excitement of getting dressed up, the thrill you get once you count up the amount of candy you get at the end of the night, and the warm feeling the day after when you get to stuff your face with candy for breakfast. I know Halloween wasn’t your favorite back then, but I’m here now. We can make it ours. We can make better memories,".

"I know it's silly, I mean it is just a holiday. But I want you to experience it all, you know? And it'll be fun because I'm doing it with you," you added, your voice laced with sincerity.

Joe looked down at your hands, your words sinking in, and when he looked up, there was a warmth in his eye that hadn't been there before. Halloween might not have been his favorite holiday. But for you? He'd make it one he loved. He saw how much it meant to you, and he noticed how over the years you'd been changing his experiences with the holiday step by step despite his stubbornness. You never gave up on him, and that's why he loved you. That's why he was willing to do whatever it took to make you smile.

With a small grin, he eventually sighed, “Alright. Show me those costumes,”.

Your face lit up instantly, "Really?" you gasped, gripping his bicep in response.

"Don't make me change my mind," he said after dropping his head, although he couldn't help a smile from appearing on his face at the sound of your newfound excitement.

"I love you, Joseph Lee Burrow," you grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his soft cheek before jumping off the bed and grabbing the bags.

"I love you too, Y/N Y/LN," he chuckled.

He did, he really really loved you. He was willing to do anything to make you happy, to make his girl, his lady, happy. And who knows, maybe you were right? Maybe he would have a happy memory of Halloween after doing this with you tonight.

You picked up the first bag, quickly taking out the first set of matching costumes. "Okay, okay, hear me out--matching blue and pink stitch onesies. They're comfy and simple, and I think you'll look very adorable walking around in this,".

Joe raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. "Comfy, huh? That's a plus, for sure".

You grinned, pulling out the next costume. "Option Two, Joker and Harley Quinn,".

"Oh?" he said, his tone laced with surprise as he saw your Harley Quinn costume or the lack thereof. "I don't know how I feel about you walking around in those shorts, babe,".

"I knew you were going to say that," you sighed. "But I still bought it anyway because you'd look so sexy with this Joker outfit and makeup on,".

Joe felt a blush creeping up on his face as he chuckled, "We can do that...but only for our eyes only. Your birthdays coming up, right? Consider me dressing up as The Joker one of your gifts," he winked.

"Noted," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as heat pooled in your stomach at his innuendo. You then pulled out the final option, trying to calm yourself as you showed him. "Last one, which is a classic. Pirates!" you grinned.

Joe looked carefully for a moment, peeking at each costume before finally meeting your gaze. It didn't take long for him to decide which one he liked best, “You know,” he said, a grin breaking through, “I think I’m gonna go with the stitch onesie,".

You raised an eyebrow in surprise at how fast he picked a costume, especially because he picked the one you didn't think he would pick. “Really? Why’s that?”

“Because,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “It’s super comfy, and you know how much I love aliens. Plus,” he added, leaning in closer, “It’ll be easy to take off of you later when we get into bed,”

Your cheeks flushed at the playful implication, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, stitch it is! But you have to promise we’ll take cute photos," you said, you were really just happy that he agreed to go and pick a costume without getting into a pillow fight with you.

“Deal,” Joe said, reaching out and gripping your waist firmly, pulling you close, and planting a quick kiss on your belly before resting his cheek against it while you raked your fingers through his soft hair. Halloween might not have been his favorite holiday, but with you by his side, he was ready to make it a night to remember--one cozy moment at a time.

"I love you," he mumbled against you before pressing another kiss to your belly.

"I love you too, my anti-halloween cuddle baby," you giggled, pressing a kiss to his hair.

End of flashback

You thought you had gotten him to fully embrace tonight, especially since he willingly put on his blue stitch onesie, but with the way he was clinging to you right now...he was definitely still struggling to let himself open up to it.

"What if they start laughing at me? I'm Joe Burrow, 27-year-old QB of the Cincinnati Bengals. I shouldn't be out trick-or-treating," he whined, hiding his face in your neck again.

"They won't laugh, Joey," you softly laughed.

"How do you know?".

"Because. You're Joe Burrow, 27-year-old QB of the Cincinnati Bengals," you grinned, gently shuffling both of you over to the foyer table where your candy bags were placed. "Man, you're big," you mumbled, slightly struggling to move because you had your 215-pound teddy bear attached to you.

He chuckled lightly, his breath warm against your skin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked big boys,”.

"I do. Only you though. The rest are scaryyyy," you smiled, finally reaching the table.

"And I'm not?" he questioned, his voice laced with playfulness and flirtatious energy.

"Nope," you said while grabbing the bags. "You're my big, gigantic, muscular, adorable cuddle baby whom I never want to let go of" you softened.

"Hm, I think I prefer that over a scary football player," he chuckled.

Joe lost that tough, hard-headed QB persona when it was just the two of you. He was a total softie with you, revealing a side that few got to see. He would lean in closer during the quiet moments, dropping his guard as he shared little secrets and dreams with you, his deep voice softening to a whisper just for you. It was in these moments that you could see the real Joe. A man who cherished the little things, from the warmth of your hands to the laughter you shared over inside jokes. Each cuddle, each tender kiss that lingered a second longer, each time he pulled you into his tight embrace, he was just Joey. The boy who adored you more than life itself. Under the star athlete was someone who thrived on love, warmth, and connection.

"Good," you giggled, "Because me too. Anyway, it's just our neighborhood. Everyone knows we live here so I'm sure you'll just get a few 'hey joe!' screams and an occasional request for a photo,".

Joe lifted his head out of your neck, still looking a bit unsure for a few moments which prompted you to speak up. "I promise it'll be fun, Joey. I'm right there with you," you smiled, your hand sliding up and down the sides of his torso and your nails lightly scratching him through the fabric of his onesie. "Do it for me? Please?".

You saw a little shift in his baby blue eyes, relaxation and love flooded them. "Anything for her," he told himself. "Come on, Joe. Grow up,".

He took another deep breath before speaking up, "...Okay, but if someone asks me to do the Heisman pose in a Stitch onesie, I’m not doing it,".

You broke out in a fit of laughter at the mental image of him doing so and dropped your head onto his chest as your body shook from emotion. "D- Deal," you laughed, your heart swelling at how willing he was to step out of his comfort zone for you.

You felt him press a warm kiss to your forehead, his hand then moving to cup the nape of your neck and angle your face up. He leaned down, gently pressing his lips against yours, the feeling of your lips connecting sending shivers down your spine.

His hands slid down to your waist, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles as he pulled you closer. His cold nose brushed against yours as he met your lips in a deep, sluggish, sloppy kiss. Each gentle nip and pull sent warmth throughout your body, and his soft rhythm made you melt into him. Just as you began to lose yourself in the kiss, he pulled back slightly, "Alright, let's do this," he said against your lips. "But you better keep me entertained, or I'm pulling the 'famous quarterback' card,".

"Interesting words coming from the same guy who hates unnecessary attention," you said while raising an eyebrow, stepping back from Joe's embrace to straighten out your outfit.

"Hey, it's my get-out-of-jail-free card," he retorted. "If they start laughing or I get bored, I'll remind everyone that I'm a professional athlete. That'll get them to one, stop laughing because I'll say 'excuse me, ma'am, but do you really want to laugh at Joe Burrow, the Cincinnati Bengals' golden boy?' and two, entertain my football star side for a few short seconds before I get irritated by the camera flashes," he said while striking a mock pose, puffing out his chest and flexing his arms dramatically.

"Ohhh yeah," you giggled, "Because nothing screams 'intimidating' like a guy in a stitch onesie flexing his muscles,".

“Exactly, babe,” he replied, laughing along with you. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a picture with the cuddly, buff quarterback? Just look at me, who could say no?” He glanced down at his plush costume, pretending to look serious.

"Careful, Joey B. You might even start a trend," you said while raising your hands. "The soft, cuddly, buff quarterback. It could be your new brand,".

"I can get behind that," he cutely nodded. "Maybe I'll wear this at the press conference next week," he chucked, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you both to the front door.

"Ohhh, I would love to see the reactions from the guys and the media if you pulled up like this," you smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"I would never hear the end of it. The guys still give me shit for the hickey I walked in with the day after my birthday last year," he sighed.

"I'm still not sorry for that," you shrugged. "Gotta let everyone know that you're mine," you nodded as he opened the front door for you.

"No need to be sorry, babe. You made your mark on me, a golden tattoo. I can't hate on that," he smiled, helping you onto the front step while he followed and closed the door behind him.

A smirk rose on your face, "Good. Because if you do good tonight, maybe you'll get a few more golden tattoos," you quickly mumbled, hopping down the steps of your house.

"Wait, what?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows at what he thinks he heard you say.

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of maroon before you glanced back at him, "Ohhh, nothing," you smiled. "C'mon," you motioned for him to follow, "We have doors to knock on,".

-- -- --

"Okay, Joey. First house," you smiled, placing your hand around his bicep and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You both were standing at the doorstep of a house that was a few streets down from yours, the decorations in the front yard caught your eye and you just knew this was the first place to start. There was an elaborate setup of skeletons cobwebs, and glowing pumpkins that lit up the yard with a spooky charm.

Joe's eyes darted from the decorations to the door, and you could feel the tension in his muscles under your hand. "Had to pick the spookiest house first, didn't you?" he murmured, glancing down at you with a hint of hesitation.

"You got this, babe," you nudged playfully, leaning over to kiss his cheek as you doubled down on your confidence in him.

He took a deep breath, straightening his posture as his brows furrowed in determination. "Okay, here goes," he breathed out, lifting his hand, pausing for a second as he shot you one last look--almost making sure you were still with him--before he finally pressed the doorbell. There was nothing to be scared or shy of. You were right there with him, he had no reason to hide behind someone because he had his safety blanket right next to him. His sweetheart, his lovely girlfriend, his Y/N.

A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman, her face lighting up as her eyes fell on you both. But when her eyes landed on Joe, standing there in a stitch onesie, she let out a surprised laugh.

He nervously cleared his throat before saying, "Trick or treat!" his voice was steady but laced with a bit of shyness that only you could catch.

"Oh, my goodness!" she bounced with excitement. "I never thought I'd see the day! Joe Burrow? Trick or Treating on my porch! And in such an adorable costume?" she cooed.

You couldn’t help the proud grin that spread across your face as you squeezed his arm again, leaning in to whisper, "See? You’re already a hit,".

"She's not wrong! This costume is perfect for you," the lady nodded. "You two look so adorable!".

Joe laughed, scratching the back of his neck, "Yeah, well...I have my Halloween coach to thank for that," he said, nodding at you with an appreciative smile.

"You give me too much credit," you giggled. "Not everyone can pull off a stitch onesie at 27 years old,".

He looked down at you again, his lips curved into a soft smile. But then he noticed your gaze shift down to his bag, which was still closed tight in his hand. You gave him a playful look, raising an eyebrow as if you were saying, "C'mon, Joey. Open it up,".

He realized what you meant with your stare, "Oh," he mumbled, quickly tugging the bag open and holding it out just like a kid who finally got the Halloween memo.

He watched as the woman dug her hand deep into the bowl of candy and placed a generous handful inside his spooky, SpongeBob-themed candy bag. Joe looked down at it with a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face, clearly not used to this happening to him. You couldn't help but melt at how surreal it must have felt for him--27-year-old Joe Burrow, the star QB, standing on a stranger's doorstep with a trick-or-treat bag in hand, experiencing the magic of Halloween the right way for the first time.

"Happy Halloween!" she chirped, giving him a little wink before turning to you and adding, "And you two make the cutest couple! Who Dey!".

Joe's ears turned a light shade of pink as he mumbled a polite, "Thank You,", trying to hide his emotions as best he could. That wasn't as bad as he thought it was, that was actually...fun? There were no awkward words exchanged between him and the stranger, no intimidating vibes, just sweet candy and even sweeter words.

And he had gotten a huge, seemingly above-normal fistful of candy too? Talk about Quarterback perks...

"What is this?" he thought, confused by what just happened as his hand instinctively gripped yours while you waved goodbye and walked away from the house.

You couldn't help your smile from growing wider when you both were back on the sidewalk. "He did it. He really did it," you thought to yourself, your heart swelling in return. "He did it for me,".

You stopped him in his tracks and turned to face him. "What's wrong?" he asked, confused at why you suddenly stopped him and at your wide-eyed look.

A squeal left your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and jumped into him. "You did ittttt!" you cheered, pressing about a dozen kisses to his soft, rosy cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Joe!".

Joe's face softened, a smile creeping up as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. "You're really that proud of me?" he asked, amused and bashful.

"Are you joking?" you beamed, pulling back just enough to look at him through both your stitch hoods. "You faced your Halloween fears for me. That's huge, Joe,".

"Yeah...I guess I did," he tilted his head and replied, sounding a little surprised himself.

"Ahhhh," you squealed again as you went back into the bear hug you were giving him. "This is so exciting for me, you have no clue,".

He laughed, "Oh, I think I have some idea. You've been on me for doing this for yeaaars. I'm glad you never gave up, though,".

"I'll never give up when it comes to you," you smiled before leaning up and capturing his lips in a warm kiss. "Ooo," you said as you quickly pulled away, "What candy did you get?" you asked as you felt the presence of his candy bag below you

Joe chuckled softly, still relishing in the warmth of your quick kiss. “Let’s see,” he said, searching through his candy bag with exaggerated seriousness as if it were a treasure chest. “Looks like I’ve got some Snickers, a few Reese’s, and--,” he paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a tiny packet, “Starburst!”.

Joe and his Starbursts. An inseparable duo.

"Ohh, here we go," you laughed, watching as he dropped his bag on the ground and quickly started ripping open the packet to see what flavors he got.

A gasp left his lips, "Orange! Y/N, I got double orange!" he smiled, his voice so light and playful because he had just got his favorite flavor. He was legit a kid right now in every way possible, from the costume to the smile, and to the air around him.

"Joe, it's just orange," you teased, smiling wide as you enjoyed this playful side to him.

He shot you a glare, "Just orange? This is the best damn flavor," he said, tossing a piece into his mouth with a proud grin. "I know you love pink, but that is not orange. You're missing out," he said while pointing at you as if he was giving you a lecture.

"Maybe we can do a flavor swap later?" you winked, your suggestive comment earning a grin from him.

"Deal," he chuckled as he picked up his bag again to see what else he got.

You watched as he searched through the candies, an adorable grin on his face, crinkles around his eyes, and a shimmer in his baby blues. Joe was so happy, so smiley, and this was just the first house out of many. You could only imagine how he would be by the end of the night. "Let's keep going," he smiled, a feeling of excitement starting to bubble underneath his skin.

You let him lead you, warmth filling your chest as he glanced back at you, his excitement spreading through his fingertips and straight into your body. Joe’s hand squeezed yours, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how he practically skipped down the sidewalk. His usual calm, collected self had completely melted away, replaced by a boyish joy that made your heart swell.

When you reached the next house, he gave you a playful look. "Alright, what do you think this one’s giving out? Full-size? Think we’ll get lucky?".

You shrugged, playing along, “Only one way to find out. Go on, brave QB. Knock and conquer,".

"You don't want to come up with me?" he asked with a playful pout.

You smiled, "You're a big boy, QB1. You've got this".

"Alright, alright. But if I get nervous, you'll be my backup, right?" he asked, glancing back at the house. He wasn't having a hard time talking to strangers this time around, which was different than when he was a kid. Normally, he wouldn't be able to put his finger on what made him break a childhood habit, but this time it was easy for him to know because of the feeling he had in his heart.

It was because of you.

Being with you calmed Joe in a way that nothing else could. Your calm presence was like the first, refreshing sip of ice water after a brutal run on a hot day. As you stood by his side tonight, he felt your cool confidence seep into him, melting away any of his nerves.

With you there, he found himself speaking more easily, making small talk without hesitation, and even standing on doorsteps without any fear. You had a remarkable effect on Joe, and he knew damn well without you, he wouldn't be able to do a lot of things, including this.

"Forever and Always," you promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

He straightened up, took a breath, and headed up the path on his own, a new confidence in his stride. Watching him, you couldn’t help but smile. He was loosening up, bit by bit, and you felt a thrill at the thought that he might actually be enjoying himself.

Joe knocked on the door, a bit of uncertainty clear via his body language. But when the door opened, he gave a smile so genuine that even the older couple answering couldn’t help but smile back, dropping another handful of treats into his bag as they made small talk with him.

You quickly pulled out your phone to record the sweet moment, wanting to capture Joe looking absolutely adorable and actively enjoying himself on Halloween in case someone doubted you when you told them. You had gotten him to soften up, and that was making this the best Halloween ever. You wanted to capture the memory and keep it forever.

As he headed down the steps, he looked at you with a glowing face. “You know what? I kinda get why you love this now. It’s just...fun,”.

You let out a dramatic gasp as he inched towards you, "Joe Burrow? Saying Halloween is fun? Oh my god? Have the aliens finally made landfall on Earth?".

"Very funny, Y/N," he playfully rolled his eyes.

"What'd you score this time?" you said while looping your arm with his.

"Full-sized, baby," he said in mock triumph. "Snickers, a big bag of Sour-Patch, and even another Starburst packet,". The glimmer in his eyes was undeniable, he was genuinely enjoying himself and the smile on his face was only growing wider. There were no complaints from him, no signs of anxiety, just pure enjoyment. "They even said I looked cute in this and said I've been playing like the MVP recently," he blushed.

"Aw, that's sweet," you replied, squeezing his hand as you continued walking down the street, seeing all the little kids in their adorable costumes wandering the roads. You even think you saw a kid dressed up as Joe, football jersey and all.

He let go of your hand so that he could put his arm around your waist, "They even said something about you," he winked.

"Oh? What'd they say?" you asked, snaking your arm around his waist.

"That I struck gold with youuuu," he teased, bumping his head with yours. "They go to a bunch of games and have seats by our sidelines and see you and me before every game doing our little handshake and watching you give me that pre-game pep talk. They said that the way I look at you, and only you, during that time is only something that comes around every few lifetimes,".

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Wait, seriously? People notice that?".

They weren't wrong there, though. The way Joe looked at you during his sideline time was something that was so special, so rare. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders at that time, but all that vanished once his eyes locked in on yours. You were his comfort, his calm within the storm. Whether that's on the field, or even right now as you two were partaking in Halloween festivities that he was normally against. You made it all better with your smile, with your reassuring words, with your gentle touch. He adored you.

Joe chuckled, nodding, "Yeah, apparently it's their favorite part of the game. They said, 'Man, if that's not love, I don't know what is',". He pulled you a little closer, "Guess I struck gold,".

Your heart exploded as you nestled closer to him, "Well, they're not wrong," you mumbled. "But, I think I'm the lucky one because I get to watch you light up the field like you do,".

Joe leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your head, his voice warm as he murmured, “Guess we're both pretty lucky. But I'm definitely the luckier one because I have the most dedicated, relentless--in the best way--adorable, thoughtful, beautiful, and insanely hot woman by my side,".

His words were tender, each one a gentle caress that wrapped around your heart. They held a deep meaning that made you feel adored in a way only he could make you feel. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with love, a smile tugging at your lips. "You know, you make it really hard not to fall for you all over again," you whispered, your voice catching as you reached up to trace your fingers along his jawline.

"Baby, I fall for you all over again every single morning I wake up to your beautiful face," he said, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "And I love you a million times more. Thank you for taking me out tonight even though I was being a whiny ass. I'm realizing what I've been missing out on," he said, looking across the street to where a little boy was calling his name, giving him a wave and smile in return. "And I'm definitely realizing it's a lot more fun with you, by my side".

"Well, I'm having the best Halloween ever if that means anything," you smiled, watching as he waved to the little kids who were starting to notice that they were trick-or-treating with Joe Burrow.

Joe pulled you even closer before planting a quick kiss on your forehead again, "Me too, and it's all thanks to you,".

Joe saw that satisfied grin on your face and felt his heart swell. You were happy. Knowing that he had a part in that made him feel like he was on Cloud 9. "I think I like seeing you like this more than I like watching the other team go 3 and out during a game," he said with a silly grin.

"You're just saying that just to say it," you shook your head as you two strolled down the sidewalk.

"Nope. I'd wear this every Halloween if it meant I could see you smile like this. You look like you're about to explode from excitement," he laughed.

"Well, I think I might. My mission was accomplished. You're enjoying Halloween," you said while letting go of him, moving so that you two were face to face. You grabbed his hand and started to walk backward down the sidewalk, leading him along with you. "We're healing your inner child, one 'trick or treat' at a time,".

"You know, you might be right?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Just don't tell my mom because I think she'll actually freak if we tell her you got me to trick or treat since she tried soooo hard when I was little to get me out here,".

You let out a loud laugh, "It'll be our secret,".

"Good, because I wouldn't do this for anyone else. Just you," he said, giving you a heated look, his icy eyes sending shivers down your spine. The playfulness in his voice was replaced with heat, and you weren't sure what made him do such a 360 all of a sudden.

"Woahhh, slow down with those bedroom eyes. We still have a few more houses to hit up," you giggled.

"Sorry," he shook his head, snapping out of his daze. "I just remembered how easy it is to take a onesie off and got excited,".

"Like I said, you're always DTF," you smiled, turning back around and pulling him down the sidewalk with you.

"Only for you though," he smiled, innocently tapping your ass which caused a gasp to leave your lips.

"Joseph Lee! There are children around!" you shrieked, looking back at him with wide eyes as your cheeks flushed with surprise and embarrassment.

"What? It was just a little tap," he shrugged. "Besides, we're allowed to have some fun, right? It is Halloween,".

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" you said, trying to hide your laughter.

"But you love it," he said, leaning closer as he winked at you, his confidence shining through. "And I think the kids are too focused on their candy to notice what I'm doing,".

You looked around, watching as the kids ran past you both with their candy hauls in hand, realizing he was right. "Okay, but still. You better keep your hands to yourself unless you want the whole neighborhood to see your stitch onesie getting stripped off,".

"Relaaax, baby. It won't happen again, at least not until we're somewhere a little more...private," he said, tapping your ass again but before you could say something, he ran in front of you to escape your anger.

"Oh hell no," you shook your head, watching as he ran backward, his tongue sticking out at you in mockery as he sported a cocky grin.

"Catch me if you can!" he yelled, his laughter echoing as he picked up speed.

"He's such a kid," you whispered to yourself, "You're going to regret that!" you shouted back, your competitive spirit breaking free as you took off after him.

He really was a full-blown kid tonight, and it was all thanks to you. You got him to loosen up, to laugh a little harder, and to enjoy something he had grown to hate. Each doorbell you rang seemed to chip away at the walls he had built around Halloween, and the joy in his eyes was heartwarming.

You ran down the sidewalk, chasing after him as best as you could, but Joe being the sneaky athletic man he is, was just too fast for your pace. "He chooses the wrong time to show that he has wheels," you thought to yourself. Before you knew it, he had led you down a dark backroad and was nowhere in sight. You were far from your familiar neighborhood streets, the spooky decorations and orange lights now a blur in the background as you were now standing on an eerily quiet street. The shadowy road sent a shiver down your arm, "Joe?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet environment.

You got no response.

You bit your lip, gripping your bag a little tighter as you stay alert, turning your head to check if he was near you. "Joe? This isn't funny! I swear to God," you said, swallowing hard. The usual sounds of forest critters were oddly silent, providing no comfort to you at the moment.

"Did he even come down here? Maybe I wasn't paying too much attention to which way he went," you muttered to yourself, slowly beginning to walk up the road and back to where you came from. "But then where did he go?".

"Joe? I'm serious," you yelled out again, your voice laced with frustration and nervousness. This was the exact kind of thing he would do to spook you, so maybe that's what he was doing.

Before you could call out again, you heard a faint sound--like a crunch of leaves under a foot.

You didn't turn around to see what it was, instead, you stopped walking and froze, your bottom lip starting to tremble as fear crept into your mind.

There was nothing down here. And by nothing, you mean nothing. Not a single house, not a single car, and not a single soul. Just trees, a road, and a distant view of your neighborhood.

So who was behind you?

You didn't want to turn around to see who it was out of fear. It could be Joe, but it also could be some psycho in a ghost mask with a knife, waiting to stab you to death. "Oh shut up, Y/N. Scream is a movie. A MOVIE." you lectured yourself, mentally slapping yourself for sounding like Joe.

You shook your head to push away the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. You quickened your pace as you walked towards the familiar shapes of the neighborhood. Each hasty step made your heart pound louder in your chest, drowning out your breath. Behind you, the sounds grew louder as you heard the rustling leaves and the faint crunch of footsteps on gravel--each noise sent a rush of anxiety through you.

"Absolutely not. I'm not dying before I witness a Bengals Super Bowl win," you mumbled to yourself before you reached up to pull your hood down, then kicked back and started bolting up the road.

"Come on, come on," you muttered, your breath hitching as you heard the distance between you and whatever was behind you shrink.

But then, your heart stopped as two strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you back, your back bumping into something solid and hard. "AHHHH!" you shrieked. "Please don't kill me! I swear, I didn't do any- anything," you screamed while feeling tears in your eyes.

And then you heard it, a laugh. Deep, unmistakable, and...familiar.

"Scared you, didn't I?" Joe rasped in your ear, his arms tightening around your waist.

Your heart was still pounding from the rush, "Joe!" you shouted, giving him a halfhearted shove and releasing yourself from his arms. "That wasn't funny! I thought you were some...masked psycho about to murder me,".

He reached out, placing his hands on your shoulders while stabling himself, "And this- And this is why you shouldn't watch Scream," he panted, catching his breath, the laughter still lingering in his eyes.

"Fuck you," you panted, coming from a place of playfulness and fun.

Joe's hands slid down to your waist, pulling you into him with one swift movement, "Aww, was my baby scared?" he pouted.

You stared into his eyes with irritation, "Yes." you muttered without hesitation.

"Aw, I'm sorry," he smiled, pushing your head into his chest as he swayed you back and forth, "But at least now we know how you'd last in a horror movie,".

You rolled your eyes before breaking out in a grin--you just couldn't help yourself, "Who knew Joey B was final girl material? I mean, look at those wheels," you teased.

"Damn right," he chuckled, then leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. "I think you need to learn a few things from me. No way you should be that slow when your boyfriend is Joey Wheels,".

You let out an offended scoff before lightly slapping his chest, "I'm not that slow," you said.

"Mhmmm," he hummed, "Whatever helps you sleep at night,".

You shook your head before going back to his chest, "You're having one good Halloween and think you're the shit now, aren't you?".

"Precisely," he nodded, "But that's all you're doing, baby. You asked for this," he chuckled.

He did it to make you happy, which worked. And you did it to make him happy, which also worked. You two made amazing memories tonight, carefully uninstalling the bitter ones from his childhood and replacing them with happier ones. You loved to see him happy and carefree like this, you never wanted that smile to come off his face.

"Well, you scaring me is a good thing I guess. You're not the one scared anymore, I am," you smiled up at him. "Healing your inner child, one step at a time,".

-- -- --

A few hours later -- back at the house

"I didn't think that would be so fun," Joe said as he rummaged through his candy collection on the bed while you were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. "You seriously have me questioning why I ever dreaded Halloween,".

You laughed from inside the bathroom, "It's because you didn't have me around to show you the ropes. I told you I'd change your mind!" you shouted just loud enough for him to hear you.

"My miracle worker," he chuckled, opening up a Snickers bar and taking a bite of the chocolatey treat.

Back in the bathroom, you were currently standing in front of the mirror, looking at the red, lacy lingerie that you had slipped on under your onesie before you left earlier. You knew that even though he'd complain about it, Joe would come through and make your wish come true. And in return, he deserved a treat when you both got back and you wanted to show him how much you appreciated him loosening up for you on a night that had never been his favorite.

He thought you were just in here, doing your skincare and slipping into your PJs, but instead, you were getting ready to give him the real treat he deserved. "He's going to love this," you smirked, pulling one of his old LSU shirts over your body along with your sleep shorts.

You grabbed one of Joe's favorite perfumes of yours, giving it a few spritzes around your body, before fluffing your hair, turning out the lights, and leaving the bathroom.

"Babe, you gotta try these watermelon sour patch kids," Joe said as he dug through the tiny packet and popped a few into his mouth.

You smiled at the sight before you--Joe sprawled out on the bed in just his boxers, looking effortlessly irresistible. His disheveled hair and relaxed posture were a stark contrast to the playful, innocent stitch he’d been just a few hours ago. It was like seeing two sides of him in one night, each one captivating in its own way.

"Insane duality as usual," you murmured, barely containing a grin as you took him in.

Once he heard you close the bathroom door, Joe's gaze tracked your every step as you walked back into the room, his eyes sparking with curiosity. He picked up on a subtle shift in your energy, the way your confidence was shining brighter than usual, making his smirk grow. He threw his half-finished candy onto the nightstand, leaning back against the soft headboard with his hands behind his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Hi," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You gave him a slow once over, taking note of every vein, every curve of his muscles, and especially that happy trail that led to one of your favorite things in the world. ""Hi," you said, giving him a devilish grin, your tone laced with heat. "Enjoy your candy?" you teased.

"Yeaahhh...," he trailed off, "You alright?" he asked a few seconds later once you stopped at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, I'm more than alright," you thought to yourself, clearing your throat and standing up straight. "Trick or Treat?" you smirked at him.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your question, especially because he could tell it was coming from a place of mischief. "What?" he asked.

"You heard me," you bit your lip and said. "Trick or Treat?".

Joe raised an eyebrow at your tone--it was light, a little heated, and incredibly playful. Was this going where he thought it was? "I think I’m going with treat,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he slowly leaned forward. “But I’m curious…just what kind of treat am I in for?”

"Hmmm, you know," you said while gazing deeply into his starry eyes, "The hot kind. The messy kind. The sexy kind,".

And as if on cue, you reached for the bottom of your shirt, quickly pulling the fabric up and over your head before throwing it at Joe's face, his eyes widening once he got a glimpse at the lacy red bra that covered the part of your body that Joe was insanely obsessed with. "Y/N..." he murmured, his heart skipping a beat once he saw you turn around so your back was facing him, your hair moving to the front which gave him the perfect view of the thin lace straps.

You pulled your shorts down, bending over so you could reach down to get them out of your feet and to also give Joe a generous view of your lace-covered ass.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, the tent in his boxers growing at the sight of your toned, lace-covered body.

You flipped back around, watching as his hand absentmindedly inched closer to his erection, shifting it to feel momentary relief because of the way you were torturing him right now. You flashed him a playful grin before kneeling on the bed, your fingernails running up against his leg as you moved closer and closer to his torso.

"Baby, I-," he choked out as he felt your hand graze over his shaft.

"Shh, it's okay. Just lay back and relax. You earned this for doing good tonight. You did it for me, to see me happy, to see me smile. You had fun tonight and you did something out of your comfort zone, all for me. You deserve a treat for being so good to me, baby," you nodded, both your bodies now filled with heat and desire, the need to feel each other overpowering any other emotion.

You leaned down, your lips coming into contact with the fabric of his boxers as you pressed gentle kisses around his upper thighs. Joe tossed his head back at the sudden contact, and as your lips inched closer to his shaft, his body jerked while a string of sounds fell from his lips. "B- Baby, stop teasing," he mumbled, his hand stuffed into your hair as he lightly pulled on the strands. "I need y- you,".

You smirked at his faltering cockiness, then trailed your kisses up his body, following his happy trail. Your tongue glided along the curvature of each of his semi-visible abs, up to his pecs, and then to his neck.

You had shifted so that you were now comfortably seated in his lap, and Joe's hands were firmly placed on each side of your waist, slowly moving your hips back and forth against his shaft to feel relief.

You attached your lips to his neck, your goal was to leave as many golden tattoos as you could. "Mm, Y/N," he whimpered in your ear as he felt you suck harder on his favorite spot. "So good for me, baby," he sighed, his self-control being very close to being thrown out the window.

"I know," you smirked, moving to another spot on his neck to repeat the action. Your hand placed on his jaw as you moved his face to the side. Your tongue glided over the marks you left on his neck, a hiss coming from his lips at the slight burning sensation.

As the minutes passed by and you continued to tease him with your lips, he was getting more and more restless. And you could feel it. "Baby, please. I need to..I need to feel you around me," he whimpered again, pulling you out of his neck and meeting your firey eyes.

"Your wish is my command," you said, leaning in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss as you sat up on your knees, allowing him to pull down his boxers, his cock coming free and grazing against your thigh.

You leaned down to shift your lacy panties to the side, your wetness seeping through and dripping down onto Joe's lap, a throaty chuckle leaving his lips. "Even when you try to be in control, I still have you like this," he mumbled between the kiss as you grabbed his erection, using your thumb to spread the pre-cum along his slit before sliding it between your slick folds.

"We'll see," you smirked, sinking straight down onto his hard cock, a moan leaving his lips at the sudden contact.

"Y/N...," he moaned, his hands shifting down to grab your ass with a firm grip.

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you slid up and down his cock, your pace frantic and needy which matched the feeling you both shared in the moment. His head falls forward to rest on your shoulder, your hand inching into his hair as you pull him closer. His groans got louder, each one sending a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. "Yeah, you like that?" you whispered in his ear as you felt him buck into your core.

"Fuck, yeah," he moaned, his hands moving to grip your waist, the pads of his fingers digging deep into your skin. "Just like that, yeah,"

A shock of pleasure ripped through your veins, "You feel so good, Joey, sound so pretty for me," you moaned, feeling his tip hit your sweet spot as you leaned into him, his fully arms wrapping around your torso to steady you.

"My girl, you're doing so good, Y/N. I love...I love fucking you," he whimpered, his hips starting to snap up into yours in a way that drove you crazy. Each push of his cock into your wet heat felt like you were being brought into a new world; so intense and lively.

"Joey, ah," you moaned. "You're so...you make me feel so good," you moaned, feeling the way he gripped your hips and guided you back and forth on his cock.

You felt his hand inch up your back, his fingers finding the clasp of your lingerie top and undoing it in one easy motion. He quickly pulled the straps down, throwing the lacy piece across the room before attaching his lips to the skin of your breasts. "Oh," you whimpered, leaning back to give him enough room to work his magic on you.

"See?" he panted as he nipped at your skin. "This was for me, b- but, ah," he moaned once he felt you clench around him for a second, "I still have you like this,".

"You'll always have me like this, Joe," you whimpered, your legs starting to burn because of your movements. You threaded your fingers into his hair again, pulling him out of your chest and up to your lips, "Fuck, baby," you whined before he crashed his lips onto yours, his hips snapping up into yours even harder than before.

You picked up your movements as both your moans got louder and louder, the room now filled with sounds of skin hitting skin and your breathless whimpers. "Joe, I..I'm so close, mmph, fuck," you whined, dropping your head onto his chest as you slid up and down his shaft, your core starting to clench his cock more frequently.

"Shit, me too," he choked out, his breath hitting your ear as he melted into you with each rock of your hips and thrust of his thick cock. "I'm gonna cum, fuck...Y/N, I-," he said, getting quieter as he leaned into you more, his cock starting to twitch as he repeatedly slammed into your sweet spot.

You felt your eyes start to roll back, both your bodies moving at an uneven pace, "Cum for me, Joey. You did so good tonight, let it go," you whimpered in his ear.

"Oh, fuck," he hissed, "'Fuck, fuck. I f- forgot a condom, baby. W- where-,".

"In me," you moaned. "Cum in me, it's okay," you whined, your bundle of nerves begging for release as you felt Joe's cock thrust into your core with an intensity he could only display in front of you.

"Y/N," he whimpered, his cock stilling inside you after one final, rough thrust that caused your legs to shake. "Ahh, fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back against the headrest as his warm release filled your dripping core, the feeling of him filling you was something he could never get over. It made him feel so damn good, and you just loved to feel him inside you, any way shape, and form.

"Oh, fuck," you screamed, gripping his shoulders again as you guided yourself along his cock, "I- I'm-,".

"I've got you," he moaned, opening his eyes and briefly staring at the ceiling before looking back down at you and the way your lip was between your teeth, your eyes were screwed shut, and how your hair was sticking to your skin from the thin layer of sweat on your body.

He moved his hand down to your slick entrance, his thumb finding your clit, and all it took was a few seconds for you to come crashing down on his body. The expert movement of his skillful hands wasn't just useful on the football field. Hell, they might have been best used on you and not on the ball he throws every day. "Joe!" you screamed, falling into his chest as your core rhythmically clenched around his shaft, a wave of pleasure crashing over you while you felt your release drip onto his lap.

"God, I'm fucking obsessed with you," he mumbled as he peppered kisses around your neck, up your jaw, and to your mouth as you chanted his name over and over.

A few seconds later, you caught your breath, "Holy shit," you panted, your legs still shaking from your high as your body fell limp against his. "Fuck, that was...,".

He chuckled lowly, "Hot? Intense? Sweet?" his voice raspy in your ear as his hand slid up and down your back, tracing invisible shapes into your skin.

"Precisely," you giggled, pressing a kiss to his muscular chest. "Happy Halloween, babe. Hope you enjoyed your treat,".

He tilted your chin up, catching your gaze with that soft, unguarded look that always melted you. “Happy Halloween, baby. Thanks for tonight,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you close again. As you snuggled against him, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. His hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "You gave me the treat of a lifetime tonight. In more ways than just one," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I’ll never forget it,".

"I love you," you mumbled.

"I love you too," he smiled, dropping another kiss on your forehead before getting lost in your warmth.

"You know...since you're pretty comfortable with Halloween now...next year, we should throw our own Halloween Party at the house for everyone," you smiled against his chest.

Joe snapped his eyes open, "Woahh, baby steps," he laughed.

You couldn't help but smile, knowing just how far you'd come in the quest to make Mr. Anti-Halloween, Mr. Pro-Halloween. "Alright, alright," you teased, giving his chest a playful tap, "But we'll see what the future holds. Maybe you'll be the one planning it next year,".

His laughter vibrated through his chest, and he tightened his arms around you, his smile so soft and content. "You’ve already got me wrapped around your finger. I’ll do whatever you want, baby" he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Good," you beamed. "I've already got your costume for next year in mind,".

"And what is it?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

You bit your lip and hid your face in his chest again before saying, "I know you said for our eyes only...but...I wanna see you in it as many times as I can,".

"Nope," he shook his head, already knowing what you were going to say. "No way in hell,".

"Yessss," you giggled while patting his chest. "You'd look so fucking sexy, I think every girl in Ohio would drop to their knees,".

Joe playfully rolled his eyes, "You know what? Fine. I'll wear the Joker costume, but only on one condition," he said.

"Okay, I'm listening," you nodded, your excitement bubbling beneath your skin already.

He smirked as he leaned down to level his mouth with your ear, "We repeat what we just did, right now," he rasped. "Right now, maybe again tomorrow night, and after we do the whole 'our eyes only' thing, and maybe make it a Halloween tradition and do this all over again next year,".

You gently leaned up, pressing your lips to his before saying, "Deal, Joker," then feeling his hands wrap around your hips and flip you over on the bed.

--the end--

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow bengals #joey burrow #nfl imagine #joeyb

610 notes · View notes

grimesgirll · 6 months ago

Note

heyy could you write Negan smut, with them both fighting for dominance while they fuck, taunting each other; Maybe because they known each other before the apocalypse so she isn’t as intimidated by Negan like the rest.

you have to be the hottest thing he’s seen in quite sometime.

negan, simon, and dwight had heard the gunshots from your shotgun and stumbled upon you; all alone, fending off a few dozen walkers.

simon had insisted that they leave and not risk their safety for “some broad”, and negan was on board until he realized that wasn’t just any broad - it was you.

the three cut through the horde of walkers at negan's insistence. braving bloated corpses and trudging over the trampled isn't a simple feat - even with guns. minutes pass until you're finally face to face. half dazed, you did a double take once your eyes suddenly met the disgraced gym teacher's.

then you hit the ground.

when you woke up, mr. smith was there. you were shocked to see him and even more surprised to learn that he was the leader of an up and coming survival group.

“what about your wife?” you’d asked. “mrs. smith is really cool.”

made slightly dramatic by age, the pained twist of the former faculty's face has you regretting your question.

mrs. smith was really cool.

mr. smith had once been too. kind as well. negan is looks cool, and you can't deny that there's a cult of personality that can't be beat with him. not kind though.

no, you'd learned your first week that the gym teacher who had once teased you about college partying on the playground was now a certified psychopath. as a teaching assistant and faculty shadow at the school, you'd befriended negan easily. the two of you pulled off witty banter as you dropped the kids off for gym, even accepting invitations to join the day's activity.

mr. smith was no more and negan's now burning faces off. you'd seen that. just like you'd seen the floggings, the beatings, the spankings, and even the wall. waking up one day to see the nurse you'd grown fond of outside wandering as a walker was enough for you to tweak.

“what did she do?”

negan looks up from a map of northern virginia to grin at you. “hey, doll! what’s goin’ on?” he kicks his feet up on the desk. “don’t see much of you around here.”

��yeah, because i can barely get by your goons.”

he shrugs. “seems like you got up here just fine.”

you’d sideskirted fat joey when he left his post to top off his dr. pepper. it was easy enough to walk your way to negan’s office to confront him.

“why is the woman who trained me walking around the front yard as a zombie?” you question, not breaking eye contact with the smirking leader. “what could she have done to deserve that?” you let out an exasperated breath, reigning it in with another deep umhals before asking, “don’t you think that’s fucking extreme?”

if negan softens, you really can’t tell. all that comes from the man is a laugh. “you mean the nurse who was planning on robbin’ us all blind and hightailing it with nearly all of our narcotics?”

you don’t even have the care to gawk at him. “could she not have been rehabilitated?”

he scoffs at you. “once an addict, always an addict.”

a sudden wave of dread comes over you, and for a moment you think it may be your lunch coming back up but one look at your former fellow faculty member and you know it’s purely disgust.

“she was my friend!”

“you’ll make more!”

“she was my only friend here,” the words croak out of your mouth.

negan just chews on his lip and shrugs. “sorry, honey, you’ll just have to start bein’ friendlier then.” a smirk spreads across his leather-like, aged face. “might have to drop the whole resting bitch face.”

you’re fuming. the column of rage growing from your belly pangs with no place to go. “for you freaks?”

your outburst has fat joey huffing and puffing his way through the threshold of the door.

“everything, okay, boss?” the grunt looks from your red face to his relaxed leader. “sorry bout’ her. she shouldn’t be up here.”

negan waves a hand. “don’t worry about it, joey. i can handle her.”

joey nods when a “handle me?” is flying from your mouth and negan just shoots him a cheeky grin.

“let me walk you back down there, doll.” negan insists.

when he rises from his desk, you realize how he towers over you, something you’d never clocked despite how often you two had been in close quarters back at school. you’re glaring up to meet his dark eyes - the ones that glint in the light like he hadn’t subjected a young woman to the most gruesome death - not including her life after death.

“this way, you,” negan is shepherding you with a hand on your back and all you can do is grumble as you pass his lazy goon.

once the two of you are in the hallway, you slap his hand off of him. “don’t touch me,” you sneer.

he chuckles. “whatever you wish, princess, just stop interrupting me from my important shit with your emotional shit, ‘kay?”

you shake your head. “what would mrs. smith think of all this? surely you don’t think you’re in the right. your wife would’ve hated this.”

negan gestures to the empty, desolate stairwell the two of you are descending. “she look like she’s here?”

“doesn’t matter. what happened to your morals?” you spit, stopping in your tracks to turn and face the taller man, standing on a higher step so that you’re both at eye level. “you were a school teacher.”

“yeah, and you would’ve been dead if we hadn’t brought you in.”

“so i should be happy with the freak show you’re putting on here?”

the expressive leader throws his arms out to motion to the compound. “look around, it’s bread and circuses!” he says simply. “you work, you get a bed, and a safe place to live.” a devious expression overtakes his countenance. “and a show!”

“i hate it here.” you declare nastily.

he snorts. “you hate not being in control, and all the safe little assurances we had before. things are different now.”

“no,” you counter, face coming closer to his. “you’re different now.”

“gotta be to survive nowadays, darlin’, now hurry it up. you need to get back to stitchin’ up my men so they can go out and bring you back ravioli, morphine, soap, toilet paper, all that shit you’re bitchin’ about having.”

“you’re a psycho,” you huff at him as he ushers you down the stairs, another level, and the familiar way towards the infirmary.

“you’re just not adjusted yet. just stick to changing bedpans and we won’t have a problem,” negan instructs with a hand on your back again.

you brush him off once you two have entered the sterile, white infirmary where doctor carson is talking quietly with one of negan’s goons.

“what’s goin’ on here, doc?” negan questions, startling the two.

negan’s man is pale - and sweating buckets. the doctor stands from his bedside to face negan.

“hello, negan, we were just finishing up.”

“finishing up what?”

the pit in your stomach grows when you notice the sickly man on the bed scurrying to fold the fabric of his shirt back over his stomach. the doctor has a pokerface but you didn’t need them to answer to know what was going on.

“what’s goin’ on, dan? feelin’ alright?” negan doesn’t give the doctor a chance to answer before he’s next to his commissioned scavenger, towering over him now.

dan nods. “feelin’ fine. just scraped up and tired as hell after gettin’ back from carolina.”

“i bet!” that loud voice booms throughout the room. “mighty long trip that was. thanks again, man.” the clap to dan’s back from his leader almost has him buckling. “but you don’t look so good, bud. got something to tell me?”

“negan-,” the doctor starts but he’s quickly silenced by a simple raise of the leader’s hand.

“nope, doc. i wanna hear it from dan here.”

the man’s nervous eyes flicker from doctor carson and to you. you want to crumple where you stand. though his eyes are pleading, there’s nothing you can do. only manage your growing disgust as you watch negan reach for his sidearm.

then negan does something that surprises you, he leans down to embrace the man in a hug.

“thank you, it was just a long trip.” dan’s bumbling, but negan shushes him.

“don’t worry bout’ it, dan.”

that’s when the bullet departs the chamber and implants itself in dan’s brain.

the man who’d just been alive slumps down and falls onto the newly bloodied bedsheets. the white wall behind him is sprayed with brains and chrome. the salt and pepper haired leader stands from the bed and yawns, stretching as if he wasn’t leaving a mess of blood and trauma for you and the doctor to clean up and process.

“back to work. keep an eye on her, doc.”

“negan, you sick fuck.”

this time, negan’s holding his council and heatedly harping on gregory.

the man lets out an exasperated breath. “who the fuck wasn’t watching the door?”

his legion of doom is bewildered to see the sullen nurse standing in the doorway. dwight’s apathetic as always, but is the first to offer to escort you out while simon’s telling gregory to “shut the fuck up” and laura’s looking at you as if no one could be more annoying as to drag this meeting on.

“joey!”

one shout and you hear heavy footsteps thudding down the hall. breathing raggedly, the guard wraps himself around the doorway and drops his sandwich at the sight of you.

“so sorry, boss. she really sneaks in!”

the older man just shakes his head. “don’t let it happen again or gregory gets it.”

laughter erupts from the room. everyone at the table is dropping their dauntless demeanor as if on cue. the only one not laughing is gregory of course.

“negan, listen-,”

“ah!” negan interrupts him, straining against his leather jacket when he turns his body towards him. “you shut it! i hate having my shit interrupted, and i hate having supply drops interrupted far more than meetings.” he directs his attention from the man from hilltop back to you. “why don’t you just take a seat, honey? we’ll be done soon.”

you shake your head. “i’m not trying to stay here any longer than i have to. i need this sorted out now.”

“if you wanna talk, doll, you’ll have to wait your turn. i’m talking to gregory right now.”

“i don’t even want to talk to you.”

he exhales flippantly. “then why are you here? interrupting my important meeting.”

“i came for my shotgun.”

negan chuckles, crossing his arms. “you think you’re gettin’ that thing back? after the mood you’ve been stirring up here?”

you do your best to ignore the way he’s laughing and dismissing you or how he’s manspreading all over the chair he’s parked in.

“i need my stuff now. i’m leaving tonight.”

it’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room. you can see negan’s jaw tighten in real time, and the room stiffens. waiting for a reaction is half the angst but you don’t have time for it. don’t even want to defend your decision, especially in front of everyone here.

“out!”

chair legs scrape against the ground as some of negan’s senior partners in psychopathy begin to egress.

gregory is just looking flabbergasted. “but we had a meeting?”

“everyone, out. now!”

all it takes is a “negan doesn’t like to repeat himself” and dwight is shuffling gregory out of the room, simon taking up the rear.

“see you soon, hun’,” he taunts to you.

you don’t have enough time to process his words because he’s shutting the door behind you and probably mentally rescheduling this meeting. you could care less.

“enough, negan smith.” he blinks at the full name callout. “i want my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair. you won’t have to worry about me.”

negan’s off his feet again and sitting on top of the table now. he points to the chair next to the head. “sit.”

“i don’t want to sit.” you insist. “i already told you, i don’t want to talk, i want to go.”

“yeah, well we’re gonna talk first, so sit your ass down.”

you don’t want to spend anymore time in this nutjob factory than you have to but you want your shotgun back. so you walk across the room and you stand at the chair.

“what do you have to say to me?” you inquire.

“god, look at you!”

you roll your eyes.

“a few weeks after getting your life saved, getting your needs taken care of and you’re ready to go back to that?”

“i don’t want to be at your constant mercy.” you say plainly. “not that you can really call it mercy.”

with every retort from him being a laugh, your patience is growing thin. he snickers upon seeing your frown. “so, you want to take your chances out there instead of taking a little time to let me help figure out your problem?”

you throw up your hands. “figure out my problem? i came to you to help figure out my problem and you said to just deal with it. to ‘adjust’. well, i can’t. i can’t live like this. it’s not humane.”

“yeah, and it’s humane out there?”

“better than bitching in here.”

“well, i think i can help with that. won’t be getting your shotgun back.”

“oh, so you can’t help at all?” you snap.

he whistles. “never said that.” his eyes drop from your gaze down your torso to your thighs. he pats the table next to him. “come sit on the table.”

“no. i want to go. now.”

“alright then.”

“negan!”

you exclaim when he scootches off the table to scoop you up by your legs and middle and plop you down.

“let doctor negan see if he can help.”

“what are you-,”

“ah! look at that.”

“ah!”

the sudden sensation of a finger against your denim covered cunt has your face flushing and red. “been touched there in a while, honey?”

“just give me my shotgun,” you breathe, desperately trying with your eye contact to communicate that things aren’t going the way you expected.

“let me give you some reprieve, clear your head, and then we can see if you still want your shotgun.”

you shake your head as he starts pulling down your pants. “you think your wife would be okay with this?”

“she here?”

you curse yourself for giving him such an easy answer. you curse yourself for not doing anything other than pouting and wiggling once he’s at your waistband. you curse the little wet spot soaked though your underwear even more.

“god, i knew confrontation would get you wet.”

“so you planned this?”

the older man shakes his head, taking another moment to fully lock eyes with you, even as he towers over you on the table. “no, i’m thinking that we both walked into this.”

maybe you shouldn’t have walked in, you ponder as negan walks your undies down your thighs with his fingers and walks them right back to your dripping center. the hair you have down there is already slick, a damp curtain pried open by negan’s thick fingers.

“shit,” you rasp when a finger braves the pool of anticipation that’s only growing and delves further against your inner walls.

“want me stop there?” the fucker’s finger stills inside of you and the other dancing just above your clit comes to a halt.

you don’t respond, just lock eyes with negan and try to catch your breath. “that’s not fair,” you point out in a voice just above a whisper. “can’t stop now.”

“or can i?”

you shake your head. “don’t.”

maybe clearing the tension that’s been building like a twentieth century skyscraper inside of you will sort you out. or you could just say fuck it. the world’s ended anyways.

negan surely fucks a finger stationed inside of you back and forth. twisting and testing the waters before adding another. the extra finger curls inside you deliciously while he utilizes another to play around your clit.

the attention he’s paying to your once undisturbed nether regions is enough to have you creaking and moaning like an old door hinge and hinging forward into negan. he’s quick to let you fall forward into his arms. the sudden acceptance is all he needs to speed up.

“i know that feels good, honey.”

“mhmm,” you murmur into his shoulder.

there’s a spot inside of you that he’s massaging just right and another on your exterior; an x doesn’t need to mark the spot for him to rile up your clit. slow, lazy circles have you grinding against him on the table. how can you bemoan him when he’s about to pull the perfect release from you?

you know that because your breath is picking up again and you’re blubbering into his sturdy shoulder. those motions are telltale. mrs. smith’s memory hasn’t kept this man celibate.

the widower has his hand on your back again and the hand beneath you has its own task. the task at hand is executed with more skill than any boy you’d ever fooled around with in college or anyone who came after - not that there were many given how things had gone. you’d like to think that if shit hadn’t hit the fan, you would’ve settled down with someone like mr. smith but younger. this would have to do.

“clenchin’ so tight just around my fingers, baby. you always had the hots for me?”

you shake your head no truthfully. “this is the hots?”

“you feel hot down there baby, and my are you hot.” he lands the compliment with a kiss. you lean in, letting his tongue slip into your mouth because you’re too occupied with the build up brewing inside of you.

one glance down between you two and you see his fingers pumping. your heart rate jumps when you see the addition of another and now you’re being stretched out on his fingers on this table.

“god, you’re gorgeous. what a sweet little thing to have fallen into my lap.”

you curl further into his lap, legs now around him and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. all he has to do is curl his fingers and you’re yowling. “mhm, they’re deep.” you say, brain just observing.

“too deep?”

“no.”

thus, they plunge further. until the extra finger on the outside is stirring up more than your slick and heat courses through you. you shudder against negan but that doesn’t stop his routine. the shape of his fingers change inside of you and you’re bucking against him to feel each one.

“fuck, i’m gonna come,” you don’t want to say it out loud but you do anyways.

“on my fingers?” negan sniggers. “you poor thing. c’mon now, i know it must’ve been a while.” he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit. “just let go, honey, it’ll help.”

and it does.

letting your lizard brain take the lead is all you need for your mind to go blank. if even for a second, it releases the anxiety and the anger that’d consumed you. you pulse and clamp down around his digits until suddenly he’s not moving at all but you’re rotating your hips against him.

riding out such a feeling, you blink the tears out of your eyes and do a double take once you notice negan removing his fingers and starting on his belt.

“what’re you doing?” you question, pussy still pulsing with a mind of its own.

“if you thought that helped you relax, this will put you to sleep. no more sleeping pills for you, darlin’.”

“how did you know about that?”

“doctor carson doesn’t keep secrets from me. he didn’t need to tell me you weren’t adjusting well either.” negan states matter-of-factly, then dropping his blue plaid boxers.

you’re not sure how you’re going to adjust to the sight you’re met with. the cock in front of you is larger than any you’ve ever seen before. if negan’s fingers had you losing it, this thing will ruin you.

“i don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you admit when his hands land on your hips.

the distance between your needy bare entrance and his thick dick is only inches now. you shudder at the longing that’s whipping you and your thoughts around. you moan when he slides his hard, veiny cock against your entrance, slapping it against you once for good measure.

“nope, you’re tougher than you think.”

you meet his eyes again as if to question him. sure, he feels good against you but this is next level. better than fiction but what would happen after you both got your orgasms out of the way?

there’s no time for you to speculate because his lips are on yours again and you feel him lining himself up against you. “you want me to fuck all those fears out of your head, honey? you wanna feel good?”

how can you say no to that?

one nod of your head and his tip is teasing you. it takes you telling him, “please, put it in. i want it,” and then he’s plunging inside.

your face scrunches as a little burn becomes prominent from his size, but he kisses the lines away from your face. your temple, your nose, your lips, your cheek, he’s kissing you, saying, “good girl. you’re doing fantastic.”

you just eat up the praise and look down to see your pussy devouring him whole. the first two or three inches were a struggle just from lack of use but your lack of pleasure - the near sexual deprivation you’d experienced since shit hit the fan - overcomes it, and is pleasantly fulfilled.

in and out of you, negan works his hips and you can’t be happier. could a man you’d branded a psycho just minutes before be so adept at addressing your pleasure?

seems like it.

“god, you fuck well for a gym teacher.”

negan won’t let the snide comment slide so he wraps up his tour of purple rain against your collarbone to simper at you. “yeah, and for a frigid bitch, this pussy is hot and ready.”

“maybe i’m one of those dumb girls who’s attracted to psychos and serial killers?” you ponder playfully and wrap your arms negan’s neck to pull him in closer.

“oh, i’m gonna fuck you dumb, honey, don’t worry.” and with a roll of his hips, you have no reason to worry he won’t live up to his words.

you whine when he suddenly rams into you. his girth juts along your tight, inner walls. you meet his gaze again and just looking at his smug face has you tightening around him.

“god, baby, did you just fuckin’ squeeze me?”

“can you adjust?”

he grunts. “can you?”

you don’t have time to ask what you could possibly have to adapt to next because negan’s turning you into your stomach onto the table, tossing his leather jacket down for you to bury your face into. his absence from between your thighs brings on another whine but one moment of motion and now you feel him flush against your back, filling you to the brink with his cock.

“yeah, bet that brain can’t even think about an escape plan with that dumb little pussy stuffed so full. you gonna’ be able to walk tomorrow, honey?” he asks you tenderly as if he’s not on the verge of taking out your cervix.

“ne-negan! sto-,”

“-stop what?” he gyrates his hips nice and slow into you, dragging on the sensitive insides of your poor, overstimulated little cunt. “stop fucking you? because the way your pussy is clampin’ down, i don’t even know how i’m backing out of here baby.”

“don’t!” you beg.

“what?” he leans down to take your chin in his hands and see the angsty, pleasure induced tear starting to roll down your cheek. “god, you even look pretty when you cry. fuckin’ face like that.”

hips are stammering and negan’s words burn straight through to your core. he moans like a motherfucker when he feels the squeeze of your clingy little core on him. haywire all of this had gone, and now your climax is taking you over the edge.

“negan, don’t stop. don’t stop. don’t be an asshole,” you’re pleading.

he’s back to spearing you on his cock, leveraging your hips and throwing his head back. “don’t think i could, baby. not with a pussy this fucking fantastic.”

the praise is what does you in for the second time. any thought of undead nurses or public floggings leaves your brain and all you’re left with is the molten hot pleasure exploding inside of you. negan’s hand drifts down to your clit to have you absolutely crushing his cock.

“god, doll, you’re fuckin’ tight. so fuckin’ hot when you come like that. gonna have me doing a fuckin’ one and done for now.”

the huskiness of his voice and the twitch of him against your walls only eggs you on. your eyes are shut tight but you he’s all you can imagine. head on top of his jacket, you breathe in his scent, musky with a hint of the same cologne he wore back at school, and you’re creaming around him.

“fuck, doll!”

and he’s shooting his cream inside of you. the warmth fills you up and you no longer have the energy to move. any gyration of your hips has halted. a few more thrusts and he’s in the same boat. he collapses atop you for just a moment before pulling out and padding towards the table against the wall laden with napkins and refreshments that were supposed to be for the meeting.

you don’t turn your head but you can hear him grabbing some paper towels off the roll and clutching some other things.

“just gonna wipe between your legs,” he instructs and you let him.

your forehead against the table and those pretty eyes squeezed shut has negan rethinking a thing or two. suddenly he’s regretting not fucking you like the sweet thing you are. you deserved better than a table - at least his soft, king sized mattress if not a cloud.

once he finishes, he pats your back and nudges you up where he’s waiting with a water bottle - already open with the cap off. you accept with no issue and gulp the mini-sized bottle down easily.

“listen, why don’t you have dinner with the girls and i tonight? i’m not gonna give you your shotgun back just yet, but might change your mind about some things.”

#the walking dead #negan smith #negan smith smut #jeffrey dean morgan #twd smut #twd #twd imagine #twd negan #negan smith x reader #negan smith imagine #not beta read #i hope you liked this anon! kinda veered off but this had to get out of my drafts #let me know if we want a pt 2! kinda set the ending up for one #writing was lazy af but I haven’t been writing for the past two months so practice def helped #grimesgirll

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joeys-babe · 9 months ago

Text

Joey B Blurbs: Boyfriend

————————————————————————-

Summary: You prank Joe by calling him your boyfriend instead of your husband.

Warnings: Unserious/funny, pranks!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Imagine Universe: Into the Mystic

A/N: Part 2 of blurb night!

————————————————————————-

April 4, 2024

I was cuddled up on the couch, relaxed by the rain hitting the roof, and the twins played in their playroom while I watched TV.

Joe had left early this morning to go workout, and his mood seemed positive since he was able to start throwing again recently. His happy demeanor was infectious because I couldn't be more prouder of him than I was now. He rehabbed like a man on a mission, and he was now seeing benefits from it.

I was still lying in bed when he gave me a quick peck before leaving. Joe then said bye to my bump, and he was off to the gym.

Since then, I have gotten the boys ready for the day, fixed breakfast, did some quick cleaning around the house, made some lunch, and talked to Robin over the phone about Joe’s injury status.

I caught a whiff of Joe’s scent off of the sweatshirt of his that I had on.

A pang of sadness crept up in my mind when I realized just how much I hated being away from Joe.

I always hated being away from Joe for extended periods, but pregnancy hadn't made that any better.

Before I get could too lost in my thoughts, my phone started vibrating on the coffee table.

My heart warmed when I picked up the phone and saw it was Joe calling.

“Hey, babe.” - you

“Hey, Mama. I'm almost home.” - Joe

“Okay… good.” - you

“Good? Everything okay?” - Joe

“Yeah, I just miss you a lot.” - you

“I only went to go work out, baby.” - Joe laughed

“I know, but I don't like being away from you. Neither does your daughter.” - you

Joe felt his heart flutter at that, his daughter. He was so ready to be a girl dad.

“I’ll cuddle with you both when I get home.” - Joe

“Sounds perfect. I'll see you soon, Daddy.” - you

There’s a few seconds of silence until Joe clears his throat and speaks up. I hadn't ever called Joe that, but I still didn't mean it sexually.

“What did you call me?” - Joe

“Daddy, you know, because we were talking about the baby and you're her daddy.” - you

Joe cleared his throat yet again, and when he began talking, I didn't miss how his voice had dropped an octave.

“Oh. I thought you meant it in another way. You've just never called me that unless you were referring to me for the twins.” - Joe

“You liked it, didn't you?” - you

The grin in my voice was evident, and Joe’s dirty chuckle sent a sizzle of heat down my spine.

“Yeah. I’ll admit that I did. Damn, your hormones have been raging lately.” - Joe

“You don't help, Mr. Sexy.” - you

“And you are testing my control, Mrs. Sexy.” - Joe

We continued going back and forth till Joe announced that he was turning onto our road. After quick I love you’s we hung up.

——

A minute later, Joe walked into the house with a big grin on his face.

“There’s my girl.” - Joe

“Hey, Joey.” - you

Joe went to climb onto the couch next to me, but I quickly stopped him.

“What?” - Joe

“Did you shower at the gym?” - you

“Yes, ma’am.” - Joe

“Okay, continue.” - you

He laughed before plopping down next to me and propping his feet up on the ottoman. I cuddled into Joe’s chest, and he snaked one of his hands under his my sweatshirt to put a big hand on my bump.

“Where are the boys?” - Joe

“They’ve been playing in the playroom. I just checked on them, and they were playing with their Hot Wheels.” - you

“Imma be right back.” - Joe

Joe pressed a kiss to my temple before getting up and heading to the boys' playroom.

A smile found its way onto my face when I heard Tyson and Miles cheering for their dad’s arrival home.

Joe would be gone for a few more minutes, and during that period, I realized Joe was due for another prank…

——

It was later that evening. Miles and Tyson were asleep, and I was in the kitchen, cleaning the rest of the kitchen up from dinner.

Joe was laying on the couch, waiting for me to come cuddle with him when I was done. Let the prank begin.

“Baby, come here.” - you

I heard the floorboards creak and soon, Joe’s tall frame was making an appearance beside me.

“What’s up?” - Joe

Setting my phone up on the counter, Joe side-eyed me when he saw that TikTok was pulled up.

“Why are you videoing?” - Joe

“It’s just an easy TikTok trend.” - you

“K.” - Joe mumbled

I clicked play on the video and Joe instinctively moved closer to me to where his body was pressed against mine.

“Hey, loves! There's a trend going around where you ask your boyfriend to touch his favorite parts of you, so I'm gonna do it with mine.” - you smiled

When I stepped to face Joe, he had a playful smile on his face and an eyebrow raised.

“What?” - you laughed

“I’m not your boyfriend.” - Joe

“Huh?” - you

“You called me your boyfriend. I'm not your boyfriend.” - Joe

I stared at him, trying to act dumbfounded, so Joe forged ahead.

“If I remember correctly, I put a pretty hefty ring on your finger and said vows to you in front of a hundred people. I haven't been just your boyfriend since January 30th, 2021. So… if you have a boyfriend, it isn't me, gotta be another man.” - Joe

“Joe…” - you laughed

“So who's your boyfriend?” - Joe

“I don't have one, it was a prank.” - you

“Yeah, that's what I thought, wifey.” - Joe grinned

“Calm down, hubby.” - you

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Next fic at 7:45

Request for this fic;

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year ago

Note

i DEFINITELY want more Frat Boy Sukuna!!! 😍😍😍😍

Oh man, you're twisting my arm so hard here nonnie, what ever will I do?

I guess I'm just going to have to post some headcanons and frame work I have for the up coming part 2 (Of which you can get on the tag list for it: here!) Oh! And if you want a refresher, you can find Seven Minuets in Heaven Here!

Now Presenting...

Some supplemental reading if you will ;)

Ok, lets start with just some basic information on our boy

Hes in the Alpha Beta Omega frat, or the ABO frat. The entire Frat is very quick to point out they’ve been around longer than ABO when you bring it up, minus Ryomen.

He just tells you he’s an Alpha and asks if you’re trying to be his Omega. It normally gets whatever reaction he wants

He’s majoring in business against his will (Remember this: It will come up) with a minor in he’s really about: History

If taking over his fathers very lucrative business (Again: This will come back up later) fails, he wants to be a history teacher.

He often bonds with Nanami over hating their shared major and being annoyed with Gojo and Geto making out in the most inconvenient places.

He sells drugs on the side to supplement his income, but nothing harder than weed because “Weeds not even a drug when you think about it.”

Is known for being the biggest manslut in the manslut frat. But hey, at least he gets tested regularly.

Ok, so now I want to start with a little bit of his background because it informs a lot about how I characterize him.

He’s Yuji’s older brother by about 4 years. Both of them look almost exactly like their father. The man really said Ctrl C, Ctrl V, Ctrl V.

Their father left when they were 7 and 3 respectively. Yuji doesn’t remember, but Ryomen very clearly remembers how horrible their father was to their mother. To him, it was a relief when that asshole finally abandoned the family for good.

The family moved in with their Grandpa, who was one of the very old school “I will only tell my kids I love them on my death bed” types. He also died when the boys were only 13 and 9.

Meaning our boy never really had a good role model for how to perform masculinity, and now that he’s an adult he finds himself pretending to be the type of man media told him he was supposed to be. Somewhere between Tyler Durden and Joey Tribbiani. He doesn’t think he’s very good at this performance.

The moment he turned 16, he started getting piercings to try and look less like his dad. The moment he turned 18 he got his tattoos to really separate himself from his father. Yuji thinks it’s insane, but Ryomen thinks it’s worth it to be able to look in the mirror without wanting to punch it.

His father reached out to him his senior year of high school. He offered to pay for 100% of Sukuna’s college tuition, as long as he majored in business and took over the “family” company once he graduated.

Yea, turns out dear old dads new wife couldn’t conceive, and his smoking had finally caught up with him in the form of lung cancer. Faced with an inevitable death, he was desperate for an heir.

Ryomen may have despised his father with everything in his being, but he realized how stupid it would be to throw away not only a free education, but also a guaranteed career. So he agreed.

OKAY now that that’s outta the way, let’s get into how he is in a relationship ��

You are his first real relationship. He’s had “relationships” that lasted officially about 2 weeks at the longest. He’s had a plethora of situationships where he’d make promises he had no intention to keep. But as far as actually, serious, relationships you’re number one.

And genuinely this new emotion kinda scares the shit out of him. The first time he got love pangs he thought he was having a panic attack, the first time you brushed him off he felt like he shattered. this shit sucks yo, no wonder the Greeks thought it was a mental illness.

He has no idea how to properly love someone, he’s winging this shit: Doing everything entirely based on vibes

In his past “relationships” the moment conflict arose, he would leave. He doesn’t want to do that to you though, so head it is.

I’m not joking, the moment you have an issue he’s taking you to bed to try and distract you. And he’s always shocked when you still want to, ya know, communicate about issues you’re having after the fact. And he’s always even more shocked when you don’t just leave the moment conflict arises.

Did I mention he has no real concept of how healthy relationships work?

He’s trying though. He’s trying harder to make this work than he’s trying to keep his grades up.

Often catches himself flirting with other girls without even realizing it, it’s just second nature to him. He’ll always disengage the moment he realizes

Oh he’s jealous. Oh he’s so jealous. He sees you just talking to another guy and he’s spiraling in his head. He’s immediately getting involved and planting hickies on your neck right in front of whoever you’re talking to, because you’re his god damn it.

As such he loves to buy you jewelry. His dad’s got fuck you money, and he plans to spend it all on you. His current favorite thing to see you wear it a dainty, golden chain, with a ruby encrustedfrat b R hanging from it. It looked gorgeous on you, and marked you as undeniably his.

Suguru has 1000% had to talk him out of getting a tattoo of your name, this man is down so unbelievably bad. He’s never really been in love before, and now that he’s feeling it he’s overwhelmed by it.

This man really thought he was above getting pussy drunk until he hooked up with you. Now he realizes he’s is Not. At. All immune to it, and is actually quite prone to it!

Ultimately, his goal is to marry you after graduation, even though his fraternity brothers are highly against it. Not because they don’t like you, quite the contrary, they love you! But they all know that marrying your first love probably isn’t the move, and that the two of you have a lot of problems to work through. They want him to at least wait a few years before popping the question.

Still, every once in awhile he catches himself looking at rings and day dreaming about the future.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #frat boy sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #frat boy! Sukuna x reader

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themoonlitsojourner · 25 days ago

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It was summer 1992, terrible and humid, humid because Florida, terrible because Grant wasn't coming home this year.

It was ten in the morning when the car pulled up.

The neighbor's dog started barking and Joey looked up, startled, the pencil slipping from his fingers and clattering to the hardwood.

The car was black, big, and sleek. A girl about his age was leaping out, blonde hair whipping in the wind. The driver was invisible from this angle.

Something grabbed Joey's feet in that moment. Something in his chest, something in his heart, a whisper of premonition.

No specific thoughts. No conscious understanding, just his feet pounding down the stairs and a dawning certainty blooming bright yellow and warm in his lungs.

His mother called his name as he flung open the door. The girl was leaning back into the passenger window, shouldering a backpack and arguing.

"I know, I know, you've said it a million times, I get it."

She straightened, rolling her eyes. And then she saw Joey.

"Hey."

A mini salute, and combat boots, and flannel, but the other car door was opening and Joey's attention leapt with his heart.

Stepping out onto the street

--tall and regal and silver and strong

was his father.

Joey's face hurt from smiling. He lifted his hand then dropped it, thought about running into his father's arms, then decided to wait. Vibrating around a single point in space, a single point in time.

His father rounded the back of the car and stopped. He looked Joey up and down, and Joey stood up taller, and his father smiled.

"You've grown."

Yes.

Then the spell was broken and he was running. His father's heart beat firm and steady beneath Joey's ear. His arms felt just how Joey'd remembered. Except Joey was a little taller, now. His head came up nearly to his father's shoulder.

Then his mother was calling his name again. The screen door slammed. She stopped short.

Joey tugged away. Mom, it's-

She lifted her chin. Her arms were folded over her cardigan. "You're early. And unannounced."

She... of course. She already knew.

A smirk lifted Joey's father's mouth. "You would pick those to be the first words you've spoken to me in three years."

In the thick silence spread thin across the distance between them, his mother's shoulders slid down, inch by inch. She shrugged and pivoted on her heel. "You might as well come in."

Triumph lit his father's eye. Someone cleared her throat, and Joey blinked at the strange girl he'd forgotten about.

"Will I get my own room or what?"

"You will." Then, then- his father reached out, and, casual as could be- he ran a hand over her hair.

He didn't even look her way. Eye still focused on the gate leading to their home, it was so second nature. He'd done that a million times.

For three years, Joey has laid awake imagining his father's gruff, loving touch, and his father picked someone to replace him.

...How long? How long before he chose someone else to give his attention? Did- did his father even miss him at all?

"Hey," the girl elbowed his father with a whisper, and even that sent pangs of purple envy through Joey's throat. "You didn't mention he was broken." She nodded at Joey.

"Tara." His father looked at him. "Show some civility."

There's an empty room upstairs. His fingers stung like that time he'd been plunged into ice water. It has a nice window. Joey was not a petty or mean person.

His father laid his hand on the girl- Tara's shoulder, and nudged her forward. "Show her."

Joey swallowed his heart and nodded.

"What? What was that?" Stumbling into step beside him, jogging up the stairs to the front door, Tara asked Joey, or his father, or the world. Somehow, it was hard to tell. She stared at Joey's hands.

I-

The most frustrating part was how futile it was. Joey couldn't even explain himself. He checked over his shoulder, knowing the answer but still disappointed when his father was busy unloading the car. Silver hair hanging around his eyepatch, longer than Joey remembered.

They walked through the door his mother left open and Joey snatched his sketchpad from the entryway table.

It's American sign language.

Her eyes flew to his, still leaning over the sketchpad, a little too close. "Teach me."

His eyebrows flew together and he was lifting his shoulders and palms before he thought about it. What?

Tara shrugged too. Joey guessed she didn't really need to know sign language to understand his reaction. "Teach me," she repeated, still clearly a command, though her tone was less bossy. "You can't speak English, so teach me your language."

It's not my-

He grabbed the sketchpad.

'It's not my language,' he wrote. 'And I can speak English, I just can't'

...He just couldn't speak.

Joey let the sketchpad fall back to the table in defeat.

"Well?" When he looked back up, Tara had her fists on her hips, chin lifted like she was taking his attention back. "Are you gonna teach me or not? What's your name?"

He traced the letters in the air.

"Joey? Well, are you?"

It was the summer of 1992. Grant wouldn't be home. Aside from his paints, and pencils, and piano, Joey had nothing else to do and no one to do it with.

He shrugged and nodded.

Sure.

#eeehhhhhhh #theyre so babey im gonna cry #teen titans #tara markov #shes soooo sassy here lol #joseph wilson #joey wilson #terra #terra dc #terra teen titans #jericho #jericho dc #terricho #jeriterra #fanfiction #flash fiction #mine #summer 1992

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g-girlshavingfun · 4 days ago

Text

December Prompts

20) Old friends - Joe & Catherine

A decade before the events of LYKY, Catherine needs help with her son and knows just who to go to. (2,367)

———————————————————————

“Joseph Solomon as I live and breathe.” The sound of his name almost made Joe jump. Almost. Instead, recognising the voice as one belonging to an old friend, he calmly turned to face them. “What a coincidence.”

The voice belonged to a woman he knew from a lifetime ago, a woman he knew when he was just an arrogant ill-informed boy obsessed with seeking out a purpose in this life. She was younger than him, newer to the organisation they both tried to forge a home in, but she was always smarter than him, more dedicated to their cause. Joe had drifted away from that cause now, a purpose and a home and a family being handed to him all in one by a man who still stuck around after seeing the absolute worse in him. Once upon a time he thought that this woman could offer that for him, thought that maybe he could grant it to her, but as time passed she grew colder as he grew more disillusioned, the two of them becoming versions of themselves who had to drift further away from each other in order to survive. Still, in his loneliest moments he misses the girl he once knew, the future he once imagined building with her.

“Nothing’s a coincidence with you Catherine.”

She looked different. Her face was older than it had been, more weathered by time and stress and pain. Hair darker, no longer a bright ginger but instead a fiery maroon, it still fell in tight curls around her unblemished face. Jaw tight and muscles weary, she now carried herself like a woman in peril rather than a girl on the cusp of freedom. What little innocence used to shine in her features had fizzled out, the darkness radiating from her now seeping from her eyes and tarnishing the air around her. She was as stunning as she had been nearly a decade ago, when Joe could hardly go a day seeing her without slamming her into a wall and ripping her clothes off.

Joe was older now, different, and so was she.

They walked out of the mall side by side, Joe holding tight to the bag housing the candles he had just bought Rachel for Christmas, Catherine with empty hands and an energetic bounce to her step. Shooting him a coy smile at his words, she linked one of her arms through his, tugging him away from where his bike was parked and towards the nearest bus stop.

“They look fancy,” She nodded towards the bag in his hand, a teasing grin dancing across her features as she jostled his arm, “Got yourself a new girlfriend to spoil?”

He was quick with his reply. “She’s just a friend.” Not wanting to ruminate on why the words elicited a sharp pang in his chest, not wanting to discuss Rachel with this woman, not wanting to muddle his two lives more than they already have been, he quickly changed the subject. “Gonna tell me where we’re headed?”

“Hmm denial denial denial Joey!” Her words were a song, dancing across her tongue with a wicked laugh. Still, she shook her head and uncharacteristically accepted the change in topic. “You’re just going to have to trust me today Joe, think you can do that?”

No. Probably not.

Joe didn’t trust easy. It was an essential skill to his survival in the world of espionage, knowing when to trust someone, knowing when not to, and most importantly knowing that the latter is far more common than the former. In his career as an operative, he has learned to trust very few people. Matt, whose earnest support and unparalleled good heart had generated a loyal bond between the two of them that Joe knew nothing could break. Rachel, whose refreshingly brutal honesty and unfailing reliability made her his go to agent when he needed an experienced partner on a case or a friend to vent to. Abby, maybe, who was new to the agency but certainly not the industry, who dove headfirst into assignments reluctantly supervised by him, who took care to go back for Joe after an extraction went wrong when any other new recruit would’ve high-tailed it home at the first sign of trouble. Honestly, the list ended there.

Once upon a time, maybe he could’ve trusted Catherine. Could’ve trusted that even when her words were thick and sweet with lies, that at least her intentions matched up with his. That wasn’t true anymore, although perhaps that was his fault. Perhaps he was the only one of them that changed.

It was only a moment, so brief he barley saw it, wouldn’t have recognised it for what it was if a thousand years ago he hadn’t known her like he knows his own skin, but a flicker of hurt danced across her eyes at his hesitance. He averted his gaze from her’s as a bus approached them, something like grief tugging at his gut as they both began to realise that the friendship they cultivated over a decade ago had not survived the test of time.

“I need your help with something, that’s all.”

“Very vague.”

“It’s not work related.” That was a surprise. If it wasn’t work related, then it had something to do with her personal life, and as far as Joe was aware she hadn’t kept one of those since him. “Are you coming or not?”

She had already stepped onto the bus, half turned towards him with a cocked hip. One hand was held out to him, and she wiggled her fingers invitingly, a smirk spreading across her face. For a moment, she reminded him of the adventurous girl he once knew. For a briefer moment, she reminded him of the pair of sisters he knew now, her playful flirtations reminiscent of Abby while her assured confidence bore a slight resemblance to Rachel. It reminded him that they all went to the same school, would’ve been taught by the same people, had the same introduction to the world of espionage as one another. Then an impatient flicker of impatient anger danced across her features, face contorting into a tense glare as he continued to stall, and he knew that this woman was nothing like Matt’s girls, was potentially nothing like the Catherine he once knew. He wondered what had changed in the last few years to make that true.

It was his curiosity more than anything else that led him to take her hand and follow her onto the bus, humouring her as she entangled their fingers together and lay her head on his shoulder when they took a seat. She giggled into his neck, lips pressed gently to his skin. It was a humbling moment when he realised he didn’t know if she was acting this way as part of a cover, to get on his nerves, or to genuinely flirt with him. For Rachel it would only ever be the former and Abby never truly flirted with him except to tease, but with this new version of Catherine he wasn’t sure.

Somewhere along the way, he started to understand the Cameron sisters, the family Matt found for him, far better than the family he tried to make himself in The Circle.

They stayed silent for their first bus journey, and for their second. Not a word was uttered between them as they took a taxi to the waterfront of a seemingly deserted lake. Even as she slowly rowed them out to a small island hidden behind the tree line, they did not speak.

No one knew where they were, who he was with. If she wanted to dispose of him, to kill him, she could do so easily without anyone being the wiser for it. Matt would never know what happened to him. Had the situation been reversed, Joe would’ve called Matt a simpering fool.

One hand clasped tight around the handle of the bag, the other gently resting on the grip of his concealed gun, he followed her into a small house hidden around the base of a small hill. Cold crept into his bones, the old walls carrying a chill with them that wouldn’t leave him. A dark gloom followed them as they made their way upstairs, the howling of the wind outside drowning out the wails of the old pipes. He shivered. The oppressive dark and cold reminded him of his childhood homes, the foster parents who wouldn’t spring for heating or furniture or Christmas decorations for the kids in their care. It reminded him of Blackthorn, of its stone walls and echoing halls. Of damp clinging to his clothes and loneliness sticking to his skin. It reminded him of the apartment he stayed in before moving in with Matt, bare except the essentials and stripped of any love whatsoever. His body tensed. He didn’t like it here.

Catherine escorted him through a rotting door, a sloppy Z carved into the old wood, and what he saw on the other side made his breath catch.

Curled up on a small bed was a young boy. Damp dark curls were plastered to his forehead, skin dripping in sweat. He was pale, with cheeks flushed red from a fever, and he was gaunt, eyes and cheekbones protruding from his face. Shivers wreaked through his little frame, dark eyes looking up at him helplessly. Joe hadn’t met many young children, they freaked him out if he was honest, but he had seen plenty of pictures of Matt and Rachel’s little girl, enough to know that this wasn’t what a healthy child looked like.

Still, there was a more pressing question on his mind, a more urgent concern than the welfare of the boy who looked remarkably like Catherine. “Umm. How old is he?”

“For fuck’s sake you’re fine. He’s not even six yet.” She rolled her eyes at him, moving to sit next to the boy and run a hand through his damp hair. Joe breathed a subtle sigh of relief, it had been more than eight years since he had even seen the woman, let alone anything else, the kid couldn’t be his. “Zachy, this is Mommy’s friend Joe, say hi.”

The child, Zach, he presumed, whispered a small greeting at him before his chest erupted in coughs. Catherine ran her hand down her son’s back soothingly, humming some old tune that he didn’t recognise. She was biting her lip. She looked nervous. Joe didn’t know she could look like that.

“Is he… okay?” His obsolete question was met by another round of coughing from the child and a glare from the woman perched beside him.

Catherine’s tone was sharp as she snapped at him, dark eyes piercing through him. “Clearly not, he’s sick.” Swallowing against a lump in her throat, her voice dropped to a reluctant pleading whisper, features wide in the dark bedroom. “I need you to help him.”

“I- I’m not a doctor Cat.”

“Don’t call me that!” Tone enraged now, he felt fire burning through his skull from the heat of her glare. Her breathing was heavy as he mumbled an apology, nostrils flaring as she collected herself enough to command him. “I need you to take him to one.”

“Why can’t you-”

“I can’t go to a doctor’s office or a hospital Joe, the CIA would be onto me the second I walked through the door.” Joe tried to imagine Rachel refusing to take her daughter to the doctors out of concern for her own safety, tried to imagine her ever putting herself before the little girl. He came up short. “I had him here, on the sofa downstairs with a mute Hungarian midwife helping me.” He made a note to himself not to sit on that sofa, to ask Matt to look into any Hungarian missing people for a midwife who disappeared six or so years ago. “He’s never seen a doctor, never needed any medical care that I couldn’t give him. But this- I- I’ve tried but… I can’t fix him.” Confusion and cold shock bled through his veins for a moment, the raw emotion in her eyes and the crack in her voice catching him completely off guard. Catherine had developed a fondness for him during their friendship, but he had never seen the woman look as she did now. Scared. Desperate. Pleading. The face of someone with someone to lose, someone they love.

“Can’t his father-”

“His father is a useless arrogant bastard who’s going nowhere near my boy.” Once again, Joe couldn’t tell if the wide eyed look she gave him, the slight pout, the tremble of her lips, was real or a manipulation. He could never be certain with her. “Please Joe. I need you.”

He looked away from her, thinking that it would be much easier to say no if he wasn’t staring at the shell of a woman he once thought he could love. Big mistake. Instead, he caught the eye of the small boy shivering in his bed, a carbon copy of his mother’s wide eyes looking up at him from beneath a mountain of blankets. Joe remembered being nearly this young, plagued by sickness over the Christmas period, his foster mother at the time largely unconcerned and preoccupied with the others in her care. He remembered how scared he felt, how alone. Again, his thoughts drifted to the Morgan family, imagined the reactions of his best friends if he turned away from this child now.

He sighed, sometimes he thinks he should’ve ran away from Matthew Morgan and his good heart the first chance he got. Other times he thinks maybe that good heart saved him, gave him something other than greed and ambition and selfishness to live for.

He wasn’t sure which time this was.

“Okay, I’ll take him.’

Catherine threw herself into his arms as soon as he started nodding in assent, breathed a thank you into his neck, pressed a cold kiss to the stubble on his cheek. Over her shoulder, he saw Zach give him a small, tearful smile and felt something skip in his chest.

If Matt could see him now.

———————————————————————

Authors note:

Calling this a friendship thing rather than romantic, but I’m thinking they had a brief moment of something more when they were both young, long before any of the kids existed. If, when reading the pieces with Catherine in, she comes across very different in each, that was intentional. Both to represent how different people see her, and to show how she may have progressively deteriorated throughout her + Zach’s life.

Hope everyone has a good Christmas if you celebrate, and just a good day if you don’t, hopefully the next one will be done on Boxing Day!

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fanfiction #december prompts #writing prompts #joseph solomon #Joe Solomon #catherine goode #joe’s the dad that stepped up

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amazingferret · 1 year ago

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"Who... are you?" the young man mustered his eyes open, giving the child jostling him awake an annoyed bleary stare, utterly devoid of recognition.

The spell seems to have taken. Good.

"Listen, you don't know me," Mokuba paused to swallow a pang of pain. "But you gotta trust me. Some people are coming to kill you tonight. You need to get dressed and GO."

The young man made some sounds of protest, but the way the kid clung to him, trying to wrestle him out of bed, told him he should at least entertain the thought.

The child's story proved not to be a lie when soon after they were being chased down a corridor.

---

"Go that way. Keep going until you see no more snow. Or until your wings give out, and then walk the rest of the way down to the border. Whatever you do, just go as far away from here as you can!"

We can no longer do anything about them, Seto, not if they are willing to go this far. Please go. Forget all this. Forget me. I'll take care of everything. You've done so much already... I just want you to stay alive...

---

"Myosotis."

"What?"

"You told me to pick a name, so there you have it."

Joey stared at the man with a vacant look. What was he not getting?

"I did tell you I liked your sister's nickname better. It's the formal name of forget-me-nots."

"The formal- Why the heck would you- Oh, nevermind, of course a stuffy noble would pick such a mouthful!"

"It's shorter than Sleeping Beauty. But sure, if the word is too long for your vocabulary, I guess you could stick to 'Myo'..." The taller man snorted, continuing his path down the mountain.

"Hey, hey, start gettin' cheeky with me like that and I won't feed you tonight, ya hear!"

The air was soon filled with shouts of "Hey, wait up, Myo!" "Myo, wait!" "Gosh, your legs are a lot longer than mine..." as the duo made their way back.

#yu-gi-oh #the dragons au #extreme card enthusiasts #mokuba kaiba

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jptattooart · 1 year ago

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Paradise X

天堂X

Joey Pang 郭靜

start anew 從『新』開始

HK New Ink Art Association Members' Artworks Exhibition

香港新墨協會第二屆會員作品展

Time:

20 Nov 2023 (Mon) 5:00pm - 7:00pm

21-23 Nov 2023 (Tue-Thu) 11:00am - 7:00pm

24 Nov 2023 (Fri) 11:00am - 5:00pm

Venue:

Hong Kong City Hall (Exhibition Hall)

香港大會堂 (展覽廳)

Fee:

Free Admission

#hk_niaa #startanew #artcube #newinkart #newink

#artexhibition #chinesepainting #modernart

#modernink #fineart #fineartpainting #fineartgallery

#chineseinkart #artpainting #inkart #artistsoninstagram

#asianinkandart #hkart #從新開始 #新水墨

#香港新墨協會 #香港畫展 #畫展 #展覽 #香港藝術

#水墨畫 #藝術家 #現代アート #當代水墨 #현대미술

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avvail-whumps · 1 year ago

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‘guns for hire’ — wants and desires #24

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: mentioned multiple whumpers, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, non-con touching (not really sexual), non-con kissing (on the cheeks), fear and discussion of non-con (not explicit), past torture, past injuries, recovery

Leo was quick to close the door behind him.

The quiet click caused a pang of relief to steady his beating heart, keeping the furious Bran separated from him for now. His eyes flickered back to Roy, who was standing by the window and ruffling a hand through his hair.

It reminded him of the first time he saw him.

In Jacob’s office, firm stance and gun trained at his head. It was all because he’d been stupid enough to corner himself at his desk, instead of hightailing it out of there. Perhaps if he’d ran, or even hidden somewhere the man wouldn’t have been able to find him, he would have never found himself in this horrible predicament.

He wouldn’t have trained mercenaries inflicting torturous pain onto him everyday. He wouldn’t have to deal with the mental strain and the emotional rollercoasters he’d find himself riding on.

He could have been home right now. Calling his father, playing the violin, curling up under his blanket on the couch. Reading trashy newspaper articles and watering his plants.

Leo miserably pressed himself against the door, trying to make himself small. He had seen Roy mad, like the horrible night he’d been caught attempting to escape, but there was something different about his eyes and the tone of voice he’d taken. It shook his nerves, reigniting everything he’d felt when he woke up in the chair in the basement.

He couldn’t forget that Roy was more dangerous than he might ever know.

The man finally let his gaze tear away from the window, and it landed on Leo’s pale, grimacing face instead. He didn’t smile like he’d often been doing.

“Go sit on the bed, lion,” he spoke coldly, and the secretary winced at the command.

He obeyed without question, shuffling over to the other side of the room and setting himself down on the edge of the mattress. The fluffy blanket was soft under his fingertips, gripping the edge and staring at him expectedly, like he was awaiting his next order. Roy approached him slowly, and Leo felt this ominous dread stir under his skin.

The man’s hand came to rest on top of his head, and Leo couldn’t suppress the stiffening of his body and violent flinch. When his fingers began softly threading through his hair, he begrudgingly started to relax.

“I don’t know anymore, lion,” Roy drawled, a disheartened sigh falling from his lips. His eyes were flickering over every little detail of his face. Every new cut, every faded bruise, the washed out paleness and the distinct bags under his eyes. Leo sometimes caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he knew he didn’t look good.

Still, he remained quiet. Roy’s hand shifted under his chin, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

“I don’t think I like it if it isn’t me,” he whispered quietly. Leo tried not to move from his spot, rigid and tense as he glanced up at him through his eyelashes.

“What do you mean?”

His fingers gently traced the assortment of injuries on his skin, smoothing over them with a gentle delicacy.

“All of these,” he hummed, tilting his head. His fingers trailed down his neck, touching the prominent bruises still there. “They’re not from me. So I don’t think I like it.”

Leo felt his hands slipping under his jacket, peeling the fabric off of him smoothly. The action made him jolt, hands twisting into the blanket with a soft gasp.

“Stop, please—”

“Shhh, baby,” the mercenary whispered quietly. His hand pressed against his mouth. “Just be quiet.”

His hand slipped into the collar of his shirt, gently tugging it down to expose his shoulders. Leo shivered under his delicate touch, Roy’s thumb circling the small, rounded scar from the cigarette Joey had put out on him. His skin jumped under each caress and each stroke of his body, his soft little whimpers muffled by Roy’s hand.

Leo endured the painstaking act for each minute, before Roy’s hand shifted and clenched his jaw tightly instead, fingers digging into the flesh. He tugged him forward abruptly, causing him to throw his hands out to catch himself against his chest.

“I like seeing you in pain,” he hummed, his brows furrowing subtly. His fingers squashed his cheeks, forcibly pursing his lips. “But what’s the point if it’s not me?”

Leo felt tears running down his cheeks before he could stop himself. A scared keening sound choked in his throat as his trembling fingers gripped Roy’s shirt, the position craning his neck and pulling the sensitive, bruised skin taut. The mercenary made a soft cooing sound, and released the bruising grip on his jaw. Leo sucked in a shaking breath, shuddering on quiet sobs. He didn’t fight when Roy’s hands cupped the sides of his head, and leaned forward to kiss the tears away.

“I-I wanna go home,” Leo pleaded, shivering at the absence of the jacket and the provocative way his shirt was hanging off his shoulders. The man’s lips fluttering across his face as his fingers tangled in his hair.

“None of that, lion,” he warned against his skin, the puffs of air making Leo shudder. “But, fuck. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

Leo’s stomach sank when he was shoved onto the bed, pinned down by Roy’s hand pressing down on his chest. His recovering ribs almost screamed out at the pressure, somewhat relieved that the mattress was soft enough to support his head. His hands skittered against his chest as the man followed, one knee supporting his weight on the bed and the other remaining planted on the ground, but trapping Leo’s own.

A terrified thought entered his mind.

“No,” he whispered frantically, his hands surging forwards and attaching themselves to his shoulders in a vice grip. “No, no, no, please.”

“Why?” Roy hummed under his breath. His voice reached those low baritones that were swimming with all kinds of implications Leo didn’t even want to think about. There was a devilish smirk on his face. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

Roy had said he wouldn’t do that. He said that he didn’t have to worry about it, but the moment his hands wrapped around his thin wrists and slid them above his head, Leo was stricken by panic. His legs were pinned underneath Roy’s own, but that didn’t stop him from kicking and thrashing and throwing himself into pleading screams and shouts.

“Please, Roy, please!” He sobbed, twisting his wrists under his scrutinizing grasp. It did nothing to deter his strength; Leo hadn’t even been able to fight him off when he was healthy, so rationally, he knew it would be useless to even try like this. Unfortunately, that rationality was out of the question.

“Please?” Roy hummed coyly.

Leo frantically shook his head from side to side, ignoring the crushing pain keeping him pinned to the bed, too worked up to care. He choked on a violent sob, wriggling desperately.

“Y-You said you didn’t want to, please…”

“No, lion,” he drawled. His eyes seemed to glimmer. “I do want to. But not like this. I just wanted to see you squirm again.”

He let go of his wrists, and climbed off the bed. Leo scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall, biting back a pained hiss. He tried to calm down the panicked stutter of his breath, but it was impossible over the shuddering, uncontrollable sobs seizing in his chest. He was probably a pretty picture to paint with his clothes hanging off his body and his disheveled hair, but he couldn’t care. Roy seemed to be in a better mood than he did after dealing with Bran’s accident. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not.

“Go and clean yourself up for the night, lion,” the man ordered, amused smile dancing on his lips. “And don’t let anybody see you like that.”

His petrified eyes watched him go like a hawk, only sinking back against the wall when the door closed shut behind him, and he was left alone in his room. He pressed his hands into his face and felt the tears trickling down his cheeks, curling up in himself in a shivering ball. All of those horrible memories resurfaced, making the hairs on this skin prick up.

Leo raked his nails along his scalp, burying his face into his knees. He didn’t know how long he could endure this for. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. He just wanted to feel safe again, hating himself for being so torn towards Roy’s plethora of different personalities. He didn’t want him to be like the other mercenaries. He preferred it when he was nice, and he was kind, and he held him contently instead of when he was kicking and screaming. He wanted to have a normal conversation with Roy again, because when was the last time he’d had anything of the sort?

Leo pulled the blanket over his head, tucking himself pathetically in the corner of the bed against the wall.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dream of blue skies and clouds again.

In the morning, he hobbled into the bathroom to have a shower. The bathrooms were the only places he could freely go that had a lock, so he slid it quickly into place and released a shuddering sigh once he was finally alone.

He wiped away the sweat and tears that had built up on his face during the night with relaxing warm water, stripping himself down and hopping into a lukewarm shower. He didn’t stay in for long, fearing his injuries would grow worse when wet, and so dried himself off and found himself feeling somewhat calmer.

He slipped into some new clothes and donned Roy’s jacket. Nobody was downstairs, so he quietly poured himself a bowl of oatmeal with some blueberries and raspberries scattered on the surface, before wordlessly gulping it down. His eyes lazily stared at the metallic spoon, clinking it softly against the bowl in a mindless rhythm.

Leo was tired. He wanted to go home.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235 @whumpasaurus101 @mj-or-say10 @professional-idiocy

#guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump series #whump fic #whump tropes #whump community #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #leo is so adorably pathetic isn't he

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ofbluercses · 3 months ago

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( art by @kneel-to-seto-kaiba )

He wasn't one to do much in celebration for his birthday really. He just wasn't used to it, and in all honesty wasn't entirely sure what exactly to do outside of the seemingly cliche things he had seen in the occasional movie. Birthdays were always sort of a mystery to him, always just another day. Yet he always felt an odd pang in his chest...like he was missing something.

That was why he was surprised when he saw a gift was waiting for him. Tucked carefully next to the outstretched leaves of one of the plants close to his desk. Yomi tilted his head, shutting the door to his office. There weren't many who were allowed up here...well unless someone snuck in he supposed. There was one or two he could think of who might be able to pull that off. His mind wandered, trying to configure who it may be from and why.

His office wasn't large so it did not take long for him to reach where the gift was, his fingers gently tugging at the bow atop the small box. He felt oddly excited, the anticipation of seeing what a gift may be. A feeling he didn't too often experience. Yomi brushed the ribbon aside, moving to lift the box lid.

Inside rested a metallic yoyo, the colors a mixed splash of purple and green. He could feel a smile creep onto his lips before he could even consider what he was actually feeling. Joey left this here. He picked the yoyo up, looking over the ombre color, tilting it to examine it better. This certainly wasn't a low quality one that was for sure.

While he couldn't comprehend the affection that he felt at the sight of the gift, nor why the gesture felt so special, he smiled, the tiredness in his eyes leaving for a brief moment in time and replaced with a quiet joy.

Perhaps he was beginning to understand now...

#{ drabble }#kneel-to-seto-kaiba #late but for yomi's birthday ^^#thank you again for making the art I cry I love it

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tarotoftheendless · 7 months ago

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Forever Waiting: Waiting for Forever 0.5 - Chapter Three

Forever Waiting

Summary:

Willie can't sleep. Sneaks out, goes to town to go to the gig Jules invited him to. What he sees, hears and feels is not something he was prepared for, or even fully understands. Warnings/Tags:

Overall horniness, N S F W. Minors scram. Alcohol consumption. Kink. Fem Domming. Thirsty thoughts. Angst.

Thank you once again to @thoughtsfromlayla for beta-ing, editing and helping with the format. And thank you to @dragon-kazansky for beta-ing and making the Chapter Cards. I love you both so much!

MASTER LIST/FIRST/PREVIOUS/NEXT

Chapter Three: Bitter Sweet Symphony

October 3rd, 2008

Taft, Pennsylvania

10:07pm

Willie’s POV

Sleep is eluding me as I shift onto my side for the fourth time in a row. Joey and Dee had suggested I go to bed early to try to relax, but I am too wired to do so. Today did not go as planned.

Turning on my other side again, my eyes catch sight of the digital clock on the bedside table. Groaning, I throw off my covers. It's still too warm in the evenings for covers anyway.

Playing with the silver chain around my neck nervously, my mind races over what my brother told me. He has never understood me and that has always been a source of disconnect between us. Joey and Jules felt more like siblings to me than Jimbo. At least what I thought siblings should be like.

Watching Jules today with Joey and their playful banter made me both envious for that kind of connection but also a pang of guilt. I had been the one to never reach back out to Jules directly.

After what she said about Emma back on that fateful summer, it felt like my throat had closed up and a wall went up when it came to her. Jules was always so hesitant to share her feelings on things after her and Joey’s mother died, before that she had been so passionate. I almost thought a piece of her died that day, and it was a feeling I could relate to.

Deciding that sleep was not going to come any time soon, I sit up in the bed, running my hand through my hair. Fidgeting for a moment with my leather bracelets around my wrists, my mind is made up. I will go to Jules’ gig. A distraction from my brother’s cruel words and my terror from earlier outside of Emma’s is much needed right now.

Getting out of bed, I try not to hit my head on the very low glass antique flower hanging light. I grab my red and black plaid hoodie out of my duffle and slip on my high-tops, and quickly tie them.

I make sure I have my essentials on me, and then quietly open my door that leads into the hall. Not wanting to disturb the rest of the house, I make the decision to go down to the basement.

It has been years since I have been in Jules’ room. My heart-rate picks up as I turn the doorknob to her room. Maybe she wouldn’t want me in her space when she is not around. Then I think about how she did invite me to her gig, about how I am already late and that I really don’t want to wake the house by going out the front door.

Warm light glows as I open the door. Her room was always so cozy and inviting and that hasn’t changed. The sweet smell of incense fills my nose and with it flooding memories. Immediately my gaze goes to the column of wall that has polaroids all over it.

Stepping towards it, I squat down to see if she kept that picture of us. My breath hitches as I find it and underneath it reads: WD + JS = BFF. We were so young, our smiles goofy. We had been cuddling on a beanbag on the floor, just talking when she had wanted to take a picture of us.

“Would you look at that, she kept it. Even after everything, she kept it. Can you believe that?” I breathe out, knowing they are watching me.

I can’t help but smile at the memory. Joey is my best friend, but Jules always seemed to get me. I always felt seen and heard when it came to Jules. Until that day at the creek. When she hadn’t wanted to talk about Emma anymore that day I had felt a piece of my heart break. Jules had never spoken to me like that before.

Sighing, I stand up fully again and make my way to the side door that leads outside. Briefly my eyes catch that she has the beanbags still, right behind her drum set. That brings a smile back to my face as I open the door, the cool October air gently brushing against my face.

As I begin my walk downtown, my thoughts are filled with a growing panic on how I am going to finally approach Emma.

Will she remember me? Will she return my affections? Even when I had seen Emma in L.A. when I was performing in the park, I had to keep my breathing under control. Fear gripped me today and I worry that Emma will think the same things about me like my brother does.

Am I crazy? Maybe something is wrong with me. I feel normal, though. People like me when they met me, I always am able to make kids smile and laugh. And then there was Joey, Dee and Jules. I know they love me and support me, they always have. They are safe. I feel safe with them.

My mouth turns downward as I remember the summer of 1999, the summer their mother passed. Jules was different, Joey was trying not to be, I could tell. I once caught him crying in his room, and without a word I walked in and pulled him into a hug. Having lost both my parents, there was a deep understanding I had for how Joey felt. He was quieter about it, but Jules had been angry. Her dad and her fought a lot that summer. They tried not to do it in front of me, but I heard some of what was said. One fight ended right after her dad called her by her mom’s name. It had confused me and yet also made tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I didn’t understand what had happened or why Jules had stormed off after that, but I knew something was not right about that.

I pull the hood of my jacket up to cover my ears from the gentle breeze that began to tickle at my ears. It is entirely possible that I should have thought about getting some earplugs as I am realizing that as quiet of a nice night it is outside in my little hometown, going to a bar with loud music might be a bit jarring. Grimacing at the thought of sticking my fingers in my ears once I get in the venue, it begins to register in my brain that might appear to be rude to not only the other pub patrons but also Jules and her band. Insulting her and her music is not something I want to do right after we have seemingly patched things up.

Passing by the bank my brother works at, I see my reflection in the dark front window, the light of a streetlamp illuminating behind me. Trying to fix my seemingly both stunned and blank expression on my face, I pull my hood down and tousle my hair a bit.

Not that I am looking to be noticed by anyone, the one person I would want to notice me isn’t going to be here, but I do at least want to appear to be desirable. Then again, no one has ever told me they have found me attractive, so what do I know? My hope is that once I reconnect with Emma that she will like what she sees. Then I can finally have the happily ever after I have always wanted to have with her.

Working up the courage to leave the very quiet downtown main street, I move forward once again towards the muffled sounds of music and talking. My fingers grasp the pub’s steel door handle, slowly, I open the door and I am met with the sounds of loud music and many people conversing over various kinds of alcoholic beverages.

The pub isn’t very big, the lighting is low and moody, and tonight it is packed and it isn’t hard to see why. On the back wall of this establishment is a stage with lights above it flashing between many colors, and there she is.

Jules is on that stage, electric guitar in hand, singing, almost growling into the mic. She is mesmerizing, almost to the point where I don’t hear the bouncer in front of me asking to see my ID.

Heat rises to my cheeks in embarrassment as I fish my ID out of the pocket of my hoodie. The bouncer takes it from me, looks at it and then back at me, cocks an eyebrow at me that makes me nervous for some reason, but then hands it back.

“She said you might be here, Mr. Donner, please enjoy the show,” says the bouncer as he gestures towards the rest of the space behind him.

Dipping my head down in a small nod, I stride past him, fumbling to put my ID back into my hoodie pocket. There are people everywhere, and my chest starts to tighten, like it had earlier outside of Emma’s house. I want to watch Jules and her melodic singing is like a siren's call, but I need to find a spot that is easier to breathe.

Luckily, I spot an empty stool at the bar when a very ruggedly handsome bartender is mixing drinks. Scooting onto the stool, I shift the seat around so I can watch Jules fully. As my eyes adjust to the lighting and focus past the sea of people, what I see takes my breath away.

Never have I ever seen Jules be the way she is right now on that stage. She is playing her guitar, owning the stage, singing with her bassist while her keyboardist and drummer accompany them in the symphony of sound. The music is harder and more intense than I usually listen to myself, but I like it. It has a nice beat, making my foot bounce in time with the rhythm.

Jules is almost dancing on stage as she sings, her lace-up boots on her fish-netted legs catching in the flashing green, blue then red lights. My eyes travel up and I see the tattoo she alluded to; a worm in black ink with bat-like wings and a bulbous head. Her skirt is short and slitted in a way that has me feeling that maybe I shouldn’t be staring. Moving on from that, my breath catches when I notice the tattoo on her chest; a black inked sun with a face right above her heart.

Confusion settles in me, so much so that I know I can’t hide it from my face. Why would she get a sun tattoo above her heart? Hadn’t Joey always said that I was… and then she was…? Not being able to keep up with her movements on the stage, my eyes then focus on what seems to be dark bruises on her chest, disappearing into her top. A wave of concern for her hits me. Something about that does not feel right. I have no idea what it means, but I feel an emotion bubble in me that doesn’t usually surface; anger. Not at her, but at whoever caused those bruises.

“This cover is so good!” I hear a girl standing off to my left shouts to her friend over the sound of the music. Her friend nods in agreement, bouncing in place on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Smiling, I can’t help but agree. Jules’ very metal synthy cover of ‘You Spin Me Right Round (Like A Record)’ is exceptional. She amazes me, going from singing with her shorter bandmate with the eyebrow piercing and long black hair, to going into a guitar solo to round out the song. It’s no wonder people are dancing. The way her music makes me feel, I want to dance too, but I stay seated on my stool, bouncing my leg to the beat.

She is gorgeous, her teased purple hair flowing around her with each movement she makes. Sweat is clearly beading down her forehead, down her neck and back on to her chest. Despite the confusion of her tattoo and the anger of her bruises, I can’t help but feel a pull of desire when gazing at her. Which brings with it a whole other confusion; Emma.

I love Emma. She has been the girl I have loved since that fateful day, even before that. She had reminded me that my parents would always be there, that they would always love me. Emma had touched my heart when I needed it most. Wasn’t that enough?

Watching Jules finish out the song with a certain flare, it’s almost as if time stopped. Though I was in the back of the bar, her eyes somehow found mine. Surprise paints her facial features, but she swiftly recovers. Winking at me, which makes me blush, her attention quickly moves to the audience.

Letting her guitar hang low from the strap on her shoulder, she grabs the standing mic, bringing her lips to it.

“I hear there’s a 21st birthday going on tonight! Where’s the birthday girl?!” Jules says into the mic, a certain husky sound to her voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

There was a squeal in the crowd near the front by the stage of a girl, who is bouncing up and down, making her way up to the stage in front of Jules. The crowd is cheering on the girl.

The girl is pretty, blonde and in a pink short dress and silver heels that looked painful to wear. “Me! Me! Me! That’d be me!” She shouts with her hands in the air and a spotlight is aimed at her from above as she gets right in front of the stage.

Jules lifts the strap of her guitar over her head, handing it to her bassist, who takes it with an almost knowing smirk on her face. Grabbing the mic out of its stand, Jules kneels down on the stage to get closer to this girl, an almost very flirtatious smile on her face. I blush as I realize that I have seen that smile before and it stuns me.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Jules says into the mic before holding it out for the girl.

“Victoria! My name is Victoria! O! M! G! You are so hot!” The girl, Victoria, expresses with an emotion I can’t place in her voice.

A very low laugh leaves Jules’ lips that makes a strange heat start in my cheeks, it goes down through my chest and settles between my legs. As I feel a dull throb and twitch, I shift uncomfortably on the stool. What is happening right now? This is Jules. Joey’s twin, my best friend. Guilt starts to set in as my mouth begins to salivate in a way I can’t control.

Watching Jules lean down closer towards this Victoria has me on the edge of my seat.

Speaking into the mic, Jules says, “Well, Victoria, we have a bit of a birthday tradition we would love to do with you if you are willing.”

Victoria nods eagerly, her fingers gripping the edge of the stage.

The next couple minutes happen both in slow motion and so quickly. Jules has Victoria brought on stage with her and the band. Someone, one of the bartenders I presume, brings up a can of beer, handing it to Jules. Victoria is a giddy ball of energy on stage standing next to Jules to the point where I am almost jealous. I wish I was closer.

The crowd is watching intently, chattering among themselves as they are eager to see the tradition Jules mentioned earlier. Bringing the mic to her lips again, Jules speaks in a low voice that has me feeling goosebumps forming on my arms under my jacket.

“Well, Victoria, baby girl, I need you on your knees,” Jules croons as she makes eye contact with Victoria. The crowd all seems to hold its breath as they watch Victoria do just that. I also feel as though I can’t breathe, and I have to put my hands over my lap so as to not appear indecent in public. Not being able to control my body is not something I enjoy. First over at Emma’s earlier and now this, but a very different lack of control, has me feeling very confused and uncomfortable.

Jules skillfully opens the can of beer with one hand as she holds the mic with the other. “Now, princess, I need you to open wide, and not spill a drop, can you do that for me?” Jules' voice holds promises of sin and chaos, a seductive combination.

Nodding, Victoria opens her mouth wide and lets her tongue hang out of her mouth. My eyes go wide as that is the longest tongue I have ever seen anyone have. Chuckling, Jules decides to comment on it, “Fuck, baby girl, your girlfriend is one lucky girl indeed!”

Somewhere in the crowd a feminine voice shouts back, “Damn right I am!”

Victoria keeps doing what she is doing, but the stage lights pick up on the pink shade that her cheeks. Jules laughing at the woman’s comment finally makes something click in my head and now I am blushing. My hands push down more firmly down on my pajamas clad lap, both feeling that pleasure shooting through my body and just utter embarrassment. This kind of thing never is on my mind, not even with Emma, so why is Jules making me feel like this? She’s my friend. Just my friend.

Addressing the audience, Jules starts to tip the beer towards Victoria but doesn’t quite tip it fully to start dripping into her waiting mouth. “Should I give it to her? Has she been a good girl?”

The whole crowd, and I as well, shout in response, “Yes!” My voice felt rough as I said it though, almost as if I had swallowed pins and needles.

Turning her full attention towards Victoria, Jules finally tips the beer so a small trickle starts to drip onto her tongue. Victoria eagerly takes it, her hands reaching up to grab onto Jules thighs. Stopping the stream of beer, Jules tisks her. “Now, now, now, hands down princess, I want you to take it all hands free. Can you do that for me?”

Victoria nods again, opening her mouth wider. I feel my own mouth fall open as if mimicking what I am seeing, almost wishing it was me up there instead. Jules tips the can even further this time causing a fuller stream to begin to pour onto Victoria tongue.

“That’s right princess, take it all, drink down real good for me! Oh yeah! That’s right, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You are taking it so good for me, oh baby!” Jules praises Victoria as she brings the beer closer to her lips.

I am so glad no one is paying attention to me right now as I am having a hard time hiding how this is all affecting me. The crowd is cheering them on, in awe of the pure sexual energy that is happening before their eyes.

Tilting the beer up further, she is now making Victoria gulp it down hungrily. “Oh yeah, princess, you’re almost done! That’s right, take it all for me. Oh yeah, be mommy’s little slut, every last drop! Good girl!”

With that Victoria finishes the drink with Jules moaning praise and encouragement. I have to bite my own lip to stop my body reacting more than it already has. I feel out of breath and my hands are struggling to hide what would be very tented pajamas.

Jules looks down at Victoria with an expression of endearment that makes me feel like melting. “Happy birthday, princess. You did such a good job for me.” Jules hands the empty can to her bassist and the crowd is in an uproar, toasting to the stage and taking drinks of their own alcoholic beverages.

In a giddy mess, Victoria gets up from her kneeling position with help from Jules as she takes her hand. Jules whispers something to Victoria which makes her giggle, kiss her cheek. She then skips towards the steps to get down off the stage, and is in the arms of what I would assume is her girlfriend. They kiss passionately and I blush.

Bringing the mic back to her lips, Jules says, “You all enjoying the show?”

The crowd responds with clapping and whistles. I tried to vocally join the revelry but all that came out was a whimper. Heat rises to my cheeks again, though I am not sure it ever left, making me so glad that it is so loud in here that no one hears me.

“We’re gonna take five, get all lubricated for you again, so don’t y’all go anywhere!” Jules announces as she puts the mic back on the mic stand, and begins to walk to get off the stage. Her bandmates all make sure their instruments are secured before following after her.

My chest tightens as I realize she is headed this way, to get drinks from one of the bartenders. My situation hasn’t changed either. Keeping one hand covering my lap, I swivel on my stool, getting the attention of the male bartender.

“Can I get some water please?” I ask, still with an airy sound to my voice. The bartender nods, and grabs a glass, filling it with ice. He grasps a nozzle and pushes a button on it, filling it with water. Sliding it to me, I take it and drink it down quickly, some water dribbling out of the corner of my mouth onto my stubbled chin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, buddy. Jules really is something, isn’t she, eh?” The bartender says to me with a smirk on his face.

Rapidly I nod my head as I finish the water and hand the glass back to him, which he fills again. He chuckles when he hands me it filled again, watching me start to drink that too. I feel my current situation start to go away as the cold water calms me down.

The moment I feel myself start to relax, I hear her voice almost directly next to me, and my back tenses.

“Yo, Dean, babes, shots of Tequila!” Jules says as she slaps the bar counter, The bartender that had spoken to me looked in Jules direction, his smirk widening. Dean turns around to grab a bottle from the medium shelf of the liquor shelf, getting her order taken care of.

She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I dare to look at her. She is barely covered, and yet she is sweating. The very sight of drops of moisture dripping down her forehead makes me feel that very confusing feeling again.

She is playing with her purple hair absentmindedly as she waits for the shots, still not seeing me, humming to the music the DJ decided to put on during her bands’ break.

I take a sip of my water again, hoping the cool water will help dampen whatever feeling is coursing through me. Trying to think of Emma instead, I close my eyes, and my breathing evens out, my heartbeat slowing to normal.

My hope is that when she does notice me that I won’t embarrass myself in front of her. Not only is she making me feel things that are confusing, but she is so much cooler than I ever knew.

Talented, that’s what she is.

I knew she was cool before and I knew she had talent, but like this? Insecurity in my own abilities started to sink in. She was the one that taught me to juggle the summer before 5th grade, I owe everything to Jules with how I make a living. Do I even measure up to her in our friendship?

MASTER LIST/FIRST/PREVIOUS/NEXT

#tom sturridge #tomsturridge #will donner #waiting for forever will donner #waiting for forever #will donner x female reader #will donner x reader #willie pajamas #will donner x oc #tom tuesday #tomstu #thomas sidney jerome sturridge #thomas sturridge #Spotify

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partiallypearl · 2 months ago

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and every tattoo's so intoxicating

As she stares at them, she thinks maybe her next tattoo will be one.

Maybe a lion. Maybe an elf. Maybe, she thinks with a pang in her heart as she remembers how fucking terrified she had been facing it, despite all her training, despite everything she knew, maybe a Burned One.

- or kat’s tattoos and what they mean to her.

a/n: the world might feel like it’s ending right now, but it’s not. we still have good things. we still have hope. and sometimes that is all we can have. i hope this drabble can give you so hope, even if it is very miniscule. 💙

She’s never wanted tattoos before. Honestly. Kat grew up Catholic, and while most of her family is fairly progressive, her being a case in point, she’s fairly sure her grandmother would keel over before ever getting tattoos.

But then Sky, Riven and Luca announce that they plan on getting their division symbol tattooed, and suddenly it becomes a thing for all of them. Something about squad loyalty, about having a part of them all at all times.

Truthfully, Kat thinks it’s cheesy, but then she remembers how her grandfather still has his dog tags from World War I as well as his deceased friends’ dog tags, and she shuts up about it.

So she finds herself in Blackbridge, lying down on the stupid cot, her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through the pain of the needle tracing the small symbol onto the inner part of her elbow.

“You’re doing great Kat.” The artist, this really nice girl named Lily says, and Kat gives her a smile in response.

The others are all also getting tattooed, or have just finished theirs. Sky went first - after all, it was his idea.

“One more stroke.” Lily says, and Kat bites back the urge to make a dirty joke. She opens her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. The walls are covered in different styles of art, varying from little cartoon fairies, most likely renditions from the human world, to drawings of different beasts.

As she stares at them, she thinks maybe her next tattoo will be one.

She shakes her head, eyes tearing up as Lily wipes off the excess ink, and gently presses a cool and damp paper towel against the tattoo, a smile on her face. “You did great Kat. Joey will give you everything you need for the aftercare. I’ll let you lie down for a bit so you don’t pass out when you get up.”

With that, the redhead is gone, and Kat’s left to lie down by herself, her eyes trailing to her right arm. She can see the tattoo from here, the stark contrast between her pale skin and the dark lines of the tattoo.

The tattoo aches as she eventually shifts into a sitting position and she grimaces through the pain, suddenly grateful that she has horrible periods.

Truthfully this pain is nothing compared to them, and she wonders how the hell Sky and Riven are fairing.

One look to her right gives her, her answer. Sky is leaning against the wall, already nursing his flask of whisky. Kat rolls her eyes, getting up and walking towards him.

“Is drinking after a tattoo advised?” She quips, and Sky glares at her. “No. Is being annoying advised?” He fires back.

Kat snorts, stealing the flask from him. She takes a sip, wincing at the bitterness of alcohol. “When have I ever listened to anything we’ve been advised to do?” She asks him, and Sky, smartly, doesn’t respond.

The tattoo becomes something Kat gets used to after a while. It’s small, the size of a 25 cent coin, and she finds herself wearing more and more sleeveless shirts so she can rub her fingers against the lines.

It’s a sunburst, a small circle with varying lengths of lines extending out from it. When she’s anxious, she finds herself tracing it.

If it wasn’t permanently etched into her skin, she thinks she would have rubbed it off. She’s good at the upkeep though, and so it still looks pretty fresh, even three months after getting it.

Honestly, she forgets about it most of the time. It’s just there. Another part of her body in the same way her freckles or the piercings in her ears are.

She’s so used to it, she barely recognizes it as being hers until Terra points it out.

They are hanging out in the Winx suite, Kat struggling through her History of Magic & Warfare homework, while Terra sits on the couch, watching something on her phone.

Kat sighs, staring down at the words on the page, before deciding to throw her hair up, so she can’t feel it against her neck. She’s halfway through doing so, when Terra looks over at her, and she gasps.

“What?” Kat asks, her arms still extended, one hand buried in her mess of hair, trying to smush it into something manageable that will sit under her elastic band, the other holding the aforementioned elastic band wide enough that she could reasonably stuff her hair under.

“When did you get that?” Terra asks. Kat pauses for a moment, confused, before she catches a glimpse of her tattoo through the corner of her eye and she realizes what Terra’s talking about.

“Oh.” She says, finally managing to get her hair up. She relaxes after it’s out of her way. “Like three months ago.” She says in response to Terra’s question.

“Three months ago?” The plus size girl asks, and Kat nods, her attention back to her stupid essay. She could probably call her grandfather and ask him about how magic was used in the first two world wars, she thinks to herself.

“You got a tattoo three months ago?” Terra asks incredulously. “And I just noticed today?”

Kat shrugs. “Yeah. I mean. I have been wearing longer sleeves lately. It’s cold outside.” Terra gives her a flat look, and Kat shuts up.

They sat in silence for a moment before Terra spoke. “Can I?”

“Can you what?” Kat asks, and she follows Terra’s eyes down to her arm. “Oh. Yeah, you can touch it hun.”

Terra crosses the room, her socked feet thudding against the hardwood floors as she makes her way over. She kneels down beside Kat, her fingers gently beginning to trace the skin. “Did it hurt?” She asks.

Kat snorts. “Like a bitch. But I pulled through obviously.”

Terra shakes her head. “You’re so silly.” Kat gives her a grin. She watches as Terra’s fingers continue tracing the tattoo. She shivers at the feeling. Terra’s fingers are warm and delicate despite the thick calluses on them from years of gardening and hard work.

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo.” Terra mumbles, and Kat raises an eyebrow at her.

“Really Harvey?” She asks. Terra nods, pulling away. For a moment, Kat wishes she wouldn’t. She doesn’t voice this thought though.

“I wanted a dahlia. For my maternal grandmother. She died when I was two. Sam has a lot more memories of her than I do.” Kat nods, her breath caught in her throat. Terra holds her cards to her chest.

They’ve been going out, or whatever this is, for almost two months now. And there’s still so much about Terra that Kat doesn’t know.

“That sounds really sweet love.” Kat says, and Terra looks at her, a soft smile on her face. “Yeah,” Terra says, sitting down beside Kat, “I think she would agree.”

They fall into comfortable silence. Kat looks back down at her textbook before back at Terra. She bites down on her lip.

“Tell me more. About the tattoos you want.” She watches as Terra’s eyes light up. The blonde begins to talk, her hands flapping in excitement and Kat grins as she abandons her textbook, her eyes and focus completely on the girl who has stolen her heart.

Getting this tattoo might have been her best choice yet.

It’s raining when Terra wakes up. Proper rain, not the spitty shit they’ve been getting for the last two days. Rain that is falling hard enough that she can hear the drops against the windows.

She opens her bleary eyes, scanning the room before she realizes that she’s alone.

Kat must have gone in for an early shift. Terra sighs, sitting up properly so that she can grab at her phone and turn it on.

It’s 9:30AM. Not the latest she’s slept in lately, but still not entirely early. She sits there, staring at her lockscreen, her and Kat on their recent 8th year anniversary, until she hears the tell tale sound of Theo.

Tiny feet pattering against the ground. Overly excited breaths. She does her best to hold back the laugh she feels bubbling up. Within seconds, she sees the bedroom door being pushed open, and there’s the sound of those little footsteps and suddenly a little body is crawling up her bed and she sees a tiny face beside her.

“Hi.” She says softly, and Theo giggles at her. “Hi Mumma.” It’s startling sometimes, how much he looks like a perfect combination of her and Kat. He has Kat’s eyes and her nose, but his chubby cheeks and overall demeanour is entirely Terra’s.

“Did you sleep well?” She asks, and he nods. “I had a dream about dinosaurs.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! They were so cool Mumma.” His eyes sparkle with excitement and this time, the laugh does bubble out. Her son has spent the last two months being obsessed with anything and everything dinosaur related. It’s adorable.

The other day, he asked if she was a terrasaurous. And he was genuinely utterly crushed when she said she wasn’t. Kat had let him spend the rest of the evening drawing dinosaurs on every piece of paper he got his hands onto.

She spoils him crazy. Not that Terra’s any better.

“C’mon Mumma. We have to get up.” Theo’s chubby little hands poke at her face, and Terra snorts. For a two year old, he’s very demanding.

But it’s fitting. After all, he is her kid.

“Okay. Alright I’m coming.” She says, watching as he shimmies off the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. He scurries out of the bedroom, and Terra toddles after him.

The downstairs is quiet as she follows her son, who slides his socked feet on the ground. The rain is still audibly pouring. Theo demands that she move faster, and she rolls her eyes at him goodnaturedly before complying.

They are halfway through making breakfast, Terra handling the actual cooking part, and Theo just sitting at the table and looking cute, when the front door opens. “Ter?” Kat’s voice calls from the utility room.

“Yeah! In the kitchen.” She calls back, and she can hear her wife shuffling around. The sound of footsteps plus Theo’s excited giggles make her look up.

“Hi baby. How’s my favourite boy?” Kat asks, pressing kisses against every corner of Theo’s face that she can reach. Terra snorts. Theo squirms, giggling as he tries and fails to push his other mother off. Finally, Kat relents.

She makes her way over to Terra, pressing a quick kiss against her forehead and another kiss against her lips. “Hi Beauty.”

“Hi.” Terra says, flipping the bacon with one hand. She steps back just as the grease pops, and Kat slides in beside her.

“How’s the nausea?” Kat asks, and Terra sighs. “Better than yesterday. Doesn’t seem as bad this time around.” Kat nods, smiling at Terra. She places her hand on Terra’s stomach.

She leans down, pressing her ear against her belly. “Hey. I know it’s early still, but be a bit nicer to your mum please. I have to deal with her whining when you aren’t.” Kat winks at Terra, pressing a kiss against her clothed stomach. Terra snorts, rolling her eyes at her wife’s shenanigans. It’s still too early for the baby to really hear them.

Nonetheless, Kat likes to keep talking to it. Her reasoning? Theo knew her voice, so surely this one will as well.

“Mumma.” Theo says, glaring at the two of them. “Bacon!” He cries. Kat raises an eyebrow at him, and he pouts. “Please.” He adds, and Kat smiles, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and tossing a few pieces onto it before handing it to him.

“It’s still hot baby. You gotta wait.” Theo nods, his fingers resting on the side of the plate.

Terra’s eyes look around the room, that warm feeling in her chest returning. She loves these days. The ones where they get to just be together. She looks at her family and she feels this overwhelming sense of just pure happiness.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kat push up her sweatshirt sleeve, and she sees cling film wrapped around her wife’s upper arm.

“What on earth?” She begins, reaching for Kat’s arm as she turns the heat on the stove off with the other. Kat looks at her surprised. “Oh. Yeah. I got another tat.”

Terra raises an eyebrow. “What?” Kat nods, pulling her sleeve up fully so Terra can see the new ink. And as soon as she does, her breath catches in her throat.

It’s a tattoo of four little dinosaurs chewing on a small patch of grass - the dinosaurs are a family of triceratops, her fact filled brain reminds her. Each one is colour coded. Kat’s is shaded in light blue, Terra’s green, Theo’s, a soft purple. The fourth is simply outlined in black ink.

“I figured I should wait until they have a favourite colour before I get shading done inside.” Kat says. Terra’s eyes spring up with tears. She could blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but she knows damn well that's not the case.

“I love it.” She mumbles; and Kat grins.

“Hoped you would.”

Her wife looks at her with so much joy and love and Terra wonders how she ever doubted that she’d get the chance to be this happy.

She leans in, her hands cupping Kat’s cheeks as she kisses her, the smell of Kat’s lemon scented body spray enveloping her.

Theo giggles in the background, and the rain continues falling down as she sinks into the kiss, and the feeling of just utter joy.

They pull apart, and Terra looks at Kat, a wide grin on her face. “I love you.” She says, and Kat grins back at her.

“I love you too.”

#fate the winx saga #ftws #terra harvey #kat ftws #kat x terra #winxsource #wlwsource #i am ignoring my genuine sense of eternal dread by writing lesbian fanfic!!!’#*mine #*mine: fanfic #my writing #katerra

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