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oaksgrove · 3 days ago

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Midnight Cravings.

pairing: Husband!John Price x Pregnant!Reader

synopsis: When a midnight craving strikes, John Price doesn’t hesitate to throw on a sweater and slippers to make sure his wife gets exactly what she wants.

warnings: Pure fluff, pregnancy cravings, devoted husband Price, excessive tenderness, and a very serious approach to fast-food missions.

word count: 833

The clock on the bedside table glowed with unforgiving numbers—2:37 a.m. John Price groaned softly, shifting beneath the covers, barely clinging to sleep when he felt a gentle nudge at his shoulder.

“John.”

Your voice was a soft whisper in the dark, hesitant but insistent. His instincts kicked in before his brain fully caught up—his warm, calloused hand immediately found your thigh beneath the blankets, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice was thick with sleep, but concern edged through.

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting against your growing belly. “I… I think I need a McChicken. With extra bacon.”

For a moment, silence settled over the room. Then, a soft chuckle rumbled from John’s chest, deep and affectionate.

“Now?” he asked, voice still heavy with sleep, but his feet were already shifting, instinctively preparing to move.

“Now,” you confirmed, looking a little sheepish, but your resolve was firm. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. I swear I can taste it.”

John groaned dramatically but was already throwing off the covers, running a hand over his face before swinging his legs out of bed.

“You’re lucky I’d do anything for you,” he muttered, reaching for his sweater.

You watched him, grinning as he pulled it over his head. His mussed-up hair stuck out in places, and the sight of your rugged, battle-hardened husband looking slightly disoriented in sleepwear and dedication made your heart swell.

“You’re amazing,” you said as you slipped into one of his oversized hoodies.

John huffed, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you fed before you start listing my other good qualities.”

You smirked, following him out into the cold night. Little did he know—you had a whole list.

The car ride was peaceful, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional quiet laugh. You rested your head against the window, watching the empty streets roll past.

John’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, his thumb idly stroking along your knee as he drove.

“You look like a bear,” you teased, eyeing his comfy sweater and slippers combo.

He shot you a sidelong glance, smirking. “A bear who’s about to hunt down a McChicken for his missus.”

You giggled, shifting closer to him. “My hero.”

He squeezed your thigh. “Damn right.”

At the drive-thru, John placed the order with military precision.

“McChicken with extra bacon,” he said firmly, as if coordinating an extraction.

The teenager at the speaker sounded amused. “And anything else?”

John turned to you, brows raised. “Fries? Milkshake?”

You nodded eagerly. “Fries and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

He relayed the request without hesitation, his voice calm and confident—as if this was the most important mission he’d ever undertaken.

When the bag was handed over, he gave a satisfied grunt, inspecting the contents like a seasoned professional. “There we go. Operation McChicken is a success.”

Parked beneath the glow of the McDonald’s sign, you curled up in the passenger seat, unwrapping your treasure. The first bite had you sighing in satisfaction.

John watched you, amused but utterly enamored, the warm glow of the dashboard lights flickering across his face.

“This,” you said between bites, your voice full of bliss, “is exactly what I needed.”

John leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“Anything for you, love.” He reached over, placing a warm hand over yours on your belly. “And for the little one.”

Your breath caught slightly, overwhelmed by how easily he melted you with just a few words.

You turned your hand in his, squeezing gently. “You’re going to be such a good dad, you know that?”

His smile faltered just a fraction, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

“Hope so,” he murmured. “I mean to be.”

The depth of emotion in his voice made your chest ache. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled jaw.

“You will be,” you whispered against his skin. “The best.”

John let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on you, grounding himself in your touch.

For a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you, a bag of midnight fast food, a shared secret of anticipation, and the warmth of knowing that no matter what came next—you’d never have to face it alone.

As he started the car, he smirked. “Think we’ll be doing more of these midnight runs?”

You licked some sauce off your thumb, grinning. “Oh, definitely. Next time? Hot fudge sundae.”

John chuckled, shaking his head as he backed out of the lot.

“Christ, I’ve created a monster.”

You rested a hand on his arm, tracing absent patterns over his sleeve. “Yeah, but she’s your monster.”

John huffed a laugh, bringing your hand to his lips for a slow, lingering kiss.

“And I love her for it,” he murmured.

As you drove home together, his fingers laced through yours, you knew one thing for certain—this wouldn’t be the last time.

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honeyncherry · 16 hours ago

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we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin.

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home.

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on.

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours.

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise.

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think.

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck."

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control.

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x you

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brie-is-cheesy · 3 days ago

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I love you... Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.

Pairing: Sylus × Reader

Word count: 1679 or 1.6k words

Warnings: slight angst to smut and a little fluff, fingering, oral sex(fem receiving), dry humping(sort of), Sylus is shot, reader is not mc

Your head snapped to your phone as it started vibrating violently.

“Hello?” Pressing ‘accept,’ you brought the device to your ear.

“Y/N…” A familiar drawl on the other side caused you to sigh.

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off.”

“C’mon, N/n. I promise this is the last time,” he said, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“That’s what you said the last three times. And I’m busy,” you stated but grabbed your keys anyway.

“I need you.” His breath was ragged, and you clenched your fists—and hung up.

Before you knew it, you were locking your door and making your way to the basement of your apartment building. Climbing atop your green-accented motorcycle, you twisted the key, put on your helmet, and were on your way.

You kicked down the door to the warehouse, eyes searching as you stormed through. The location tracker showed you were only a few meters from the target.

His white hair came into view, and you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Kneeling down at his side, you started patting different parts of his body.

“Ah,” he winced lightly as your hand brushed against his abdomen.

You pressed your left palm flat against the bullet wound as your other hand dug around in your purse, desperately searching for the first-aid kit you carried with you.

This was a common occurrence between the two of you—something that was pretty much a given for the best friend and confidant of the leader of Onychinus. It had grown exponentially recently. Ever since he met her.

Cute, kind, and brave. The holy trinity. MC. But you could only describe her as a naïve, immature fool who had only ever caused you more trouble since entering your best friend’s life—and, by extension, yours.

MC was the last person you would think to be involved with the most dangerous gang in the N109 area. The two of you were vastly different. Seriously, it was uncanny. You, with your bare, bloody knuckles, short temper, and even shorter dresses. And her, with her hunter academy training, top-of-the-line education, and proper uniform.

Whatever the case, you’d end up fixing her up as always. Because that was what you did, wasn’t it? You were strong, capable, and reliable. These were the reasons Sylus held you in such high regard.

You and MC were undoubtedly complete and total opposites. The only thing you had in common was, well, Sylus. As you bandaged him up, you started looking around for her, expecting to find her sprawled out on the floor clinging to her weapon dearly—or already passed out.

Unlike her, you didn’t effortlessly win hearts simply by existing. Your beauty was a weapon in itself—sharp features and blood-red lips to go with his leather jackets and most likely bruised self.

“Hello? You there? Y/N. Ow.” His sudden hiss of pain brought you back to reality.

“Hurry up and move.” You stood up, extending a hand and pulling him up with little to no effort. You started walking in the other direction. Sylus’ warm hand enveloped your wrist, and you turned around—only to come face to face with him, noses mere inches apart.

“At least look at me.” His tone was cool, but his pleading eyes betrayed his true feelings.

“Where is she?” you said, your lips pursed as they often were in matters regarding the hunter.

“Where’s who?” he asked, his hand sliding down just a bit to hold your equally calloused one.

“Don’t,” you warned.

“…She had to go back home,” he said, sounding defeated.

“In the middle of a fight?” You scoffed.

“Yeah.” He gritted his teeth.

“So let me get this straight. You ignored all my warnings and proceeded to go after someone who then left you alone to fight at the very least three S-rank wanderers all on your own.” You raised your eyebrows, traces of wrath bubbling beneath your calm demeanor.

“Y/N, I know I fucked up. I should have listened to you. Can you skip the lecture, just this once?” he implored.

“Fine,” you relented.

You searched his face for any signs of distress, and upon finding no significant amount of it, decided he must’ve been feeling better. You brought a hand up to trace the outline of the freshly acquired wound on his cheekbone.

“I’m okay,” he assured you.

“I know.” You brought your hand back to rest at your side once more.

“You aren’t mad?” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

You shook your head, the sound of something rustling nearby enough for the two of you to rush out of the warehouse. Once you made it back to his house, you made your way to the bedroom.

He took a shower, and you resorted to finding the clothes you’d left behind the last time you were here, which was just last week. Right before Miss Hunter had barreled her way into your lives once more, leaving destruction in her wake—which you would end up having to fix.

You lay on the bed with your eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, and felt something warm slip in behind you. His arms snaked around your waist, and he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Go away,” you grumbled.

“Can’t do that, darling.” He nuzzled into your bare shoulder.

“Really? Because, if I recall correctly, you had no qualms doing exactly that when she was the one asking.” You shifted and turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it this time.” You bit the inside of your cheek, resolve slowly cracking as his hands traveled to your breasts, kneading them just how he knew you liked it.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said, lingering water droplets falling from the ends of his hair onto the dark sheets.

“You won’t talk to her,” you stated.

“I won’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I love you, Y/N. More than anything.” His eyes bore into your soul as if seeing right through you. You gulped.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

That was all the confirmation he needed to smash his lips into yours, as he’d done several times before. But for some reason, this time felt different. And so you kissed him back—just as passionately.

His hands made their way to your hips, one slipping beneath the waistband of your pajamas. You called out his name lightly as the pads of his fingers made contact with your sensitive clit. You hummed.

He slid your bottoms off, repositioning himself at the base of the bed and pulling your closer by your thighs. You moaned as he licked a stripe up your cunt.

He had always made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered to him. Perhaps that was why even as he slipped two fingers in without so much as a warning, your couldn’t find it in yourself to berate him any further.

He sucked on your clit in a way that—paired with the pace he had set with his fingers—had you seeing stars. You were getting impossibly close, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach.

You came with a cry of his name—letting out a small moan at the sight of him licking his fingers clean. He came up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. God, the things he did to you.

While making out once again, you felt something hard poking you, which prompted you to roll your hips against his.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he groaned.

“Pretty sure I do the exact opposite of that most days. Need I remind you there is still a gaping hole in you?” you chided.

“I have to apologise somehow.” he said, as if he had no choice.

If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve have been convinced his hands were tied. The only one who could free him of the burden that was your eternal debt being you yourself.

You flipped the two of you—now being on top of him—and gyrated your hips with an ample amount of pressure. You were careful so as not to hurt him, or risk the bandages getting loose.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” he grinned, though a particularly hard thrust from you shut him up effectively.

You increased the pace, his clothed dick rubbed deliciously against your puffy clit. You moaned as he grabbed your hips and further ground your hips into his.

“Sylus!” your head fell on his shoulder, breath coming out in ragged puffs.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” he bucked his hips up, successfully leading you and himself to orgasm.

Your soaked pussy clenched around nothing and you gushed all over his branded sweatpants. He followed a second later—painting the insides of his pants white.

You both panted but stayed like that for a while—your head in the crook of his neck, and his right hand tangled in your hair. Eventually, you went to get a wet washcloth, helping him clean up.

You laid back down as he put on a fresh pair of pants and tossed his stained ones in the hamper. He followed after you, pulling you into a hug.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mhm.” You flicked his nose.

“Say it back!” He gasped dramatically.

“Fine, you big baby.” You cracked a smile. “I love you.”

The blanket draped over you both offered much-appreciated warmth, but even that couldn’t compare to the sheer amount of body heat Sylus was radiating.

Even if sometimes he acted like a complete idiot, he was your idiot. And nothing would ever change that.

With that thought, you drifted off in his arms, lips lightly stretched in a contented smile.

A/n: Had the idea yesterday. Pulled an all-nighter and wrote this in one go,, I need to go to sleep now.

You can find more of my works here 🩷🩷

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shysuccubusstuff · 2 days ago

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l&ds nsfw links! pt. 2

Content: Zayne + Xavier + Rafayel in various NSFW imagines!

Note: It's so hard to find actual good content for these kind of imagine... How is everyone doing? I miss holidays so much... I did four instead of five cause I keep trying to find more accounts. Let me know if you liked it! Also, if anyone has any kind of request, my requests are always open tbh!!

Zayne:

Starved Zayne arriving after several days on a trip, he looks so exhausted but even if he has eyebags the only thing he can think of is grabbing you and letting you know just how much he actually missed you.

Zayne knows he should reject the idea, but how could he reject you when you keep begging him to fuck your throat, with your sweet eyes looking at him in such a way... He accepts, even if he still feels slightly guilty about it, but deep down, he may be enjoying the bulge that appears in your throat each time he shoves it deep inside you...

You sent him as a joke a supposedly true research about how sucking on your nipples could avoid you getting breast cancer... Despite Zayne looked almost ammused at first, you soon noticed how he had started to suck on them much more than often... Was this a mere coincidence?

Enforcer! Zayne taking all his anger out on you... He tried so hard do maintain his frenzy, biting his lips and leaving them all bruised just to stop himself from doing anything to you... But as soon as you use that damn enhancer on him, it's a matter of seconds before he has you lifted in the hair, your eyes rolling back as you keep pleading him to at least slow down for a second.

Xavier:

Jealous Xavier making sure to leave a lasting mark in your body. He knows it's dumb to feel that way because of some dumb barista clinging a bit too much on you, but he can't just help clenching his fist and forcing a kind smile towards you.

Just some warm-up between the two of you. You keep asking him to help you improve your stamina, what's better for that than riding him for some time? Don't worry! He will help you a bit, just make sure to get down all the way, ok?

Contrary to what many people believe, Xavier is one of the fittest LI, even if he doesn't look as strong. Just let him show you just how much he can last holding you up in the air, legs dangling as he keeps hitting your cervix with his tip.

Aftermath of that one card in which Xavier keeps getting teased while he wears his working out outfit... It is oly fair that he is able to tease you, right? He keeps taunting you, telling you to quiet down as he keeps rubbing his hardened cock against the crook of your ass. As soon as he releases, just now that this is far from over.

Rafayel:

After leaving due to work for a couple weeks, you end up receiving this video late at night... Who would imagine such a re-known artist would dare to do this kind of thing? The video has a small comment written by him: "I miss my cutie so much... the wait is becoming unbearable".

Just Rafayel giving a taste to that sweet nectar that is dripping down your legs. What do you mean that is unclean? Just relax and let him show just how much he adores you.

After acting as a butler for you, it is only fair for him to see you in those short and cute maid outfits! Just... don't blame him when his eyes begin to drift, ears starting to heat up as he keeps trying to stop his mind from imagining the many ways he would just take you right then and there. All he needs is you pulling him towards you to lose himself, one of his hands playing with your tits as the other circles around your clit.

You keep teasing him during the whole art exhibition, with you constantly wrapped around his arm, your chest pressing against his arm even as some of those supposedly art experts ask about the inspiration behind his latest paintings. Oh, you just knew he wouldn't let it slide the moment his eyes glistened with a dangerous look. As soon as you arrive to his studio... Well, let's just say that he made sure to give just as much as you had given to him...

#love and deep space #love and deepspace zayne #zayne smut #zayne love and deepspace #zayne lads #zayne imagines #lads #xavier imagines #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #rafayel x you #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds

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healedlover · 2 days ago

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VIRAL POSION

summary: a new virus spread around, and the only way to stop the virus was to bite your lover. pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: biting, sub nanami, p in v, he acts completely horny, dirty talk, lots of cum, creampie, kissing, kinda angsty…. a/n: ohh I miss nanami :(

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

Nanami didn’t know how he got in this situation, but here he was, getting bitten by a random lady on the street.

He froze in his spot, he didn’t move an inch, actually, he didn’t want to move at all. The lady kept her sharp, long teeth sunk inside nanami’s skin.

And that’s when he felt it.

What is this feeling?

Nanami wasn’t feeling like himself at all. In fact, he might’ve felt like a whole different person, his heart started to race quicker and quicker and all his mind was filled with was…

you.

There had been a new virus that spread around the world and it was caused from getting bitten by someone who was already infected.

The virus were to make you to a whole different person than you truly are, but it takes a bit before it kicks in a hundred percent.

One issue was, if you were bitten by a stranger, theres a higher chance of the urges to bite your lover to increase.

And if you do bite them.

You to die, together.

The lady’s teeth slicked out of Nanami’s skin, leaving a string of saliva following her lips. Without wasting a second she ran off, finding her next victim.

Nanami held his hand against his neck, the blood slowly dripping down as he could feel the effects starting to kick in. He didn’t want to tell you, not yet, but he needed to see you right now.

His feet stumble against the hard pavement under him, he attempted to walk back to his place, where you were peacefully waiting for him.

After an excruciating five minutes, Nanami finally made it to the front door of his house. He was burning up like crazy and felt like he was going to die any second.

Nanami fumbled the keys out of his pocket and shoved them in the key hole.

A clink was heard which indicated that the door was now unlocked. Nanami didn’t waste a second and pushed the door open, making it hit against the wall, almost leaving a dent.

The sounds of the tv were playing from afar and nanami knew he was so close, yet so far. His body was rejecting himself by the second and he needed to get to you immediately.

“Fuck..”

Nanami held onto the wall as he walked towards the living room, he was so close.

So…

Close….

A thump was heard from across the room. You the paused the TV and get up, walking towards the sound.

You peered through the wall and noticed nanami lying on the floor, not moving at all. Panicked, you rushed towards him trying to pry him awake.

“Kento? what’s wrong?”

You kept shaking his unconscious body and checked his breathing every ten seconds, thankfully he was still breathing but he wasn’t waking up at all.

You cling your arms around his large biceps and lift him up, dragging him to the couch. Nanami’s feet dragged on the floor causing it to make a painful sound.

You finally got to the couch and placed him on it. You grabbed the thermometer and straddled your legs around his hips, putting the thermometer under his tongue.

A few seconds passed, you took it out, and he was way above the average temperature. Sighing, you rest your fingers against his forehead feeling the heat of his skin radiating on your cold fingertips.

“Hey, wake up”

Nanami twitched under your touch and you removed your hand, staring at his every move, not trying to move an inch.

Groans slipped out of nanami’s lips as he starts to wake up again. His body shuddered at the feeling of someone on him and one of his hands slipped around your waist.

“Mmh…so…cold” he moaned, resting his head against your chest, you chuckle and slipping your fingers through his hair and pushing his head back to stare at his flushed face.

“Stay close….t’me…” he begged in a low whisper.

“Kento, what’s wrong?”

“Mhm…” nanami’s fingers slipped under your shirt, his hot fingertips making contact with your cold, bare back left shivers down your spine.

Nanami’s head was still nuzzled into your chest as he pulled you closer, he needed more of your coldness, or just more of you.

You push his head back again and notice a bite mark on his neck. Your fingers graze against the bite and you glance at nanami with a worried look.

He looked at you like nothing was wrong and lifted your shirt off of you. You scoff pressing on the bite, leaving a whimper to escape from nanami’s lips.

“Who bit you? I told you to not go out.”

“I don’t…ngh k-know, but I need you so bad right now..”

His mouth darted towards your neck but you pushed his head away before he could bite you. Nanami frowned and lunged towards you again, causing you to fall on the ground.

“Don’t bite me.” You warned

“Why not, hm?”

“We will die if you do, don’t fucking bite me.”

Nanami’s eyes widened and a glint of fear spiked through his eyes, he stared down at you, licking his lips before inching closer to you.

“Don’t. Bite.” You whisper.

Nanami gently pressed his lips on yours.

You sigh in relief and pull his head closer, slicking your tongue inside his mouth. The two of your tongues intertwined together, causing nanami to push his tongue deeper in you.

You then felt something graze against your teeth and you grab onto nanami’s hair, pulling him away from your face and stared up at him.

“Smile for me?”

Nanami grinned and your eyes widened at the sight.

“Fangs…” your thumb brushed against his sharp teeth and you pulled them away, lifting yourself off of the ground.

“I’d recommend we don’t kiss, yeah?”

Nanami frowned and pushed you back on the ground, ripping off the rest of your clothing, leaving you completely exposed under him.

“Hey it feels weird here—ngh?”

Nanami slipped a finger in your cunt and used his other arm to carry you off the ground. He kept his fingers in a consistent movement and your covered your face in embarrassment at the position.

“Hurry up will you?”

“I’m trying mmph you feel so goood I can’t wait to put my cock inside you…”

Nanami finally made it to the bedroom, he pulled his fingers out of you and threw you on the bed. Your body sunk down the soft mattress. Without wasting a second his fingers reach his belt and he unbuckles it in a quick movement.

He pulled down his pants and revealed his hard cock, dripping with pre-cum. You stare up at nanami who was already stroking himself as he stares into your eyes.

“Baby..I want to put it in, hm?”

“Go ahead.”

He smiled at your approval and grabbed your legs lifting them above his shoulders before aligning himself with your soaking cunt. You whimper as he keeps his hands gripped onto your calves in a tight hold.

“Ready?”

Nanami pushed his creamy tip inside your hole and you let out a moan. Nanami’s eyes sparked with a different emotion.

Lust.

“Fuck you’re so tight you’re taking me in so..ngh well…” he continued to drive himself into you, his pace quickened and he couldn’t help himself, he needed more.

“‘m gonna cum…baby…” nanami whined, you moaned in response too much in a haze to even respond. Nanami’s leaned in closer and pushed your legs forward as he pushed his whole length in you.

You moan in surprise and hold onto his arms, digging your nails deep inside his skin. Nanami winced in pleasure as he continued ramming his full length inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum..”

“Me too..yessss..”

A wave of shock spiked though your body and nanami slowly pulled away, watching the white creamy mixture drip out of you.

“So beautiful..” he whispered, stretching out your cunt, watching everything flow out of you.

“Kento—”

Nanami pressed his tip against your leaking hole and thrusted inside you. Your back arched in surprise and you felt his hands hold onto your hips as he continues quickening the pace.

“You hear that? It feels so good, it feels so good baby…”

“Yes yess”

“I need more of you, please let me kiss you.”

“I said no, you might bite—urgh—me!”

“Let. Me. Kiss. You.” He said between thrusts, his voice leaving a little whine at the end.

That got it for you.

You sigh and wrap your hand in the back of his neck and pull him in an intense kiss. He moaned in relief and pushed his tongue further into you.

“Thank you” he whispered between kisses, and continued holding on to you. You felt your legs starting to ache and nanami still wouldn’t stop.

He pulled his face away from you and with one final thrust he pulled out and white beads spurted out of his cock, lathering all over your body.

Cum trickled down your hole and nanami put his fingers inside you pulling out practically everything. You sigh against the bed and waited for nanami to finish cleaning up.

A few moments passed and nanami finished cleaning, he brought a shirt and put it on you before sitting down on the bed next to you.

“Why didn’t you call me when you got bitten?”

“I don’t know…I feel weird though..”

“Yeah?”

Nanami nodded and averted his gaze to you, the spark that was once there now disappeared filled with emptiness.

“Fuck…” you muttered, sitting up from the bed and straddled your legs around nanami once again.

He leaned in closer and gave you a small kiss, leaving more and more lower on your body, then his mouth stopped on your neck.

He looked up at you, a hint of questioning in his eyes.

“Bite me.”

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

he can bite me anywhere um

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fanfic #nanami angst #jjk fluff

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 day ago

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Title: Dancing with a Stranger

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: she’s got you dancing with a stranger and she’s not liking it one bit

🏷️: @yailtsv , @paxaz535 , @sitawita , @authentic-girl03 , @vamptizm

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

The club pulsed with bass, neon lights casting streaks of color across the crowded dance floor. Bodies moved against each other, heat rising in the air like static before a storm. I hadn’t even planned on going out tonight. But sitting alone in my apartment, staring at my phone, waiting for a text from Paige that wasn’t coming? That was unbearable.

So here I was.

With someone else.

A stranger’s hands rested on my waist, pulling me in closer as we swayed to the music. I barely caught his name when he introduced himself, not that it mattered. He was a distraction, a temporary fix for the ache in my chest. My fingers toyed with the rim of my glass before I drained the rest of my drink, the burn of liquor doing little to numb the feeling I was trying to shake.

Paige and I were done.

At least, that’s what she had said.

“I don’t think this is working anymore.”

The words replayed in my mind, cutting deeper every time. I hadn’t even fought her on it. I had too much pride for that, even though every part of me had wanted to beg her to stay. Instead, I had let her go. And now, I was here, dancing with someone who wasn’t her.

The stranger leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You good?”

I forced a smile, nodding, even though I wasn’t. “Yeah. Just in my head.”

His hands squeezed my waist in reassurance, but it wasn’t comforting. His touch wasn’t right. His body didn’t move like hers. His scent wasn’t the one that used to cling to my hoodie after late-night drives with Paige.

I closed my eyes, trying to let go, to disappear into the music.

But then, my stomach twisted.

A feeling—no, a presence.

I turned my head slightly, and there she was.

Paige.

Standing by the bar, eyes locked on me, her jaw clenched tight.

Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, strands falling around her face. A fitted crop top and jeans hugged her frame, and if I weren’t so bitter, I might have admitted she looked good. Too good.

But her expression?

That was a different story.

She was pissed.

Her grip tightened around the glass in her hand, knuckles white as she watched me. My body tensed, every nerve hyper-aware of the weight of her gaze.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Or maybe, I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Dancing with someone else.

Her lips parted slightly like she was about to say something, but she didn’t move.

Fine. If she wanted to watch, I’d give her a show.

I turned back to the stranger, letting my hands slide up his chest as I leaned in close. I didn’t care about him—I barely even saw him. But I wanted her to see. To feel what I felt when she walked away so easily.

Her chair scraped against the floor, and I knew she was coming before I even looked.

A second later, she was there, grabbing my wrist, yanking me back.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I ripped my hand away, heart hammering. “What does it look like?”

Paige’s eyes darkened, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “You’re seriously out here with him?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

The guy beside me cleared his throat. “Uh, do you two need a minute—”

Paige’s glare shut him up instantly. “Yeah. We do.”

I rolled my eyes, stepping away from both of them. “You don’t get to do this, Paige.”

She followed me as I pushed through the crowd, the heat of her presence burning into my back.

“Do what?” she shot back.

“Act like you care.”

“I do care.”

I whirled on her the second we reached a quieter corner, away from prying eyes. “Then why did you leave?” My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I thought it was what you wanted.”

I laughed bitterly. “Bullshit. You made that decision all on your own.”

She exhaled sharply. “I was scared, alright?”

“Of what?”

She hesitated.

“Of us?” I pressed. “Of actually trying? Because you’re really good at running, Paige. Really fucking good at shutting people out when things get real.”

She flinched, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”

“Well, congratulations. You did anyway.”

A tense silence settled between us.

The music pulsed in the background, distant, muffled.

Paige took a step closer, voice softer now. “I shouldn’t have left.”

I didn’t move. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

She swallowed hard. “And I sure as hell shouldn’t have let you think I didn’t want you.”

My breath hitched.

Because that was the thing—Paige had always wanted me. But she had never been good at showing it.

She reached out, hesitating for a second before her fingers brushed against mine. “I miss you.”

I closed my eyes. “Paige—”

“I miss everything. Us. You. Your stupid movie nights where you force me to watch rom-coms. The way you steal my hoodies even though you have your own. The way you—” She exhaled shakily, shaking her head. “I miss the way you love me.”

I looked away, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “You don’t get to say that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair.”

Paige reached for my hand fully this time, lacing her fingers with mine. “I don’t wanna be alone tonight,” she murmured, echoing the song playing in the background.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. “I don’t either.”

Her thumb brushed against my palm, gentle, hesitant. “Come home with me.”

I exhaled sharply. “Paige—”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” she admitted. “I know I fucked up. But let me fix it.”

I studied her, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all I saw was sincerity.

I wanted to be mad.

I was mad.

But I also wanted her.

Always had.

So, I made a choice.

I sighed, squeezing her hand. “You’re lucky I’m still stupidly in love with you.”

Paige let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

A slow smile spread across her lips as she pulled me closer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

I let her lead me out of the club, the stranger long forgotten.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how hard I tried—

Paige was the only one I ever wanted to dance with.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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yandere-sins · 2 days ago

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hii! i was wondering if you could write yandere aizawa x fem reader where she escapes for 10 days. When he finally gets her back, he gives her a punishment that lasts ten days. on the last day, he takes her out and shes so scared and timid. he washes her up and gives her food but she thinks he's messing with her.

thank you, you dont have to if you dont want to. ive never requested before so i dont know how to do this..

You did everything perfectly fine! Thank you for requesting one of my favs ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You were a sight to behold.

Always, of course. Nothing and no one could come close to you, both physically and mentally. No one that he'd rather spend time with, listen to as you complained, and share a bed with despite your struggling to get some space away from him. All he ever did was protect you, support you, love you. Those thoughts had kept him awake every second you had been gone, the pain in his heart unbearable as he missed you, searching every nook and cranny to retrieve you from your escape.

The nights were dark, the days too busy. You were clever, so you would desperately try to prevent attention on you, whether it was getting into confrontations or even just showing your face on a street interview. Aizawa was almost proud you escaped, showing how intelligent you truly were if you wanted to. It should not have felt like pure luck when he finally stumbled across you, but it was. Days of being free had made you careless, and Aizawa couldn't even dislike that about you, either, because it made you two closer in the end, even if you hated it.

For ten days, he had punished you. Precisely the same time you had spent frolicking outside, hiding in sleazy hotels, and being too paranoid to enjoy the time away from him. It was a vacation, but judging by how frail and exhausted you looked when he finally spotted you, you didn't use it as much as you should have, given that ten days of pain and torment awaited you once you came home.

One day where he broke your fragile resistance by dragging you back, making you regret ever leaving until you swore you wouldn't do it anymore.

One day where he made you feel worthless and incapable, giving you better examples of what you should have done and how you could have properly escaped him, forcing you to repeat his lesson over and over.

One day spent in pain, making sure you'd remember your wrong-doings, where his scarf became a whip, and you had to count the strikes and tell him why you were wrong to leave.

One day without food and water, chained to a wall, soiling yourself and feeling all the pain from the prior day, all so Aizawa could make you believe you were dying so you'd cling to him on the next day.

One day resting on the couch, forcing you to eat, drink, and feel anything he ordered you too, chipping away on your self-preservation and ensuring you knew he was the one providing everything for you.

One day where he instilled the feeling of being helpless in you, waterboarding you in the tub when you were barely awake yet, so he could really ingrain the fear that he had power over you no matter what,

could care for you and hurt you at any given time.

One day, he took you outside to the scummiest part of the town, showing you that you were an easy target without his protection, letting the worst of the worst leer, grab, and hurt you until you pleaded and begged for him.

One day to let you sleep in the cold, dark basement, gagged and blindfolded, deprived of your senses, so your thoughts could finally focus on what was important—Aizawa.

On the last day, Aizawa took you out to a cafe, ordered your favorite dessert, and fed it to you, always waiting for you to willingly open your mouth. He took you home and undressed you, a sharp breath of his enough warning for you to stay still, and for a few hours, he merely spent his time taking care of you, brushing your hair properly, washing your body, treating your wounds, telling you he loved you and would always be with you.

There were only minor reactions from you. A bit of panic when the water sloshed too high, flinching when Aizawa touched your bruised arms, and a soft sigh as he massaged your scalp. You, clinging to his arm to make sure he'd not leave you in the same situation you had been in before, and you only hesitated for a second before opening your mouth and eating what he held out to you.

It was perfect.

Finally, Aizawa had you where he always wanted you. You wouldn't stray from his side, accepted his protection and closeness. There wasn't a hint of struggling when he took care of you, and you crawled into his arms willingly that night, resting your head on his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was how it was always meant to be. You were perfect—this relationship was.

So, to make sure you finally understood your place by his side, on day eleven, he started from the very beginning, every punishment more severe than on day one. And what a sight you were, bruised and battered, knowing very well what would happen the next day as you clung to his left leg after just three days of punishment. Looking up at your captor with your dull, tear-filled eyes, whispering, "I love you," like Aizawa had always wanted.

The scarf he used as a whip slid to the floor. Hearing these words, his heart burst with adoration and pride. Yes, you finally understood it! You finally relented your useless struggle and gave way to your true feelings! He was overcome by adoration as he hugged you tightly, your blood staining his clothes, the smell making him both happy and nauseous at the same time. It smelled like you, the very essence of you, and Aizawa loved it. You were a sight to behold, perfect both body and mind. Everything was finally as it should.

"I love you, too," he whispered, squeezing you tighter even though you whimpered from the pain. "I love you so much."

"But you lost your streak, let's start again. Don't cry, my love, I know you can do it."

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slvbun · 3 days ago

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EASY-PEASY COOKIES ♡ Drew S.

What can go wrong when all you want is to bake cookies to your boyfriend?

content: drew x bimbo reader!, fluff, dumbification, mentions of sex, cursing, a bit cheesy.

english's not my first language, so sorry 4 the mistakes, lol

The kitchen in her plush, pastel-drenched apartment was usually a pristine little nook white cabinets with rose-gold handles, a countertop dotted with her glittery trinkets, and a pink Smeg toaster she’d begged Drew to buy because it matched her vibe. Today, though, it was a war zone straight out of a baking apocalypse. Flour blanketed the counter like a fresh snowfall, drifts piling up against a jar of rainbow sprinkles that had tipped over, scattering tiny sugar beads across the chaos. Sticky dough clung to everything, smeared in gummy streaks across the cabinets, glopped in tacky clumps on the edge of the sink, even splattered in a gooey arc on the glossy pink tile backsplash. A mixing bowl sat abandoned, its contents a lumpy, half-hearted attempt at cookie batter, yellow streaks of yolk marbling through the too-wet mess, spilling over the rim to puddle on the counter like a sad, melted snowman. Her bedazzled phone case, propped against the sprinkle jar, glowed with the open blog page:

“Easy-Peasy Sugar Cookies for Your Sweetie!" Complete with a photo of perfect golden rounds she’d dreamed of recreating for Drew.

It had started with the best intentions.

She’d flounced into the kitchen that afternoon, her lavender crop top, a shimmery, ribbed number that barely grazed her ribs, clinging to her curves, paired with a glitter-dusted mini skirt that swished against her thighs with every bounce. She’d tied a pink apron over it, the ruffled hem fluttering as she cranked up her pop playlist, hips swaying to the beat. Her slippers, fluffy and studded with rhinestones, scuffed the hardwood as she dumped a heaping cup of flour into the bowl, white powder puffing up in a cloud that dusted her glossy bangs. She’d giggled, brushing it off her cheek, only to swipe a sticky streak of dough there instead when she cracked an egg, shell and all, into the mix, the jagged bits sinking into the goo. The blog said “knead until smooth,” so she’d plunged her hands in, glitter-polished nails sinking into the tacky mess, but it stuck, first to her fingers, then her wrists, then somehow a glob flew free, splatting against the cabinet with a wet thwack. She’d yelped, flailing, and a second blob launched onto the ceiling, dangling there like a sugary stalactite.

Panic set in. She’d grabbed a sponge, but it glued itself to her dough-caked palm, and in her scramble to shake it off, a bag of sugar tipped, spilling across the floor in a crystalline avalanche that crunched under her slippers. Sprinkles, her tiny dog with a bow on his fluffy head, yipped from the doorway, his little paws skittering back as if offended by the mess. By the time she gave up, the kitchen was a sticky, powdery nightmare, and she sank to the floor, cross-legged in the wreckage. Her skirt rode up her thighs, and a smudge of dough clung to her nose like a badge of defeat. Her charm bracelet jingled as she hugged her knees, glossy eyes welling up, mascara-tinted tears spilling down her cheeks to streak her shimmery foundation.

“I’m so dumb,” she whimpered to herself. “Can’t even make cookies right. Drew’s gonna come home, and I’m just a big, stupid, messy baby.”

Her pout trembled, lips slick with gloss, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing into the dough-sticky mess, her whole body quaking with each hiccupping cry.

The front door clicked open, and Drew stepped in, his duffel bag thudding to the floor with a dull thump. His faded black hoodie smelled faintly of plane seats and coffee, and his sneakers crunched sugar as he crossed the threshold. The kitchen hit him like a slap, flour dusting the air like a fine mist, dough smears glistening under the pendant lights, and his dazzling, teary-eyed girlfriend crumpled in the middle of it all.

“Babe?” he called, voice rough with concern as he dropped to his knees beside her, the sugar gritting under his weight. “Hey, princess, what happened?”

She peeked up through her lashes, eyes wide and watery, her mascara-streaked face a tragic little masterpiece.

“I’m so dumb!” she wailed, flinging her arms out to gesture at the chaos, her bracelet clinking like tiny bells. “I read this blog, and it said cookies were easy, and I wanted to make you something yummy ‘cause you’ve been gone forever, but it’s all sticky and gross, and I’m too stupid to fix it!” Her voice cracked, and she swiped at her face, smearing dough and tears into a glittery mess. “I ruined everything!”

Drew’s chest tightened, he hated when she called herself that, his sweet, sparkly girl tearing herself down over something so small.

“Hey, no, stop that,” he said, firm but gentle, cupping her face in his big, warm hands. His thumbs brushed away the sticky tear tracks, smudging her makeup further, and he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “You’re not dumb, baby. You’re my perfect little angel, you hear me? This doesn’t change a damn thing.” His voice was low, soothing, wrapping around her like a blanket, and he pulled her into his lap right there on the gritty floor, not caring that flour dusted his jeans or that a smear of dough transferred to his hoodie. Her soft curves pressed against him, her head tucking under his chin, and he rocked her gently, kissing her flour-dusted hair. “You tried to make me something. That’s not stupid—that’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Mad?” He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest as he brushed a glob of dough off her nose with a tender swipe. “Babe, I’m obsessed with you. Look at this—you turned the kitchen into a glittery disaster just to make me happy. You’re not dumb, you’re… adorably fucking clueless, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He tilted her face up, his crooked grin melting her, and kissed her slow, soft lips pressing against her glossy ones, tasting the faint sugar and salt of her tears. She giggled into it, a shaky little sound, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “My messy little doll.”

She sniffled, clutching his hoodie with sticky fingers, her cheek smushing against the soft fabric.

“Really?” she mumbled, voice tiny and hopeful, her pout softening as she peeked up at him through wet lashes. “You’re not mad?”

Her tears slowed, and she nuzzled his neck, leaving a sticky gloss mark on his skin.

“You’re, like, the best,” she whispered, voice still wobbly but warm. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Her bathroom was a pastel shrine, pink subway tiles gleaming under soft lighting, a fluffy white rug tufted with tiny hearts, and a clawfoot tub big enough for two. He set her on the marble counter, her skirt hiking up to flash her glittery thong, the lavender fabric catching the light like a disco ball. She kicked her legs as he turned on the faucet, water rushing into the tub with a steamy hiss. He grabbed her strawberry bubble bath, pink bottle, glitter flecks swirling inside, and dumped in a generous glug, the sweet, candy-like scent filling the air as foam piled high, bubbles popping with tiny rainbows. For good measure, he tossed in a glitter bath bomb, watching it fizz and dissolve, turning the water a shimmery, iridescent pink that matched her vibe.

“It’s perfect ‘cause it’s you,” he murmured, standing and scooping her up in his arms, bridal style, her legs dangling, slippers crunching sugar as they fell off. Her arms looped around his neck, charm bracelet tinkling, and he carried her to the bathroom, her giggles echoing down the hall.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Kitchen can wait.”

“Clothes off, princess,” he teased, tugging the apron strings loose.

She giggled, peeling off the sticky crop top, revealing her perky tits, dusted with flour like powdered sugar on a pastry, and shimmied out of the skirt, leaving her in just that sparkly thong. Her skin glowed, soft and smooth, a few stray dough smears clinging to her hips and thighs like edible tattoos. He shed his hoodie, the fabric catching on his broad shoulders, then kicked off his jeans, revealing the lean, muscled lines of his body, tan skin stretched over biceps that flexed as he helped her up. He climbed into the tub first, sinking into the steaming, bubble-laden water, and pulled her in after him.

She squealed as the heat hit her, bubbles surging up to her chest, and settled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest, her ass nestling against his crotch.

“Better?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, hands splaying over her stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles on her wet skin.

The water sloshed, glitter swirling in eddies, and he kissed her shoulder, lips brushing a dough-free patch that tasted faintly of her vanilla lotion.

“Mmm, so much,” she sighed, tipping her head back against his shoulder, her damp hair sticking to his neck. “You’re, like, magic, DrewBear.”

Her hand slid under the water, grazing his thigh, nails scraping lightly, and he groaned, shifting so she could feel him hardening against her.

“Careful, baby,” he warned, voice dropping to a husky growl as he nipped her ear. “You’re all soft and slippery now—gonna make me wanna fuck you right here if you keep teasing.” She giggled, wiggling her hips deliberately, and he tightened his grip, hands sliding up to cup her tits, thumbs brushing her nipples until they peaked under the bubbles. “Goddamn, you’re perfect,” he rasped, praising her as she squirmed, her breath hitching. “My sweet, messy little dream.”

They soaked instead, cuddling close, his hands roaming, squeezing her hips, kneading her shoulders, tracing the curve of her spine, praising her in murmurs that left her blissed out, her head empty of anything but his warmth. “So fucking gorgeous,” he’d whisper, or “My pretty little disaster,” until she was a puddle in his arms, giggling at every touch. The dough washed away, leaving her skin silky and flushed, and he massaged her neck, thumbs digging into knots she didn’t know she had, the strawberry scent wrapping them in a sugary haze.

Later, they climbed out, water dripping onto the fluffy rug as he wrapped her in a massive pink towel, soft as a cloud, edges embroidered with tiny bows. He grabbed a plain white one for himself, toweling off his hair until it stuck up in damp spikes, and they padded to the living room. The kitchen stayed a wreck, flour still clinging to the ceiling, sugar crunching underfoot, but he didn’t care, pulling her onto the couch under a plush throw blanket. Sprinkles hopped up, curling into a fluffy ball between them, and she draped her legs over his lap, her towel slipping to reveal a glimpse of thigh he couldn’t resist stroking.

“Takeout tonight,” he said, kissing her forehead, his lips lingering on her warm skin. “And tomorrow, we’ll tackle those cookies together. I’ll measure, you stir—deal?”

His fingers tangled in her damp hair, tugging gently, and she beamed, glossy eyes sparkling like the bathwater.

“Deal, DrewBear,” she cooed, snuggling closer, her cheek pressed to his chest where she could hear his heartbeat. “Love you so much.”

#drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x female reader #bimbo reader #slvbun

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kingcrossbones · 1 day ago

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He was a little surprised that the god didn't take the hosing down as hard as it could have been and Brock wondered if it had anything to do with that frost giant thing he vaguely remembered Loki mentioning. In a way, he was relieved because he did this for his own sake too, and cold water was the only thing that ever came out of those hoses.

That was all good but the thing that pissed him the fuck off was Loki's compliance. It felt a little too fuckin late. Not to mention the evasion in the answers he received. It seemed that Loki needed a reminder and with that, Brock took two long strides and grabbed him by the throat, and nearly carried him to the closest wall and slammed him against it, Brock's front pressed against Loki's. They were so close that Brock could tell Loki's each individual eyelash apart from the other. "I didn't fuckin asked what happened when you said yer name, did I? I asked you if you remember what that is", Brock's clothes started to get wet from pressing against Loki so hard but he had other things on his mind right now "Now let's try again," he said slowly, and even if the tone was calm, there was a fire of pure rage burning in him, darkening his eyes "What's yer fuckin name, sweetheart and do ya remember how you got here?"

He released him and stepped back, his wet shirt clinging to him like a second skin beneath the x shaped harness across his chest. Whatever frost giant Loki was, Brock was the exact opposite. He felt like his hole body was burning hot and wouldn't be surprised if the clothes on him would dry up in just a few minutes.

Brock started pacing again in frustration that all the time spent with Loki was just wasted time and all he had to work with here was slightly less worse than the winter soldier immediately off the ice. At least the soldier was sincere and that's what Brock appreciated the most.

"They don't know you're awake yet. Stay down."

Loki had briefly started to sit up, but the harshly growled whisper to stay down kept him in his place. He was all for keeping himself alive and safe and if this man's tone was anything to go off of, it would serve him well to listen. His green eyes were focused intensely on the man next to him, "Who is 'they' and why are you helping me?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper to avoid arousing the attention of the other people in the room.

@kingcrossbones

#trust-my-glorious-purpose #rp

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sturn777 · 17 hours ago

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ONE NIGHT, pt 2 to this fic

YOU WAKE UP TO A POUNDING HEADACHE and the unfamiliar scent of cologne clinging to the sheets. a groan slips past your lips as you shift, the dull ache between your legs reminding you exactly what went down last night.

fuck.

blinking through the haze, you push yourself up, glancing around the dimly lit bedroom. clothes are scattered across the floor, your dress, his hoodie, a pair of boxers that definitely aren’t yours.

you curse under your breath, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible. chris is still asleep, his bare chest rising and falling steadily, dark hair a mess against the pillow.

not your problem.

you snatch your dress off the floor, shimmying into it with frantic hands, grabbing your bag and keys off the nightstand.

just go. don’t be weird about it.

the floor creaks under your feet as you make your way to the door, wincing at every sound. you don’t look back before slipping out.

by the time the sun is setting, the whole thing feels like a bad decision shoved into the back of your mind. until your phone buzzes.

chris sturniolo: bout to pull up. got some blunts

your stomach flips.

you should leave him on read.

should.

instead, you reply.

you: see you soon

it’s barely ten minutes before there’s a knock at your door.

you open it to find chris, hoodie over his head, backpack slung over one shoulder, lips curled into that stupid, lazy smirk.

“sup, trouble?”

you roll your eyes, stepping aside to let him in. he tosses his bag onto the couch, pulling out a couple of pre-rolls like this is just a normal thing for you two.

like he didn’t have you spread out in his bed less than twenty-four hours ago.

the blunt is lit, smoke swirling between you as you sit on the couch, passing it back and forth. it should be chill. should be normal.

but his knee is brushing against yours, fingers lingering when he hands it to you, gaze flicking to your lips every time you inhale.

“so,” he exhales, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “you always sneak out like that?”

you snort. “you always dm girls you had a one night stand with like nothing happened?”

his smirk deepens. “depends.”

“on what?”

he shifts closer, eyes hooded, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“on if i wanna do it again.”

your breath catches.

chris doesn’t miss it.

the blunt is barely stubbed out before his mouth is on yours, hands pushing under your hoodie, thumbs pressing into your hips like he knew this was gonna happen.

and maybe he did.

maybe you did, too.

because the moment you let him in, you should’ve known one night was never gonna be enough.

his lips are warm, a little rough from the smoke, but insistent as they press against yours. your hands fist into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, his body heavy against yours as he pushes you down into the couch.

his tongue brushes against yours, slow and teasing, like he’s savoring it. like he’s got all the time in the world.

“knew you’d let me back in,” he murmurs against your lips, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shorts, playing with the waistband.

you don’t even have it in you to pretend you don’t want this.

not when he’s pressing his knee between your legs, nudging them apart, his breath hot against your cheek.

“bet you were thinking about it all day,” he mutters, his fingers finally dipping beneath your panties, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit.

you shudder, your head falling back against the couch as his fingers slide lower, teasing at your entrance.

“this wet f'me already?” he chuckles, sliding a finger inside, groaning when your walls clench around him. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

your hips buck up into his hand, desperate for more, but he keeps his pace slow, dragging his fingers out before pushing them back in, setting a torturously steady rhythm.

“chris—” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

“what?” he taunts, adding a second finger, curling them just right. “tell me what you want, baby.”

you bite your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as he leans down, lips ghosting over your ear.

“nah, i think i already know.”

and with that, his fingers disappear, your whine cut off by the sound of his zipper.

he smirks, dragging your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor before lining himself up, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

“still wanna act like last night was a mistake?” he rasps, pushing in slow, stretching you open all over again.

your breath catches, legs wrapping around his waist as he sinks in to the hilt, bottoming out with a low groan.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust, pulling back just enough to slam back in, making you gasp.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he fucks into you, slow and deep, like he’s got something to prove. like he wants to make sure you feel him.

“so tight,” he mutters, watching the way your body reacts to every thrust. “fuck, baby, you missed me, huh?”

you can’t even deny it, not with the way you’re moaning, your nails dragging down his back as he picks up the pace, hips snapping against yours.

“knew you’d let me back in,” he grits out, one hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

you’re barely holding on, legs trembling, back arching as pleasure builds and builds, a tight coil in your stomach ready to snap.

“c’mon, baby,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. “let me feel it.”

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles, and that’s all it takes, your body tenses, walls clenching around him as you cry out, pleasure washing over you in waves.

chris groans, hips stuttering as he follows, pressing deep as he spills inside you, his breath ragged, body shuddering with the aftershocks.

he stays there for a moment, catching his breath, before pulling out, watching as his cum drips down your thighs.

“shit,” he mutters, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “guess you really wanted me back.”

you smack his arm, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move away.

💬 : already in love w these two... send in asks ab them !

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @inspiredangel ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @ivyandthebeans ; @amelia-sturniolo3 ; @dominicfikeenthusiast ; @sophand4n4 ; @ch6rm ; @et6rnalsun; @sturniolossss ; @jetaimevous ; @chrissweetheart ; @secretlocket ; @courta13 ; @mattsleftball ; @chrislova ; @etherealval ; @throatgoat4u ; @oopsiedaisydeer ; @dearsoulmate3 ; @leaningoutthewindow ; @izzylovesmatt ; @rinnsgalaxy ; @espressqe ; @pair-of-pantaloons ; @chericherrybaby )

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brunettemarionette · 3 days ago

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𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

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shiregoth · 1 day ago

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came across this tiktok and had Thots TM. is this anything?

potter!eddie x fem!reader, no y/n, canon compliant so mentions of post!upside down recovery, but mostly tooth-rotting fluff with a bit of steam, 18+

wc: 840

eddie's good at working with his hands; always has been. it's no different now, as he works malleable clay through fingers just regaining their strength. you follow the line from their hypnotizing movement over his wrists up his arms, noting scar tissue over and between beloved ink. you trace along it even where they're covered by his shirt; where you know his skin is deathly white in large patches still, impacting muscles just slowly growing back to their proper function.

he's come so far since that crappy summer of '86, when he'd been mostly chained to a hospital bed and all the hush money from the government couldn't get him any closer to his dreams. sweetheart sits in your lap now, a little battered and dusty, but getting played semi-regularly again. you've never been much good at it, but you can fiddle well enough to restring and tune her; that much, at least, you can do for eddie, now that he's started practicing daily again. the talent, the skill is still there - only the body has trouble keeping up. the pottery helped; a doctor had suggested it as a way to loosen his finger and arm muscles, training that won't lead to cramps and anger and breakdowns. it's good for him; despite the initial reluctance, it brings him peace.

it brings you peace, too. from where you're lounging across the bed, your gaze travels up across his collar bones, up his focused face with bangs slightly matted across his forehead, curls up in a bun. you smile at your boy, so unusually soft in his concentration. can't keep it in any longer. "you're beautiful."

a blush creeps up his cheeks to his ears, the same speed as the grin creeps over your face. big brown eyes meet yours, slightly bashful, very adoring, carrying a glint you almost feared he lost. before you can say anything else, one of his hands dips into the bowl of water next to him to flick some towards your face. fake outrage quickly follows your surprise at his deflection - "and how dare you, good sir?" - before gently laying the guitar by your side on the bed.

"unprovoked attacks!" eyes and mouth go comically round; you stem your fists on your hips for added effect. "that's the thanks i get!"

eddie can hardly contain his snort at your act. concentration now broken, the cast on his potter's wheel looses shape; squeaking as the rotations slowly come to a stop and he turns half towards you. "yeah?" without looking, he fishes for a towel to dry off his hands, with middling success. "and what'cher gonna do about it?"

you make a go for the towel but he yanks it out of your reach, getting you close enough to grab your wrist, pull you into him with sudden strength and nimble fingers.

those nimble fingers spread in your hair, spear in your cunt. you cling to his shoulders, face in his neck, keening softly at every movement. "that's it, baby," he says, and you can feel the satisfied smile against your skin. your hips cant into his hand, pressing it down into his own crotch, creating friction for the both of you. eddie swallows a low moan, huffs. your very favorite song.

you'd sell your soul to keep hearing it.

one of your hands travels down, moves along with him in your rhythm, while one of his moves your head so he can look at you, kiss you, devour you fully. his tongue moves in time with his thumb on your clit, once, twice, three more times before you unspool like loose wire. ecstatic shudders; then you melt, boneless, malleable like his clay. eddie's fingers slip out of you but stay down, wrap around your hand wrapped around his cock. not changing your pace, just holding on; moving together. his head tilts back, eyes shut, and you can't decide what you'd rather sink your teeth into - the skin of his exposed neck, or his quivering bottom lip.

you choose the former, nipping and licking while your hand still works him between you, feeling the vibrations of his growl under your lips. your thumb flicks across his head, spreading precum in a messy pattern down his cock, and the noise eddie makes his heavenly. you play him like he does the strings of his guitar - slowly, this time, but not any less wonderful than any time before. there's so many ways to make music still.

a few strokes, another kiss, and he's coming between you. his beautiful eyes glow when they find their way back to you. you'll worry about the mess later; right now, time feels soft and fluid and sticky in the best way. you lazily pick a sprinkle of clay out of his hair, and eddie's grin spills into a giggle. his arms wrap around you, kneading softly at your hips, moulding you to him. he traces patterns into your back. you hum disjointed melodies into his neck. in the watery afternoon sunlight, a future is shaped.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #potter!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson fic #gothtales

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yunholic-jongholic · 3 days ago

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Love In a Divorce [Part 4] | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | In a strained 10-year marriage, you and your husband decide to get a divorce due to growing tensions. While meeting with your divorce attorney, you unexpectedly develop feelings for him. As the divorce process unfolds, you find yourself in an intimate relationship with the attorney, complicating the situation as you navigate your separation from your ex-husband.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MINORS DNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | NSFW, Smut, Physical Harm, Abusive Relationship, Anxiety/Panicking, Bruises, Cursing, Unprotective Sex (Don't do it.), Creampie, Alcohol Consumption, Drunk Sex (Consensual), Marking, (I might have missed some, sorry if I did.)

WORD COUNT | 4.5k

AUTHOR NOTE | This is part 4! I am near the end, but I've been dealing with school, work and moving at the moment. I am sorry I am backed up on my stories + requests TT ...

TAG LIST | @blackandgreenandblue @mingisleftnipple @kyunlov

•

As you sat at your desk, the hum of office chatter and the soft clatter of keyboards filled the room, but it all felt distant—like background noise you couldn’t fully tune into. No matter how hard you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to last night with Jongho. The warmth of his arms around you, the heated moments you both shared, and the way his presence had made you feel safe—like you belonged somewhere for the first time in a long while.

You stared at your screen, fingers poised over the keyboard, but the words blurred, your thoughts tangled with memories of his touch, his voice, the subtle scent of his cologne still lingering in your mind. I just want to be with him forever, you thought, the realization hitting you with a quiet intensity. It wasn’t just the comfort he offered—it was how effortlessly he filled the empty spaces inside you, the parts you thought would never feel whole again.

You shook your head slightly, trying to pull yourself back to the present, to the work piling up in front of you. But no matter how hard you tried, your heart was already somewhere else—back in that quiet apartment, wrapped in the warmth of Jongho’s presence. And with every passing hour, the longing to return to him grew stronger, like an invisible thread tugging at your heart.

You got up from your desk, hoping a quick walk to the break room and a glass of water would help clear your mind. The fluorescent lights hummed softly above you as your footsteps echoed down the hallway, your thoughts still tangled with memories of Jongho.

But as you rounded the corner, your heart stopped.

There he was—your husband—walking through the office doors like he belonged there. His presence was like a cold wave crashing over you, washing away the warmth you'd been clinging to all morning. Your heart dropped, thudding heavily in your chest, a mix of fear, confusion, and dread rising like a knot in your throat.

Why is he here? The question echoed in your mind, panic settling into the pit of your stomach.

You instinctively stepped back slightly, trying to steady your breathing, your fingers tightening around the empty cup in your hand. Your mind raced with possibilities—Did he find out where I was staying? Is he here to cause a scene? —but no answers came, only the rapid beating of your heart as you watched him move further into the office, oblivious to your presence for now.

You stood frozen for a moment, gathering the courage to decide what to do next. Your husband stormed up to you, his face twisted with anger, his voice sharp and accusing.

"Where were you last night? Why didn’t you come home? Are you cheating on me? Is that why you want a divorce? Are you sleeping with someone?" he snapped, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin. His glare was piercing, filled with rage that made your heart pound in fear.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. Your breath hitched as your eyes darted around the room, catching the concerned stares of your coworkers. Their conversations had stopped, replaced by a heavy silence as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene. The humiliation burned hot in your chest, mixing with fear.

You wanted to scream, to push him away, to fight back—but the words stuck in your throat, frozen by the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Your eyes welled with tears, blurring your vision as your heart raced, trapped between fear and helplessness.

Say something, your mind screamed, but your voice felt lost, buried beneath the weight of his grip and the suffocating tension surrounding you.

"Let me go..." was all you could manage to say, your voice shaky, barely more than a whisper. You tried pulling your wrist free, but his grip only tightened, the pain sharp and immediate as his fingers dug into your skin.

Without giving you a chance to resist further, he dragged you through the office, ignoring the shocked, concerned looks from your coworkers. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears stinging your eyes—not just from the pain, but from the humiliation of being pulled like this, powerless, exposed.

Once outside, his grip remained relentless as he snapped even louder, his face twisted with fury. "You smell like another guy's cologne!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the surrounding buildings.

You felt your wrist throbbing under his iron grasp, pretty sure it would bruise from the force. Panic surged through you, but beneath the fear, something else began to rise—anger. Anger at him, at the situation, at how small he made you feel.

Your breath came in quick, shallow bursts, but deep down, you knew this had to stop. You are not his possession. You are stronger than this.

Gathering every ounce of courage, you clenched your free hand into a fist, not just with fear, but with determination. This was not going to be the moment he controlled you anymore.

Your heart pounded as adrenaline surged through your veins. The fear gripping you was overwhelming, but something deep inside—an ember of strength—flared to life.

"We are getting a divorce. There’s no damn way I still belong to you!" you shouted, your voice trembling but fierce. "I’m already filing it at my next meeting!"

With every bit of strength you had, you yanked your arm free, clenching your fists at your sides. But before you could even take a breath, his hand came down hard across your face. The sharp sting of the slap echoed in your ears, and your vision blurred momentarily from the force.

He didn’t stop. His fingers gripped your chin roughly, forcing you to look into his eyes, filled with rage and control.

"You’re going home with me, and you’ll never see the light of day again," he hissed, as he shoved your face away like you were nothing, his hand quickly latching onto your arm again. But something inside you snapped. This was it—you weren’t going to let him win. Not anymore.

You pulled back with all your strength, planting your feet firmly on the ground. "HELP!" you screamed, your voice raw and desperate, echoing through the open space around you. "SOMEONE HELP ME!"

Your cry pierced the air, shattering the barrier of silence that fear had built around you. People nearby stopped, heads snapping in your direction. Strangers’ eyes locked on the scene, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as they processed what was happening.

Your husband’s grip faltered just slightly, caught off guard by your sudden defiance and the attention it was drawing. But you didn’t stop yelling. "HELP! HE’S HURTING ME!"

Several people began rushing toward you, some pulling out their phones, others shouting at him to let you go. You could see someone dialing the police. The fear was still there, but this time, it was joined by something stronger hope. This time he let go and let you run off. But he was the one running like a coward. You just glared at him as he walked to his car and drove off.

"Are you okay?" one of your coworkers rushed over, their voice filled with concern as they gently guided you away from your husband’s grip and back inside the building. Your heart was racing, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the adrenaline slowly began to wear off, leaving behind a shaky, hollow feeling in your chest.

The moment you stepped back inside, the warmth of the office felt suffocating compared to the cold fear that still lingered on your skin. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you—worried, sympathetic, and shocked.

Glancing down, you saw the dark outline of a bruise already forming on your wrist, the skin tender and swollen from his brutal grip. You instinctively tried to cover it with your sleeve, but the ache reminded you it was there.

When you caught a glimpse of your reflection in a nearby glass panel, your stomach twisted. A vivid red mark spread across your cheek; the harsh imprint of his slap unmistakable. Your eyes were glassy, filled with tears you’d been fighting to hold back.

"Do you want me to call someone? The police?" your coworker asked softly, their hand resting lightly on your shoulder, grounding you.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight, but deep down, you knew what you had to do. This was your moment to take back control, to protect yourself, and to make sure he’d never hurt you again.

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling. "It's okay... I'm okay..." you shook off your reaction.

"You should go home," your coworker said softly, their voice filled with concern. "I’ll let your manager know what happened and cover for you."

You nodded, your throat tight as you whispered, "Thank you," barely able to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

The walk to your car felt like a blur, your legs shaky beneath you. Once inside, you closed the door, the silence pressing heavily around you. Your hands trembled as you gripped the steering wheel, staring blankly ahead, your mind racing.

The bruise on your wrist throbbed, a painful reminder of what had just happened. You could still feel the sting on your cheek, the echo of his words ringing in your head.

Your phone sat in your lap, the screen lighting up with notifications you couldn’t bother to check. Your heart ached with the overwhelming need to hear a familiar, comforting voice. You hovered over your contacts, torn between two names—Yeosang and Jongho.

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen, debating who to call. You needed someone—not just anyone—but someone who would understand, who wouldn’t judge, who would make you feel like you weren’t alone. You decided to call Jongho hoping he wasn't busy at work.

With a shaky breath, you finally pressed the call button, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. The phone barely rang once before Jongho picked up, his familiar voice soft and steady through the speaker.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked gently, his tone filled with quiet concern.

That simple question—so casual, so full of care—was the breaking point. The dam you’d been holding back all morning finally burst. A sob escaped your lips, raw and uncontrollable, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying—really crying. The kind of cry that came from deep inside, from fear, exhaustion, and the overwhelming weight of everything you’d been through.

You couldn’t even form words at first, just gasps between sobs, your body shaking as you gripped the phone tighter, tears streaming down your face.

Jongho didn’t hang up. He didn’t rush you. His voice remained calm, like an anchor in the middle of your storm. "It’s okay. I’m here. Just breathe, Y/N. I’ve got you. Where are you?"

Hearing his voice, steady and patient, made the fear feel a little less consuming. Even though you couldn’t get the words out just yet, knowing he was there, listening, was enough to keep you from falling apart completely. You tried to calm yourself and asked if you could see him at the office. He sighed and said he should be free in about an hour.

"No, I mean… I need to talk to you. I need to finish this so I can get away from him," you managed to choke out between shaky breaths, wiping the tears from your face with the sleeve of your shirt.

There was a brief pause on the other end, Jongho’s tone softening even more, his professionalism slipping into something warmer, more personal. "Oh… then you can come by," he said gently, his voice steady like it always was, the calm you desperately needed right now.

You let out a shaky sigh, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. "Okay," you whispered, your fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter as you started the car.

As soon as you arrived at Jongho’s office, you rushed down the familiar hallway, your footsteps echoing softly against the sterile walls. Your heart was pounding—not from fear this time, but from urgency. The need to feel safe, to be heard, to finally put an end to all of this.

Pushing open his office door, you stepped inside, shutting it quietly behind you. Jongho’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, his brow slightly furrowed in focus. But the soft click of the door caught his attention, and he glanced up. The moment his eyes met yours, his expression shifted instantly from neutral concentration to deep concern. He got up and went to you immediately.

You didn’t say anything at first. His gaze flickered over you, lingering on the faint red mark still visible on your cheek, then dropping to your wrist, where the faint outline of bruises peeked through your sleeve. His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t let the frustration take over this time. Instead, his eyes softened with genuine worry.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

You stared down at your feet, your hands trembling slightly in your lap, unable to meet his eyes. "It was my husband," you whispered, the words tasting bitter and heavy as they left your mouth.

Jongho exhaled slowly, his fingers curling slightly into fists on his desk before he quickly relaxed them, trying to stay calm—for you.

"Okay," he said gently, his voice a grounding force. "You’re here now. We’ll handle this. I promise." You felt just so tired; you wanted to drop on your knees and cry until you pass out. but Jongho held you by your waist softly. "If you need to cry, just let it out. It's okay." He whispered but you exhaled trying to hold it in.

"Come here," Jongho said softly, his voice filled with warmth and care. Without waiting for you to respond, he stood up and gently reached for you, pulling you into his arms.

The moment his arms wrapped around you, a wave of warmth washed over you, melting the icy grip of fear and sadness that had been clinging to you all day. His embrace was firm yet gentle, like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of you together without letting any of them slip through.

You finally look into his eyes and soon before you know it, your lips connect with his. Jongho immediately lifts you up pressing your back to the wall as he holds you up. You start making out softly, but very soon it gets heated. You wrap your hands around his neck continuing to make out with him. He is first to pull away, panting.

"I need to get back to work..." he whispers but you don't want him to stop. You need Jongho right now. You pull him into another kiss, and he soon gives back in. He lets you stand back up and you remove your blouse and bra. He exhales out and makes out with you. You grip onto his shoulders as he lowers himself down leaving small kissing on your chest and neck.

"Jongho..." You whisper, fingers tangling in his hair. Jongho grabs your waist and takes you to his chair and he lifts you up to his lap and sits on his chair. You watch him as he immediately pulls your dress skirt down along with your underwear. He sits up pushing his paperwork and computer to the side as he sets you on his table.

"You are so beautiful." He whispers kissing your lips softly as he unzips his pants. You felt the tip of his cock slip in between your folds, causing you to moan out loudly. He kisses you immediately telling you to not be so loud.

"I don't want my coworkers finding out I am not working right now..." Jongho huffs out, going back in to attach his lips on yours. You felt him start thrusting in and out slowly. Jongho pulls his lips away for a second to catch his breath as he continues moving. You look up at him trying to keep eye contact but instead you whine out covering your mouth. You see Jongho caress your face as he then proceeds to pull your hand away from your mouth. You notice a string of saliva connecting from your lips and fingers.

"I only asked you to be less loud, you can still moan..." He whispers groaning as he starts to thrust in rougher. You nod and whine at the overwhelming feeling. No matter how much you have fucked in your life, you somehow felt Jongho was still stretching you out. Jongho groans as he immediately pulls his coat off and unbuttons his shirt.

"Jongho..." You moan out now having your hands snake around his arms gripping them. Jongho smirks at your reaction seeing you completely getting destroyed underneath him. You pull his neck back towards you to kiss him and you both make out sloppily.

"Fuck... Y/N." He curses as his thrusts get sloppier. You both are a complete mess. As Jongho keeps getting rougher, you felt your entire body melt underneath him. You knew you were close to coming undone. You throw your head to the side panting loudly not caring anymore if his co-workers hear you both.

"Please..." You try to speak but you just couldn't while you were panting and moaning completely out of breath. Jongho turned your head to face him so he can keep kissing you. Not even a minute later, Jongho released inside you causing you to shiver at the feeling. He starts to slow down and soon stop but stays inside, panting and huffing heavily. Jongho's fingers run through his hair pushing it back as he pants. His chest, arms and forehead all glistening with sweat.

"Oh my god..." you chuckle softly as he pulls out leaving you cold. You sit up and wrap your arms around his neck just staring at him while panting.

"I love you..." you whisper feeling your heart beat out of your chest as you both just stare lovingly into each other's eyes. Jongho hums and his index finger wipes your bottom lip softly.

"I love you too Y/N." He sits on his chair. You smile softly at him fingers running through his hair, back of his neck. You both immediately heard a knock on the door and right away you both got dressed again. Jongho grabbed his paperwork and computer setting it back as you sat on the couch nervously trying to wipe your expressions off your faces. Jongho went to get the door and you both saw Yeosang on the other side.

"Hey! I just wanted to deliver you this, you left it at the party and Yunho thought you wouldn't..." Yeosang paused as his eyes scanned the room and saw you. You and Jongho still both looked like a mess. Yeosang went silent and just looked back at Jongho almost shocked.

"Was I interrupting something?" Yeosang whispers, eyes a bit wide. Jongho sighs and speaks, "Nope! But thank you for giving back my card." Jongho tries to keep casual, but Yeosang face shows that he knows what happened, almost giving a smug look.

"Sorry for interrupting your special meeting..." Yeosang tries to hold in his laugh as he leaves the building. Jongho glares at Yeosang and immediately shuts the door, locking it again. You look at Jongho and sigh smiling at him.

"He is right though, it was special..." You tease causing Jongho to blush.

"I need to get back to work." He tries to shut off the conversation looking away from you. He sits on his seat and go through his computer scrolling and typing stuff you don't really care or found interest in.

"Really? You don't think so?" you pout, moving closer to Jongho as your fingers gently trace over his shoulders and arms. "Funny... I could've sworn that 'I love you' meant something different," you murmur, a playful tease lacing your words. Jongho lets out a breath, trying to ignore the effect you have on him, but it's a losing battle.

"Your mood seems to have shifted," he notes, his voice steady despite the way your hand slides upward, fingers weaving through his hair and absentmindedly twirling a few strands.

"Hmm..." you hum softly, your mischievousness unmistakable.

As the day went on, Jongho finally wrapped up his work and turned to you with a warm smile, asking, "Do you want to cook dinner together tonight, or should we go out instead?"

"How is your hand by the way?" Jongho asks still concerned. You smile softly. "I think I am okay, and we can eat at home, but I would like to order take out." You look down at your hand seeing the bruise still there but didn't care. Jongho and you both went back home and Jongho was a bit silent during dinner. Not really talking until you both finished eating dinner.

"Tomorrow is the final signing... the divorce signing. You need to let him know to show up," Jongho finally spoke after dinner, his voice steady and composed. "I'll be there with you since I have to go through everything with the judge."

A wave of nervousness washed over you as the reality sank in, Jongho and your ex-husband would finally have to face each other.

"I really don't want to see him again, Jongho..." you admit, trying to keep your voice steady, but your hands begin to tremble despite your efforts. Jongho looks up at you, his expression softening as he notices your unease.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassures you, his voice gentle as he reaches out to steady your shaking hands. "I'll be there with you. He can't do anything in front of a whole room of people and a judge. You're not facing this alone."

You nod softly taking an exhale to calm yourself, you soon felt Jongho press his lips against yours softly. You leaned into the kiss as you tried deepening it. Jongho followed through and deepened the kiss. You look into his eyes softly, "I need a drink I think..." You whisper. Jongho nods at your request and gets you something to drink.

You and Jongho sat together on the sofa, the soft glow of the TV flickering across your faces as you continued to drink, one glass after another. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the show playing, a comfortable silence settling between you both.

"Y/N, I don't want you to feel overwhelmed, are you sure you are doing, okay?" Jongho asked as he saw you getting up for a 4th glass.

"Yeaaa I am fine." You huff at him pouting. You felt your mind go fuzzy as you instead chugged the bottle. Jongho sighed and got up from the sofa and walked over to you. You felt him grab your wrist softly causing you to gasp lightly. He takes the bottle from your hands and sets it down.

"I think it is time for you to go to sleep." He sighs and you stare at him angrily. You proceeded to grab his wrist with your other hand as he just looks at you with a soft gaze in his eyes.

"Y/N. Please, I hate seeing you like this. I think you need to sleep it off." Jongho sighs. You immediately kissed him almost stumbling onto him.

"What I want, is to be wrapped around you... In bed." you giggle softly. His lips tasted sweeter than ever before, maybe cause of how spicy and bitter the alcohol was. He sighed knowing how bad of a sex joke that was.

"I want you to show me how strong you are Jongho..." You bite your lip pulling him closer to you wanting to kiss him more. He leans in and softly kisses you trying to take it slow.

"If I do this, will you promise me you will go to bed after?" Jongho whispers against his kisses. You nod telling him you promise. Jongho sighs and you immediately start undressing yourself pulling your clothes off. He lifts you up and takes you to the bed.

"I need you Jongho..." You begged him to pleasure you, caressing his arm and looking softly into his eyes. Your mind felt fuzzy but filled with dirty thoughts.

"Y/N..." Jongho takes his clothes off getting on the bed with you. "I am not going to go hard; I want to show you how much I love you and just take my time with you." He says and you whine at the thought.

"Fine..." You huff out. Jongho grabs your leg wrapping it around his waist. You felt his tip press against your already soaking wet cunt. Your fingers trace around his arms as he slowly shoves himself in, cursing at the feeling.

"Jongho!" You moan out grinding your hips down trying to get more friction. He groans at your attempt to fuck yourself on him. You bite your lip as he shoves himself all the way in not leaving you time to adjust.

"I thought you said you were going to be soft." You tease giggling a bit. You face heated up as you saw the dark lust in his eyes.

"Can't believe my divorce attorney is fucking me in his bed." You laugh hiccupping completely drunk. He stares at you and rolls his eyes at your attempts to be funny. He immediately shuts you up as he starts thrusting in and out.

"Ah!" You gasp in shock not expecting him to move already, He leans down to kiss you, causing you to kiss him back. You hum and moan into the kiss which you try to turn it into a sloppy make out session, but he pulls away as he stays leaning down looking into your eyes. You hear Jongho groaning and moaning as he thrusts into you.

You throw your head to the side, arms now sliding onto his neck. You try to look at him and feel his hot breath against your face. Jongho attaches his lips to your neck as he thrusts himself in faster.

"I love you so fucking much Jongho..." You moan out nails digging into his arms.

"I love you too." He whispers as he sits back up and grips your waist slamming into you. You moan loudly almost echoing through the room.

"Jongho! I can't take it anymore!" You moan out whimpering from how extremely over pleasured you felt. His shaft was rubbing you inside in such a pleasuring feeling. You were hiccupping and moaning begging him to go harder.

"Fuck... You are making me insane..." He groans now fucking you relentlessly. Your nails were digging into his arms leaving marks on them. His lips attached to your neck leaving marks on your neck. You both were fucking each other like wild animals.

"I'm... So close Y/N..." Jongho moaned against your neck. You whimpered begging him to cum inside you. You then felt his cock twitch inside you as he then came inside.

You both panted and soon Jongho pulled himself out, laying on the bed with you. You felt him wrap his arms around you in a comforting way, making you feel safe and secure with him. Little before you knew, you slowly fell asleep with him.

•

GOOD NIGHT I WILL BE SOBBING IN MY CLOSET TONIGHT.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #jongho fanfic #jongho smut #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #jongho x y/n #choi jongho x reader

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stardustedseas · 2 days ago

Text

someday ill be able to write when and what i want and not randomly at 2 am but today is not that day ig im so sorry

nsfw 18+

cw: hybrids, dub con, afab genitals but no pronouns, slight overstimulation, shitty writing lmao

dog hybrid jayce

imagine jayce being your big, dumb doggy hybrid pet who is the most cuddly affectionate being youve ever met, always wanting to cuddle you, lay on you, have ypu pet him, just be near you in general. he is like those saint benards who think theyre lap dogs lmao its next to impossible to be alone with him around or stop him once he's decided he needs to spawl out on your lap. you did get him for how loving he is though, its nice to have someone who loves you so much, but there are still times it can be Very frustrating. sometimes you just need to be alone, have a moment to yourself without your overgrown puppy clinging to you 24/7.

although hes whiney about it, you can usually get a couple hours alone by locking yourself in the bedroom, its an at least once a week thing at this point, but jayce still sits outside the door for half of it whining and clawing at the wood before he goes to pout on the couch. youve gotten good at ignoring him honestly, as mean as that sounds. you know he is just being dramatic and its good for both of you to have some time apart, even if just for the fact it keeps you from getting too overwhelmed and lashing out at him.

usually you lock the door, spend thirty minutes to an hour ignoring his pathetic whimpering until he finally gives up and you can truly have some peace and quiet. you often take those times to destress as well, getting comfortable under the covers and letting your hands wander instead of his for once. usually you wait until hes left before starting, but god youve just had such a long, shitty day and you really need to get this pent up frustration out before you explode. jayce is still outside your door begging to be let in like always when you give in and slip your hand below the waist band of your pants. honestly, you were worried the sound of jayce outside would keep you from actually being able to actually get off, but the way his voice hightens to that needy, raspy whine he always gets when you shut him out, just does something to you this time. you do feel guilty for using his voice without him knowing, but its surprisingly getting you there faster than any porn has, and the sooner you finish, the sooner you can go back to letting him curl up on you.

this only goes on for so long though. jayce is a very big, very strong man and theres only so much a door can take. his insistant wiggling of the handle is too much and the abused metal finally gives way, allowing him to swing the door open and bound into the room, throwing himself on you before you even know whats happening. you try yelling at him to get out, squirming around and shove at his broat chest but your bear of a puppy ignores your commands and instead clings to you, wrapping his burly arms around you from over the covers and pressing you into the mattress with his weight. this must be some kind of fucked up karmic justice.

eventually you give up your struggles, embarrassed he basically caught you masterbating and frustrated from accidentally edging yourself, but decide it's best to just let him get his hugs in before trying to escape again. you sigh and try to relax, hands laying by your sides on the blacket. its not much, but you feel some satisfaction that even if he ruined your alone time, you don't have to fully give in and pretty him to. not getting to cum must not have been punishment enough though because soon jayce is back to whining, grippinhg your wrist and trying to force you to let his fluffy ears. even worse still, he had grabbed your dominant hand, the one that was just knuckle deep inside your slick walls moments ago. that spurs you into action again, trying to yank your arm back from where it was dangerously close to his hair.

this obviously upsets poor jayce though, why are you being so cruel to him? he just wants pats from his beloved owner :( he counters your movements, instead moving his head down to your hand so its cupping his cheek. he has just begun another tantrum when all of a sudden he freezes, the grip on your wrist getting a fraction tighter. you also stop for a moment, confused at his sudden change before hes yanking your hand to his nose with much more force than youre used to from him and taking in a deep, shaky inhale. you let out an admittedly indignafied squack and feel your cheeks heat up, now using your other hand to try tugging him back by his hair. this unfortunately does not help at all.

his eyes snap up to meet yours at that, gaze much darker and headier than expected and youre taken aback by how much his pupils have dilated to almost overtake the usual golden hue. you dont feel unsafe, but you do feel like youve just been spotted by a predator right before being eaten. which isnt completely untrue. neither of you move for a second, just staring, before jayce tilts his head into your hand, this time instead of to his nose, he brings your fingers to his mouth, wet tongue laving over the smaller digits. the groan he lets out the second they touch his pink muscle is downright sinful, deep and almost animalistic. he once again looks up at you, voice now a breathy rasp as he asks what was all over your hand.

youre honestly not sure what to say to that, just staring at him with your mouth slightly ajar in shock, but jayce doesn't seem to notice how mortified you are and goes back to licking at your hand. your brain finally catches up to the moment and you are able to rip yourself free from his grasp and sit up, forcing him to move as well, now just kneeling above you. that was definitely a mistake though, because he caught another whiff of that addictive scent and he's pretty sure he found the source. before you're able to get out of bed, jayce has the plush fat of your thighs in a tight grip and is yanking them apart, quickly shuffling down so his face is much closer to where you want him least in the moment.

you try to leave again, snapping a harsh no! bad boy! but this only makes him flinch a little, too entranced to really take in what you're saying besides the tone. this doesn't stop him though, moving to nuzzle his nose into your damp underwear and taking in a deep breath, his tongue lolling out of his mouth into a pant. it doesnt seem like jayce is even paying attention more, because despite your yelp and now free hands tugging his hair and pushing at his forehead, he continues his exploration. it really hits you just how strong he is, you are putting your entire being into trying to shove him away but he doesnt budge an inch, big hands still holding your legs apart despite how hard youre trying to close them.

it feels like despite your best efforts, your body is a filthy betrayer because as jayce continues to shove his nose deeper between your folds from over your underwear, you can feel them getting wetter and not just from his saliva. its when you let out a strained moan does your beloved hybrid move again, his hips bucking forward into the mattress so hard it shakes the bed. that first thrust broke the flood gates because he is now continuously rocking into the mattress, desperately humping as he licks and slobers all over your already ruined panties. youre greatful they werent one of your nicer ones when he snags the fabric between his teeth as he yanks his head back, tearing right through the slimsy fabric with a loud rip!

you yelp out his name, hands tightening in his hair again as he dives back in, your poor cunt no longer protected by the thin cloth. even though jayce has no rhythm or technique, his enthusiasm definitely makes up for it with the way he is desperately lapping all over, going from licking all around your outer lips before moving to burying his tongue deep into your hole, his nose bumping into your clit with each turn of his head as he tries to get deeper, lapping up as much slick as he can. god this is so fucked up, youre letting your hybrid pet eat you out when he obviously doesnt really know what hes doing, just chasing something that tastes good. you cant find it in yourself to really try to make him stop though, not with how good he feels as your pathetic moans harmonize with how hes whining and growling into you, his fingers definitely leaving bruisess from how hard hes gripping your thighs but you still dont care much.

maybe it's from how pent up you were, how you had unwillingly edged yourself earlier, or just from how hot jayce looks fucking into the blankets, his fluffy tail swiftly wagging behind him, but its not long before youre crying out, tugging on the soft ears atop his head as your whole body stiffness before you relax into a mess of trembles. you cumming still doesn't stop jayce though, he is still sucking and slurping away with just as much abandon as before, maybe even more so after having seen the way your back arched and you gushed more slick into his waiting mouth. you try to once more push him away, shakily gasping that its too much, youre too sensitive, but he still doenst halt.

it feels like your whole body is on fire now, unable to stop the way you keep jerking fowards and wriggling as tears prick the corner of your eyes. the way his tongue is caressing your insides and his nose continues to rub the bundle of nerves quickly turns from a slightly unpleasant pleasure to an agonizing overstimulation. you are about to try kicking him when jayce suddenly stops and lets out a strained whine, his hips stuttering to a more stiff roll before stopping, his body now shaking slightly as well. the room is now almost silent besides the hushed sound of both of your heavy panting, jayces breath fanning against your heated flesh and cooling mess between your thighs. he takes one last huff of your scent and nuzzle into the now damp curls on your mound before he is crawling back up your body and popping down over you again.

part of you wants to slap him upside the head and kick him out of your room for doing all of that, but the second his eyes lock with yours and you see his softened gaze and dopey smile, cheeks a mess of slick and spit, you decided the intense reprimanding hes gonna get can wait until later

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

im so sorry idk why the only thing i can actually complete is smut despite sucking balls at smut lawkjejdhf was working on the michael nsfw but got blasted with doggy jayce so here we are

#jayce talis x reader #arcane x reader #if you followed me for gravity falls im genuinely so sorry aiwojwhehf #i do not control the speed at which i jump hyperfixations 😔#tma still going strong but got the occasional arcane brainrot #what i post next is a mystery to me too

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