#give me suggestions and shit i like doing this

[v6quewrlds]

❝ goodies, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: ja'marr is a lot of things, subtle is not one of them. when he drops the bomb of joe's no nut november pact, it's only fair you make it as difficult for him to stick to it as possible, right?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: the idea that started this entire nnn series lol lsu joe 😵‍💫. day six of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, arkansas slander, reader is a menace, sexting, dick pic, unprotected sex, mention of the pull-out method, handjob.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lsu!joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.2k.

Your living room buzzed with the chatter of friends and the distant sounds of a video game battle royale. You leaned into the couch, your elbow digging into the cushion as you listened to Alani and Portia's latest gossip, their laughter echoing off the walls. Across from you, Joe, Ja'Marr, and Justin were huddled around the TV, controllers in hand, immersed in a digital world of basketball glory. The aroma of pizza and the occasional snort of laughter filled the air.

Ja'Marr looked up from the screen and caught your eye, a sly smile spreading across his face. "So, Joe," he said, pausing the game, "How's No Nut November treating you?"

Joe's thumbs hovered over his controller, his eyes flicking over to you before returning to the screen. "It's fine, man. No big deal."

But your ears had perked up at the mention of the infamous challenge. You felt your eyebrows furrow in reaction to Joe's participation in something so ludicrous. "No Nut November?" you echoed, your voice laced with disbelief.

Ja'Marr chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Yeah, Joe suggested we do it this season. You know, build up that testosterone for the big games."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, so you're telling me that if I showed up at your place, begging you to fuck me, you’d turn me down?” You challenged, your voice a blend of playfulness and disbelief.

Joe, ever the poker face, barely glanced away from the TV. "Well, you're not begging," he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And it's not just about saying no. It's about self-discipline."

You rolled your eyes and whispered to Alani and Portia, "Can you believe this?" The three of you stifled your laughter, exchanging knowing glances.

"Hold up," Portia said, leaning towards you, "If Joe's really into this 'No Nut November' shit, maybe we can make a bet of our own."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, like how much you think it'll take for him to crack?"

Your competitive spirit ignited. "I bet he won't make it through the week."

Alani and Portia's giggles grew louder, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Okay," Alani drawled out as she thought for a moment. "We'll bet on it. If you can get Joe to break before the week is over, we'll buy your drinks for the rest of the month. But if he makes it, you're cleaning the apartment for the month."

Your mouth twitched with a smirk. "You're on," you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. You knew Joe's resolve was iron-clad, but you had a few tricks up your sleeve.

"Are you seriously betting on my bet? That's cold, babe," Joe called out from the couch without taking his eyes off the TV, a hint of amusement in his voice. You stuck your tongue out at him before turning to your friends, your eyes gleaming with determination. "Game on," you said, raising your hand for a high five.

-

The week began with a series of subtle teases from you. You would strut into the room wearing nothing but Joe's oversized t-shirts, your bare legs leaving little to the imagination. You would bake his favorite cookies, their warm, sweet scent wafting through the apartment when he'd stop by to see you. You would casually drop sexually charged innuendos into typical conversations, watching Joe's reactions with a devilish glint in your eye.

But Joe remained unfazed, his resolve stronger than ever. Each day, he'd give you a knowing smile and say, "Good luck with that," before retreating back to his phone or his laptop. The tension grew thicker than the smell of those freshly baked cookies, and the conversations between the two of you were more heated than the Baton Rouge summer humidity.

One evening, as the week dragged on, you sat on the couch with Joe, your legs thrown over his lap, watching the latest episode of your favorite TV drama. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his muscular thighs tense beneath you. The room was dimly lit by the flickering TV screen, casting a warm glow on your faces. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his neck, whispering sweet promises and nibbling on his ear. His grip on your thigh tightened, and you knew you had his full attention.

"Come on, Joe," you purred, your voice dripping with seductive challenge. "You can't tell me you're not feeling it."

Joe's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the TV. "Babe, I'm serious. This is a commitment I made. And I'm not losing."

Your smile grew wider, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I know you're serious," you whispered, your hand sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "But I'm just saying, you've got to be close to the edge by now."

Joe's eyes darted to yours, a spark of annoyance mixed with lust. "I can handle it," he said firmly, his voice strained.

The days turned into a dance of temptation and denial. You upped your game, slipping into his apartment while he studied, dressed in his favorite set underneath an oversized hoodie, your moisturized skin glowing in the soft lamplight. You would whisper dirty thoughts in his ear, your breath tickling his skin, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants, feeling the growing bulge beneath. Each time, Joe would push you away with a gruff laugh, calling you relentless.

But you were more determined than ever. You knew Joe's weaknesses, the way he liked his kisses—needy, all tongue as you moaned into each other's mouths—and the way his eyes would glaze over when you touched him just right.

-

One evening, you decided to bring in the big guns. As you sat side by side in your bedroom, you leaned over and whispered, "Babe, I need you to help me with something."

Joe looked up from his laptop, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. "What's up?"

You bit your bottom lip, your heart racing. "I can't focus on my homework," you whined, your voice low and seductive. "I'm just too distracted."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "What do you need my help with?"

You leaned closer, your hand sliding onto his thigh. "Well, you know what usually helps me focus..." You trailed off, your eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze again.

Joe sighed, setting his laptop aside. "You're not playing fair," he said, though the smirk on his face betrayed the seriousness of his words. You giggled as you shrugged playfully. "But I need you, Joe. I really do."

The air grew thick with tension as Joe contemplated his options. He knew he was close to breaking, and your touch was making it increasingly difficult to hold out. You slid your hand up to his waistband, your thumb brushing against the bulge that had formed in his shorts. His breath hitched, his resolve wavering like a candle in a storm.

"Babe, I can't. You know the rules," Joe murmured, trying to ignore the heat building in his pants. But you weren't one to back down easily. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. "Please, Joe. Just a little bit," you begged, your voice a seductive purr.

Joe's hand shot up, gripping the back of your neck firmly, his eyes flashing with desire. "Babe, you're going to be the death of me," he groaned.

Your grin grew even wider, your brown eyes sparkling with mischief. You sat up, straddling him, your hips pressing into his lap. "Is that a yes?"

Joe's gaze drifted down to your full lips before he pushed you away, a little too roughly, his breathing ragged. "Nope. Not happening," he said, his voice finding its gruff firmness.

You pouted, your eyes glinting with determination. "Come on, Joe, I'm begging," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and desperation.

Joe leaned back, his hand still on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. "You know I can't," he said, his voice strained.

You leaned in, your breasts brushing against his chest. "But baby, I'm horny," you whined, your voice dripping with exaggerated need.

Joe's eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. "You're always horny."

You rolled your eyes as you shifted away from the bed, Joe's smug grin following you. "Fine," you said, pouting. "But you know this isn't over."

Joe chuckled, standing up and stretching. "I'll make it up to you after the month's over," he promised, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

-

By Friday night, you were more than ready to throw in the towel on your little bet. Joe would be playing against Arkansas Saturday night, and you knew he would practically be MIA most of the day. Sitting in the living room of your apartment, you had all but accepted defeat.

"You know what," you said to Alani and Portia, "I think I'm gonna lose."

Your friends exchanged knowing glances, their smiles smug. "You can't give up now," Alani said, nibbling on a slice of pizza. "You're so close to breaking him."

Portia nodded in agreement, her eyes glued to the TV. "Besides, the game's tomorrow. They're playing an SEC rival tomorrow, he might get caught up in the adrenaline and forget all about the challenge."

You scoffed. "Yeah, because Joe Burrow—Joe Cool if you will—is just gonna forget about his sacred 'No Nut November' because they beat Arkansas... a trash SEC team." But deep down, you knew they had a point. The pressure was on, and you had one last shot to win the bet.

That night, as the clock ticked closer to midnight, you lay on the couch, scrolling through your phone. Your mind was unable to focus on the trash reality show that had become a Friday night tradition for the three roommates. Alani and Portia were sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by snack wrappers and empty soda cans, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked down to see a text from Joe. Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message.

You're home, right?

You responded, playing it cool.

Yeah, why?

Good.

Came his curt reply, followed by a photo that made you gasp. It was a picture of Joe's covered but visibly erect length, straining against the fabric of his shorts. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight, your pulse quickening.

Your boyfriend had never been one to send many pictures of himself, let alone pictures that bordered on nudes. You felt a thrill of victory run through you as you realized Joe was finally cracking under the pressure.

You texted back, your thumbs flying over the screen.

Oh, is that for me?

Joe's response was swift.

Yeah, it is. Fuck No Nut November.

The words sent a jolt of excitement through your body. You looked over at your roommates, who were now watching you with confused expressions.

"Joe just sent me a dick pic," you sang, rising to your feet, the excitement in your voice palpable.

Alani and Portia's laughter abruptly cut off, their eyes snapping to you in disbelief. "Wait, what?" Alani squealed, reaching for your phone. You dodged her hand, holding the device away with a grin.

Your phone pinged again with another incoming text from Joe.

Open the door.

Your eyes gleamed with victory as you strutted over to the door, your hips swaying with confidence. You threw it open to reveal Joe standing in the hallway, his expression a mix of frustration and need. He stepped into the apartment without saying a word, his eyes locked onto yours.

Your boyfriend was a beautiful man. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, clocking in well over 6 feet tall, with a gorgeous smile. But as he towered over you in the doorway, visibly frustrated with pink brushes of color over the bridge of his nose and the apples of his Louisiana sun-tanned cheeks, you couldn't help but feel as if he'd never been more beautiful.

"You told them?" Joe's voice was a mix of annoyance and amusement as he stepped into the apartment, closing the door firmly behind him, hand already reaching for the flesh of your hip. You nodded, unable to suppress the wide grin on your face.

"You sent me a dick pic, Joseph Burrow," you said with a smirk, leaning into his broad frame. The sight of him standing there, looking so flustered and needy, had your heart racing.

Joe rolled his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening. "I know," he said, his voice gruff. "I’ll get you guys your 20 bucks in a minute. Right now, I’ve got something more important to handle."

With that, he scooped you into his arms, his eyes dark with desire. You squealed with surprise, your friends’ laughter trailing behind the two of you as Joe carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door shut.

Alani and Portia giggled, retreating to the front door to give you two space. "Take all the time you need, we’ll find somewhere else to spend the night. Just don’t break the bed!" Alani called out as she closed the door behind her, leaving you and Joe alone in the apartment.

The room was bathed in a soft moonlight, the only sound was the rustling of your clothes as Joe laid you on the bed. He hovered over you, his gaze intense as he reached for the hem of your shirt. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched Joe's strong, calloused hands peel away the layers of fabric, revealing your bare skin. His touch was like fire, leaving trails of heat wherever he went.

"So, Mr. Self-discipline," you smirked up at Joe as he hovered above you, the bed creaking under your combined weight, "What lesson have we learned this week?"

Joe's eyes narrowed in mock anger as he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down. "The only lesson I've learned is that you're a distraction," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your laughter turned into a breathy moan as Joe's mouth found your neck, kissing and sucking as he worked his way down your body. His hands skimmed over your curves, igniting a trail of pleasure that made your toes curl. You felt his erection press against your thigh, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"I think we've both learned some things," you whispered, arching your back as Joe's teeth grazed your collarbone. His hands moved your hair away from your face to trail his kisses down to the valley between your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you couldn't help but whimper. "But the most important one is that I always win," you said, your voice filled with triumph.

Joe chuckled darkly, his eyes meeting yours as he peeled your panties away from your skin. "We'll see about that," he murmured, his voice a mix of challenge and lust. He held back a groan of appreciation as he took in the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening with need.

Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until it was over his head, revealing his broad, muscular chest. You traced the lines of his obliques with your fingertips, feeling his muscles tighten beneath your touch. Joe leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth with the same urgency that was building between your thighs.

He broke the kiss to pull his shorts off, his erection springing free, standing tall and proud. You licked your lips as you took in the sight of him, feeling a fresh wave of arousal wash over you.

Joe leaned over you, his breath warm and minty as he whispered, "You're so needy, baby. Couldn't go a week without me, huh?" You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you didn't deny it. Your body was begging for his touch, your pussy throbbing with anticipation.

You smiled into the kiss he pressed to your lips. "Not as much as you, clearly."

Joe's smirk grew into a grin as he hovered above you, his cock standing proudly at attention. "Clearly," he murmured, his hand moving down to stroke your thigh, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner leg.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Joe's touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing the edge of your pussy. You were already wet for him, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. "You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

"Show me how much you've missed me, Joey," you urged, your voice breathy.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes a stormy sea of blue. Then, with a curse, he gave in, pushing inside you with one swift stroke that made you arch off the bed with pleasure. Your nails dug into the sheets, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He was thick, and you felt every inch of him, filling you completely.

"Fuck," Joe groaned, burying his face in your neck. His hips began to move, setting a rhythm that had your toes curling and your legs shaking. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. The friction was exquisite, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you both started spiraling towards your climaxes.

Your hands trailed up from his back into the strands of his hair, his hips beginning to set a relentless pace that sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that mirrored your own. You moaned his name, urging him on, your breath coming in pants that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Jesus, babe," Joe grunted, his movements growing more erratic as he continued working you both to your orgasms. You could feel the muscles in his arms tensing, his hand reached down to draw your thigh to rest against his waist. His fingers squeezed at the soft, supple flesh until you knew you'd have bruises in the morning.

But you didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of him inside you and the way he filled you so completely.

Your moans grew louder, filling the room as you gave in to the pleasure that had been denied for too long. You felt his muscles tense, his grip on your thigh tighten, and knew he was close to losing his battle against the bet.

"You're gonna break, baby," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. "You're gonna lose the challenge."

Joe's eyes snapped to yours, a challenge gleaming in your depths. "Don't you fucking start with that shit right now," he growled, his breathing ragged despite the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Joe groaned, the sound of pure agony and pleasure as he fought the urge to come too quickly. Your eyes glittered with excitement, your heart racing as you watched him struggle. But you weren't about to let him win.

He had hell to pay for making you wait.

You slid your hand down between your bodies, your fingertips circling your clit as Joe's cock hit just the right spot inside you. The combination was electric, and you could feel the beginnings of your orgasm building.

Your laugh was breathless, a sweet sound that seemed to push him closer to the edge. You sat up, your breasts bouncing with the movement, and kissed him deeply, your tongue dancing with his.

Joe’s eyes rolled back into his head, a low groan escaping his throat. He could feel his self-control slipping away, the pressure building to a crescendo that he hadn’t felt in weeks. He knew he was going to lose this bet, but he also knew it was going to be more than worth it.

"Let me know when you need to pull out." your voice seemed to curl around him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you watched Joe’s face contort with pleasure.

"Fuck off, you’re enjoying this way too much," Joe murmured, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back. "You're on the pill, remember?" He continued, his voice strained as he pushed into you deeper.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you nodded, your hands running over his back. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your hips rocking into his. "But I'm not ready to bring a little light-skinned baby into this world."

Joe groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "Goddamn, babe," he warned, his voice strained. "Can't say shit like that when I'm about three seconds away from making it a reality."

"Pull out, dummy," you laughed, knowing he just wanted to prolong the inevitable.

He pulled out with a gasp, his cock glistening with your arousal. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, your body begging for more. But you knew the game was still on.

He hissed out a strained, "Fuck," and your eyes widened as you watched Joe’s hand wrap around his throbbing cock, the veins bulging with the painful pulse of his ruined orgasm. The sight of his angry, red tip was almost too much for you to handle, but you bit your lip, keeping your own desire in check. He leaned over the side of the bed, reaching to pull out a condom from the stash in the nightstand.

With trembling fingers, he tore the packet open and rolled it over his erection. The anticipation was killing you, and you could feel your pussy clenching, begging for him to fill you up again.

"Get on top," Joe ordered, his voice gruff with need. You didn’t miss a beat, straddling him and sliding back onto his cock with a moan that seemed to resonate through your very bones. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

Your hands braced on his chest, you began to move, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Joe’s eyes crossing with pleasure. The head of his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, and you could feel your orgasm building again. You threw your head back, your hair cascading down your back like a waterfall of chocolate silk.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. Your breath grew ragged as you worked yourself closer to the edge, your eyes crafting a hazy image of Joe in his bliss. You could see the need in his gaze, the desire that was just barely being contained.

Joe’s hands roamed over your body, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples until they were pebbled and sensitive. He rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched your face contort with pleasure.

You leaned forward, your breasts pressing against his chest as you kissed him again, your tongue delving into his mouth with a hunger that matched his. You could feel Joe’s body tensing beneath you, his muscles straining as he held back his release. You broke the kiss, panting, your eyes locked on his.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, baby," Joe murmured against your neck as your hips rolled faster, your breaths coming in pants. He could feel the tightness of your pussy clamping down around him, your walls fluttering with the beginnings of your climax. His own release was barreling towards him like a freight train, the pressure in his balls becoming almost painful.

"Pain in my ass, but so fucking beautiful. "Joe’s voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as his hands moved to your ass, urging you to ride him harder.

You laughed wholeheartedly, a sweet sound that seemed to push Joe closer to the edge. You leaned back, your hands on his thighs, and increased your pace, feeling him swell inside you with every thrust. The sight of you bouncing on him, your pussy clenching around his cock, and your breasts engaged in their own mesmerizing dance, was almost too much.

"Don’t hold back, Joey, I can take it," you teased, your voice thick with lust as you continued to ride him with wild abandon.

Joe's eyes rolled back, and a guttural groan escaped his lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, pushing you to the brink of his own release. The tension in the room was palpable, an intense mix of desire and competition that seemed to fuel your passion even further.

You threw your head back, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you felt Joe's cock swell even more. You knew he was close, and you reveled in the power you had over him.

"Do it," you breathed out, your voice a command. "Come for me, baby."

Joe nodded frantically, eyes closing. Then with a whimper, he let go, his hot seed spilling into the condom. Your own orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. You remained like that for a few moments, your bodies entwined, breathing heavily as you both came down from your shared highs.

You collapsed onto Joe's chest, your heart racing. You felt his chest heave with his breaths, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of victory. You had won the bet, and more importantly, you had Joe's full attention again. You kissed him softly, your hand stroking his sweaty hair.

After a moment, you pulled back, your eyes twinkling with triumph. "How are you gonna explain this to Ja’Marr and Justin?" You asked, a smug smile playing on your lips.

Joe rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face despite his defeat. "I'll think of something. Maybe I'll say you’re a witch with magical pussy powers," he quipped, earning a playful smack from you.

"Asshole," you said with affection, snuggling into him. "You’re so gross."

Joe chuckled, his arms tightening around you. "But you love me anyway."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a sweet echo in the quiet room. "Unfortunately, I do."

The two of you lay together, basking in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, the only sound was your mingled breaths and the distant murmur of Baton Rouge outside. Joe separated from your warmth briefly to get rid of the soiled condom. You could feel his dick pulsing gently as it rested against your thigh, the reminder of his release. It was a feeling you hadn't felt in a while, and it brought a sense of contentment that you hadn't realized you had been missing.

Finally, Joe spoke up, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You know, I should be mad at you."

You pulled back slightly, your smile fading into a look of concern. "Mad? Why?"

Joe sighed, his grip on you loosening. "Because you didn’t even give me a chance to win. You played dirty."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "But you love it when I play dirty." You wiggled your hips, feeling him harden against your thigh once more.

Joe groaned, his grip tightening again. "You're going to be the death of me," he said, though his voice held a playful lilt.

You giggled, leaning in for another kiss. "But what a way to go," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Joe's chuckle was strained, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his orgasm. "True," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut as your kisses turned gentle, exploring his jaw and neck.

Your fingertips trailed over his chest, tracing the muscles that had flexed so beautifully under your touch just moments before. Slowly they trailed down to his semi-hard cock, which twitched at the contact. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, your nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin.

Joe groaned, his smile growing wicked. "You're not helping." A large hand dipped down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before smacking it lightly. You giggled, the sound spurring his already raging libido.

Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him with the same skill that had driven him to distraction the entire week. "What if I don't want to help?" you whispered, your eyes full of challenge.

Joe's eyes snapped open, his smirk turning predatory. "You're playing a dangerous game, babe." But the twitch in his cock told you he enjoyed it.

Your hand stroked him more firmly now, your thumb circling the sensitive head. "Isn't that what you love about me?" you purred, feeling the beginnings of his arousal building again.

Joe groaned, his eyes closing briefly as he fought the urge to let go again. "You're a menace," he murmured, his voice a mix of pleasure and exasperation.

"And you love it," you whispered, leaning down to kiss him again. Your hand never stopped moving, your touch growing more insistent as you felt him swell beneath you.

Joe’s eyes snapped open, a smoldering look in their depths. "Maybe," he conceded, his voice thick with lust.

Your smirk grew into a full-blown smile, your hand picking up the pace. The feel of him in your hand was intoxicating, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. "Maybe?" you teased, your voice rising in mock innocence.

"Fine, I love it," Joe groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your strokes. "But you're going to pay for this."

With a flourish, Joe eased away from your hand and flipped you both over. You found yourself pinned beneath him, his eyes dark with desire. He reached over into the nightstand, grabbing another condom to replace the discarded one sitting in the small trashcan beside the bed.

"Oh, really?" you challenged, your voice laced with excitement. "And what do you plan to do to me?"

Joe's eyes glinted in the moonlight as he leaned over you, his teeth grazing your neck. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight," he murmured, his cock nudging against your entrance.

Your eyes widened with excitement, your pussy already slick with anticipation. "Is that a promise?" you whispered, your voice breathless.

"You bet your sweet ass it is," Joe said, his voice a low growl as he pushed into you again. Your walls clenched around him, and he had to bite back a moan at the feeling. He’d missed this, missed you, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass without making it count.

He began to move, slow and deep, watching as your eyes glazed over with pleasure. Your nails dug into his back, leaving half-moons on his skin. Your moans grew louder with every stroke, and Joe knew he had you exactly where he wanted you. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all passion and possession, his tongue dancing with yours as your hips met in a rhythm that seemed to be choreographed by fate itself.

The room grew hot, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the faint hint of your perfume. The only light came from the moon, casting a soft glow over your tangled limbs. Your breath grew ragged, your moans turning to whimpers as Joe hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You felt your orgasm building again, a wave ready to crash over you at any moment.

But Joe wasn’t done with you yet. His hips picked up speed, his strokes becoming more forceful as he claimed your body once again. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back as you matched his rhythm, urging him deeper. Your nails scored his back, leaving red lines in their wake as the intensity grew.

"Such a greedy girl," Joe murmured against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. He could feel you tighten around him, your pussy begging for release. He didn’t plan to give it to you just yet. He wanted to savor the feeling of you beneath him, savor the way you moaned his name like a prayer.

"Couldn’t let me go for a month, huh? Just had to have my cock fuckin' split you open, huh?" Joe grunted, his rhythm becoming erratic as his own release built.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing coming in short gasps. "Y-yes," you managed to whimper out.

Joe’s smirk grew wider, his cock swelling even more inside you. He knew you were close, your pussy clenching around him. He reached between you, his thumb finding your clit, and began to rub it in small circles as he continued to fuck you hard. Your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at him with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"Joe, I’m gonna—fuck, yes!" Your voice was a breathy whisper, your body trembling with anticipation.

Joe’s own need was palpable, his strokes becoming more urgent as he felt your walls tighten around him. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much I’ve been neglecting you." He growled, his voice a low rumble that made your insides clench.

Your eyes snapped open, meeting Joe’s intense gaze as you felt yourself teeter on the edge. The orgasm built, a crescendo of pleasure that made your toes curl and your body tighten. With a scream, you shattered, your pussy clenching around Joe’s cock in a vice-like grip that had him groaning in ecstasy. He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you with his hot cum, the feeling of him losing control only adding to your own pleasure.

Your heart raced, your chest heaving with every breath. Joe leaned in, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "You win, baby. You always win."

You grinned, your eyes still hazy with passion. "Damn right, I do."

You lay there basking in the afterglow, your bodies sticky with sweat and the scent of sex filling the room. Eventually, Joe rolled off you, his cock slipping out with a wet sound, his cum coating the material of the condom. He disposed of the second soiled condom and then collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving. You couldn’t help but admire the view, his muscles defined and glistening from the exertion.

"Fuck, I needed that," Joe mumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You chuckled, turning onto your side to face him. "You say that every time we fuck, but it’s like you forget how good it is when you go on those stupid bets," you teased, playfully poking his chest.

Joe caught your hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. "Maybe I need the bets to remind me how much I miss this when I’m not getting it," he said, his voice still rough from his orgasm.

Your eyes searched his, and you could see the truth in them. Despite the teasing, you knew he enjoyed the challenge you presented, and the thrill of the chase was just as much a part of your relationship as your intimate moments of passion. You leaned in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a gentle caress that spoke of something deeper than the physical connection you had just shared.

As you two lay there, your hearts slowly returning to a steady beat, your mind raced with the implications of your victory. You had won the bet, but more importantly, you had proven to Joe that you could break through his walls of self-control. It was a dizzy feeling, one that filled you with a newfound sense of power in your relationship.

"So, what do I get for winning?" you asked, your voice still husky from your love-making.

Joe chuckled, his chest rising and falling with his breaths. "What do you want?" he replied, his eyes playfully challenging yours.

You pretended to think for a moment, your hand tracing a line down Joe’s chest. "How about you never make a stupid bet like that again?" you suggested with a cheeky smile.

Joe rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face betrayed his amusement. "Okay, fine, I’ll never do a No Nut November again if you promise to leave my fantasy football league alone," he countered, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.

Your eyes lit up with mischief. "You’re an NCAA athlete, you shouldn’t be betting in the first place."

"Hey, a guy’s gotta have fun somehow," Joe said with a grin. He kissed you again, his hand resting innocently on your body for the first time that week.

Your smile turned sly. "Well, you definitely had your fun tonight. I’m surprised you have anything left in you after that performance."

Joe’s grin turned wolfish, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "Oh, don’t you worry, baby. I’ve got plenty more where that came from." His hand trailed down to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before sliding up to cup your ass. You giggled, squirming against him.

"That’s enough for tonight, Joseph. Maybe if you win tomorrow’s game, I’ll consider it," you teased, playfully swatting his hand away.

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his competitive spirit riled up. "Against Arkansas? Babe, have some faith in me, holy shit," he said, his voice a low rumble as you both laughed. "But when I win, you’re all mine for the weekend. No distractions, no friends, just you and me."

Your pulse quickened at the thought of an uninterrupted weekend of Joe’s undivided attention. "Can't wait," you whispered.

[hoshifighting]

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

[bratzbrat]

✟The Witch Hunter!

pairing: witch!hunter! Katsuki Bakugo x fem!'witch' reader.

cw: arguments!, mentions of death!, female reader!, possibly a little angst?, flirting/teasing.

2.1k words.

not proofread... I was too excited to post it...

⊰𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ⊱ »»————> Resentment.

"drakthar."

"ferai?"

"oh i know! tira'shal!" you spewed suggestions at the little lizard on your neck. only to get head tilts as a response.

"y'tryin' to cast a spell 'er some shit? the fuck're ya sayin'..." the disheveled blonde cringed at the foreign words rolling off your tongue.

"trying to give him a name, no thanks to you." you huffed, mumbling the second half before you asked, "do you... have a name?" and he stopped in his tracks causing you to bump into his back with a "oof".

"stop it." he muttered, still faced away from you.

"hmm? did I say something wrong?" you tried walking in front of him to see if you could read his reaction or expression... but he just bowed his head, shying away from looking at you.

as you were led further into forest, the hunter cast irritated glances over his shoulder now and then, while you kept pace with the tiny dragonet nestled on your shoulders, each small, nervous chirp making the hunter frown deeper.

then you stumble upon another village left in ruins... empty houses sat shrouded in shadows, their broken roofs and warped doors left to the elements... the clearing was surrounded by lush grass and overgrown vines, that reached for the rotting wood of the houses.

"are all villages like this in Solgrad?" you asked, eyes scanning the area curiously, hoping to see at least one other person...

the hunter's hand instinctively dropped to his sword, as his eyes narrowed,"I know this place..." he muttered, "an' 's got witch stench all over it," looking back to glare at you.

you raised a brow, looking between him the silent homes. "what's that supposed to mean?" you huffed, crossing your arms.

"tch. yer kind left this place like this." he started forward, stepping over broken mud tiles and splintered wood.

oh... "maybe they were protecting themselves. or protecting others." you glanced at the dragonet, who nuzzled against you, leaving little coos in your ears.

he shot you a glare over his shoulder. "yer awfully fond o' defendin' 'em, witch. what kinda fool d'ya think I am?"

you returned his look, expression softening, just a bit. "someone who's already seen enough pain to understand why people might lash out when they're afraid..."

"i don' care why they lash out—only that they do. 'n that's reason enough to end it." he paused, squinting at the distant remains of a once-grand hall, where charred beams and stone foundations were all that remained. "tell me, then—what's 'protectin' in yer world? 'cause from where i stand, 'protectin' means leavin' scars like this."

you stopped, the weight of his words settling over you as you took in the deserted hall, the way its emptiness seemed to echo the hunter's distrust. "protection isn't always easy," you said quietly. "and I'm sure neither is hunting."

he clicked his tongue and looked away, irritation crossing his face as he muttered, "yer preachin' don' change facts, witch. wouldn't trust ya' not to leave one o' these places in ruins if ya' had half a mind to."

"that's what i've been trying to tell you." you countered, voice steady. "i wouldn't."

a bitter laugh was his only response, amused at your convincing, and he looked back at the dragonet clinging to you, "draggin' that scaly nuisance with us don' mean it'll be grateful y'know. world ain't exactly praisin' life to his kind either." contempt lingering in his eyes. "showin' it 'mercy' is gonna get ya' in more trouble."

the dragonet let out a timid chirp, burrowing closer as if sensing his hostility. "i'm already in trouble for just being alive..." you stroked its head gently, offering it silent reassurance. "no one can stop me from helping him. not even you, hunter." you replied, your voice calm.

he scoffed, "don' come cryin' to me when it turns on ya'." he turned back to the path ahead, his tone half-challenging, half-resigned. "hell, wouldn't surprise me one bit."

your gaze softened as you watched him stride through the abandoned village, with his broad shoulders filled with tension. you could see the pain in him—layered under his sharp words and pride. it was a pain unlike the scars left on the broken homes around you. he still lived in it, raw and unmended.

the path through the village ruins seemed endless, each step muffled by thick layers of ash and decay and you watched his captivating, vermilion eyes swept over the deserted little houses.

"this is what yer kind brings." his voice was low and bitter, as he glanced back at you with forced narrowed eyes. "yer no different. just another danger, waitin' to strike."

"is that so?" you hummed, sidling closer. "the more you speak of my people, the more you sound like you're trying to convince yourself something." you leaned in just enough to catch the faintest flicker of his discomfort. "guess you can't help yourself, hm?"

"tch." he scoffed, looking away sharply, his grip on his sword tightening for stability. "yer full of shit, witch." he paused, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "an' yer damn lucky that's all yer full of."

you laughed softly, "so you keep saying. but somehow, i'm still here," you countered, keeping your tone light despite the ache forming in your chest.

his jaw clenched, "witches = curses." he spat, as if the words themselves were poison. "this—this's the toll yer kind leaves behind." he gestured around, his voice laced with bitterness, "all that power, an' for what? t'leave towns like this 'til there's nothin' left." he shook his head, gaze hardening as he looked at you. "if yer really so different, then prove it." he whispered, almost to himself, the slightest sound of desperation replacing his usual bite... " 'cause all i see 's another risk i shoulda put down the moment i caught ya'." and he averted his eyes, as if the sight of you was hurting him.

you swallowed, biting back tears as he stood in front of you. "maybe if you stopped looking at me like a hunter, you'd see that I mean you no harm." you forced your voice to stay steady, refusing to let his words cut deeper than they already had. "some of us—most of us—don't want anything to do with this kind of ruin." you didn't know why you tried so hard to convince him. or why you felt his words hit you where it hurts. and your dragon nuzzled your cheek.

he snorted, turning away again. "say that all ya' want, but i ain't stupid." his voice was low, cold. "ain't no witch ever just 'wants peace.' it always ends in the same damn thing—trouble." he shot you a sidelong glance. " 'n yer just waitin' fer the right moment to cause it."

"is that why you're keeping me so close?" you retorted, "is that why you took off my chains?" you raised your hands, "for me to do something that proves you right?!" raising your voice, like you were mocking him. "are you hoping i'll break under the weight of your words?" your tone lowered again.

"watch it." he growled, stepping closer to look right down at you. "yer nothin' but my next bag o' coin, witch. 'n that's all ya' ever gonna be."

you forced a laugh, though it felt more bitter than anything else. "or maybe, you're just afraid i'm right." you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile.

his scowl darkened, flickering between you and your dragon, but he said nothing, his silence louder than any argument. his gaze lingered on you, hard and searching, as if daring you to slip, to reveal some hidden malice. you stared back, heart pounding, refusing to break eye contact.

he huffed and turned away from you, walking off and heading out of the deserted village, back into the dense forest. you walked for hours, until your feet was beginning to feel like it would fall off. but your little friend was as bright eyed as ever, running through your feet with each step you took, chittering like giggles escaping his snout.

and finally, after what felt like forever, you heard the faint sound of indistinct chatter... the hunter found a small town. a cluster of wooden buildings nestled between rugged hills, with the faint flicker of lanterns casting a warm glow against the stone paths. people scurried the streets, rushing to their homes and shutting their doors. and the hunter's hand stayed firmly on the hilt of his sword as the two of you inced closer.

"tch. they're prob'ly hidin' from yer witchness." he muttered, in an attempt to tease you, as his gaze scanned the town. "it's best we don' linger long."

"was that a joke?" you said, rolling your eyes. "they're probably, just as likely hiding from you, you know. you don't exactly scream 'friendly visitor'."

he side eyed you, "the hell would they be scared o' me for?"

you raised a brow, smirking. "please, with all that glaring and stomping around with your hand on your sword..." you gestured around dramatically, letting out a playful sigh. "i'm innocent compared to you." and you giggled, looking at his weirded out expression, with your dragon hugged onto his leg, excited chirps emitting from it as he tried to shake him off.

he scoffed, failing to shake him off, "ain't nothin' innocent 'bout ya," he muttered, looking at you up and down, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes before he turned his attention back to overgrown lizard, still clinging to his leg.

"aww," you laughed, watching the baby snuggle his leg and make 'puppy eyes' up at him.

he aggressively pointed at it, "well, don' jus' stand there cacklin', get it off me."

"he likes you." you cooed, as you stepped closer, adding an exaggerated sway to your steps. "he's got horrible taste in people already..." and he jumped off the hunter, and scurried onto you, making himself comfortable around your hips, like a cute belt.

"c'mon. we better get a room before it gets any later." he said, motioning to follow behind as he walked toward the first inn he saw.

"you really can't help yourself around me, can you?" you winked, teasingly striding behind him into the inn.

"keep talkin' like that, 'n we'll see how I help myself with you sleepin' outside," he grumbled, but he didn't pull his gaze from you, his eyes narrowed with an exasperation that almost, almost, bordered on something softer.

inside the inn he chose, was dimly lit, with a smoky warmth that smelled of old wood and stale ale. a few patrons looked up as you entered, but most quickly returned to their drinks.

the innkeeper eyed you both curiously as you approached the counter. "need rooms, or just passin' through?" she asked, gaze lingering on you until your captor cleared his throat.

"two rooms. just fer the night." his tone was clipped, giving no room for conversation.

"aw, two rooms?" you pouted, giving him a mockingly disappointed look. "afraid you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself this time?"

"don' flatter yerself," he grunted, ignoring you as he tossed a few shards of your armour on the counter. "two rooms."

you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh, leaning close just enough to keep the innkeeper's attention. "he likes to pretend he doesn't want me around." you shook your head, then nodded to him standing next to you, "should've seen him last ni-"

"shut it." he cutt you off, resting a hand on your lower back, "now. where're our rooms?" his attention shifted to the innkeeper.

she looked between you two, brows raised, "upstairs. an' try to keep the noise down." she smirked at you, winking. but he merely glared back, shoving you away and up the stairs.

"don' go causin' trouble for me." he huffed, hand still on your back. but you didn't remind him to move it.

you flashed him a wicked grin. "you really think i'm capable of that?" and sarcastically gasped.

"i know ya' are. 'n i ain't dumb enough to trust yer ass not to curse me while i'm sleepin' or some shit." he looked you up and down. a gesture he's started doing more often than not.

"mhmm, suit yourself, blondie," you murmured, turning on your heel and making your own way up the stairs, the key clinking softly in your hand. but before you disappeared, you cast him a quick look over your shoulder, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "don't miss me too much."

his jaw and fists tightened, scowl deepening as he watched you go. "yer full o' it, y'know that?" and he slammed his room door shut behind him.

find the previous chapters in my masterlist!

you can also comment to be added to the taglist. if i'm unable to tag ya then you could just follow the #bratzbrat♡thewitchhunter tag down below.

plz check ur privacy settings before commenting to be tagged!

©𝐵𝑙𝑢♡

»»————> 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@annepamgkrth @pikachuzhc @icedemon1314 @d1orhaz3 @alyssasblogthings @katsucookies @hashahasha @mythicalmo @k0z3me @nanaanatiion @queenpuppy23

[peppermintquartz]

If you're still taking prompts, I want someone unexpected to yell (or gently berate, whatever) some sense into Tommy. Like Eddie is the obvious person, but what about, like, Hen? Actually, I was going to suggest others, but now I kinda want to read Hen's version, especially in light of that "intentions" conversation...

"You're a dick. I get why you did what you did, but you're a dick."

Tommy glances up from the magazine he's holding. The dental clinic's mostly empty, and the receptionist only spares them a glance. "Hey, Hen. Wasn't expecting to see you." He takes in her loose stance and relaxes slightly. "You look good."

"You look like shit. Bet you feel like it too." Hen sits down next to him. The silence is weighted. "I know where you're coming from, though. When one really bad experience makes you afraid to trust." She sighs. "With Eva... Well. I got Denny out of it."

Tommy can't pretend to look at his magazine any longer. "How is he?"

"Pretending he's fine. The way you are." She pats his shoulder. "And who knows? Maybe one day you both would be fine for real. But do you really want Buck to be the one you regret, Tommy?"

That question spears right through all of Tommy's shields. He swallows, his jaw twitching.

"Tommy."

"Yeah?"

"I remember you said that you were going at his pace. But it's your relationship too. If he was going too fast, you had every right to tell him to slow down." Hen drums her fingers on her knee. "Be honest with him. That's what's fair to you both. Figure out what you both want, okay? But don't let your fear keep you from what could be real happiness."

As if giving him an example, she tilts her phone screen at him - Karen, Denny, Mara and Hen, big smiles on their faces.

"Say hi to Karen and the kids for me," Tommy says. He smiles up at her. "Thanks. And, uh, sorry. About Buck."

Hen snorts. "If you're not doing major dental work later, you can buy me lunch after this. And then, you text him and you ask to talk."

The receptionist calls out, "Mr Kinard? Dr Bay will see you now."

"I'll wait," Hen says, taking the magazine from his hands.

[ninupi]

firsts | s. nagi

₊˚⊹♡ tw; fem!reader, sloooow burn(?) lol, making out,a little suggestive towards the end, slight insecurities, mention of reader wearing a skirt(?), like one mention of reo, nagi being a bit negligent lol

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 1600+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; omg my first fic/drabble(idk ahhhh) please leave lots of feedback, just dont be too mean ;( anyways please enjoy lol. also idk just thought about how nagi would act within the first few months of you guys dating, also I didnt mean for it to drag on for so long(?) but I dont feel like nagi would just jump straight into it either loll also I quickly proofread so there may be some mistakes but ill go through again thoroughly later!

You and nagi had only been dating for two months, for you at least. When you had confessed he also confessed that he thought that the two of you were already dating. But after a long talk you figured everything out, only now he still acts the same way with you.

It doesn't necessarily bother you, but you do get a bit antsy whenever your friends ask about how things are going between the two of you. Especially when it gets into the territory of kissing, you're not even sure if the thoughts crossed nagi's mind.

The thought has been plaguing your mind since you woefully admitted to your friends that the two of you haven't even shared your first kiss & there being no sign of it happening soon.

They had teased you the rest of the lunch period saying things like "that's what you get for going for a guy like him" and although they had a point it still kind of bothered you.

But sitting here now, you understand what your friends mean. You had asked nagi to give you an hour to finish your homework then you'd hang out with him. Unlike him, who waits to the last minute to do his homework & still getting perfect marks, you actually had to pay attention.

He whined but eventually plopped on your bed distracting himself with a game on his phone. Now you've been sitting at your desk for 30 minutes while he tells you "one more round..."

"You said that the last round nagi" you groan standing up to stretch your legs, he doesn't respond too focused on his phone. He gives you brief glance over when you shove his legs a bit further onto your bed to take a seat but quick goes back to his phone.

"Last one, swear- shit" you try to hide the grin on your face when you see the red reflecting off his snowy hair. He groans while shutting his phone off & laying it on his chest with his other arm draped over his eyes.

"Last round, right?" you tease while softly rubbing his shin "yeah, last round" he mutters not bothering to look at you. You stay there for a moment just looking at him when he finally peaks at you from under his arm.

"What's wrong?" you shrug your shoulders, you were thinking about what it'd be like to finally kiss him but you weren't going to tell him that. "reo was making fun of me earlier today" he says off handedly now staring at your ceiling.

"Why was he making fun of you?" you question unsure of what his best friend would be teasing him about "because I told him we haven't kissed yet" nagi notices immediately how your hand on his leg halts it's movement but doesn't say anything.

"My friends too, at lunch today" you quietly admit wondering if your response would bother him "Does it bother you?" he questions, unsure how to answer you stare at him "That we haven't kissed" he clarified making you smile.

"I know what you meant...but a little bit" you sigh not wanting to look at him, too embarrassed. "Me too" he sighs looking back up at your ceiling, maybe he's embarrassed too. The two of you sit in silence for what feels like hours before you finally decide to make a move.

Nagi peeks at you from the corner of his eye when you slide further back onto the bed and throw one of your legs over his. And when you start too crawl up to him he finally lifts his head off the pillow.

"What are you doing?" he mutters laying his head back down when your face is right in front of his "I don't know...you don't want to kiss?" You're not too sure why you've started to whisper, it's not like your parents are home.

When he doesn't answer you, you let out a soft sigh "this really hurts you know" you mutter motioning towards your arms while you were basically in a plank position above him "sit down then" he states obviously, grabbing your waist and forcing you sit on his lap.

You slightly hover, not wanting to have him bare your full weight, and mildly embarrassed by the position you two are now in. You can feel him staring at your face while you fidget with your hands, unsure of where to place them.

You only look at him when he grabs both of your hands and places them right above his stomach, which you take note of how sturdy it is. Although he doesn't look it, or act like it, he's quite athletic and his body is just proof of it.

"You're the one who climbed onto my lap but now you seem shy" he says in a bored tone while placing his hands on your knees that rested by his waist. "Well you didn't seem interested...and I dont know what to do now." Sometimes in the back of your mind you wonder if nagi even actually likes you.

"I got nervous too you know" he mutters looking away, the tips of his ears red. You smile to yourself because you feel the thought leaving your mind, leaning down you hover right over his face again.

"You're so cute you know" your smile widens when he gives you a gross look "I'm not cute" you mindlessly nod, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. Embarrassed by your action you bury your face into his neck which he tries to move away from.

"That tickles stop" he sighs grabbing your face and pulling you back up to face him again. Now staring at each other you're unsure if you should say something, but before you could he leaned up a bit a pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

After pulling away after a few seconds you immediately hide in his neck again. "Stop that, it tickles" he whines placing his hands firmly on your waist trying to flip you over. "Ok ok! I'll stop I just wasn't expecting that, plus I'm wearing a skirt"

You sigh now fully sitting on his lap while brushing your hands over your face which feels a bit flush. "That was barely a kiss what're you so worked up for?" You quickly look down at him with your jaw dropped.

"You are so red right now, don't even! Should I take a picture to show you?" you laugh reaching for his phone which he quickly stops "No no, but you're acting like I shoved my tongue in your mouth or something." He huffed hugging you to his chest with your arms under you to stop you from taking a picture.

"I just really like you..." you shyly admit while wiggling your arms underneath him to hug him. You can feel his heart beating rapidly underneath you when he lets out a deep sigh "Me too"

You lift your head just enough to look at him, his face still just as red as before and send him a small smile before pressing you lips to his again. This time the kiss lingers for a bit before either of you move away, and when you do he's immediately chasing you for another.

This continues for a few minutes before he gets tired of it and raises one hand to grab your jaw. And this time when he kisses you he moves a head a bit to deepen the kiss, you shift a bit on his lap when your lips start to melt together.

He's first to pull away a bit breathless with a dazed look in his eyes "You ok?" you softly laugh reaching out to rub his cheek and brush a few hairs out of his face, he barely answers you before leaning in again a bit more eager this time.

You let a deep breath out into the kiss when you feel him grip your waist hastily while he's bucking his hips a bit to get more comfortable. And when you feel his tongue prod at your bottom lip you pull away.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do- it's ok I don't mind" You softly laugh looking at him feeling giddy about finally making out with your boyfriend. He gives you a pout while bringing you back down "Then why'd you stop me?" but before you could answer him his lips were back on yours.

He didn't hesitate to lick your bottom lip this time, almost doing it with more emphasis this time hoping you'll let him in. And when you do you can feel him slightly smile into the kiss while his hands roam your back.

Still not too sure where to put your hands, you leave them perched on his shoulders while slightly fiddling with his shirt. You're too distracted to really care and you doubt he cares either. And while his tongue roams your mouth you feel your hips pressing down a bit harder onto his lap.

He pulls away for a split second just to catch his breath but before you can say anything his lips are back on yours. You want to tell him off for not letting you speak but you opt to enjoy the kiss for now.

But when he goes to kiss you with tongue again you beat him to it and experimentally lick into his mouth. Your eyes widen in shock when he lets out a loud groan while bucking his hips up into yours.

You quickly pull away unable to hide your smile and he immediately groans knowing you're about to tease him. But before you can say anything your phone begins to ring and when you look over at it you see your parents contact.

You let out a softly sigh at the moment being cut short while reaching over for your phone. "funs over" you frown showing him the contact before answering, he just lets out a quiet groan while throwing his head back into your pillows.

[boy-gender]

How do you deal with guilt around being a man, and like generally feeling like you're "betraying women" or choosing to be something bad by transitioning? It's something I've really been struggling with..

I sort of have two answers for you.

The first is a bit glib, but I think you've got some bioessentialism to unlearn, anon. I know that it's probably not a belief you arrived at yourself- rather, a bunch of hateful radfem douschebags have so often repeatedly said shit like that, that you're a traitor, you're failing feminism, youre just trying to escape the patriarchy, you're mocking what women are, men are evil and youll become evil especially with testosterone. That kind of crap.

Genuinely I do not give it any thought. It's ridiculous on the surface, so I write it off as misguided and inane. There is no logical way to justify grouping an entire half of the population together, deciding that the one thing they have in common (being men) is somehow the defining trait about them (because nothing else is being taken into account, like their sexuality, ethnicity, trans or intersex status, poverty level, where they live, whatever) and then also deciding that one common trait is the root of all evil. I've personally had a lot of experience with people doing this with certain mental illnesses- particularly cluster B personality disorders- and deciding like "yes this one thing about you makes you evil. You have Evil Person Disorder," and seeing how stupid that was, I just applied it elsewhere. Humans are far too diverse, nuanced, and contradictory for any flat rule like "all X people are bad" to ever be accurate. If it's not accurate, it's not useful, so I don't judge myself by it. I literally just block the people spewing that shit and let it slide off like water on a duck. I have enough warped internalized beliefs from my upbringing- I'm not adding more when I can immediately and obviously see their flaws.

So my advice is to block anyone you see saying that shit. You might be beginning to internalize it because of just how often you see it- so you need to cut that off at the source. Radfems are not and never will be allies; they do not have "some good points." Their movement was specifically designed by conservatives to uphold white supremacist capitalism, and nothing that comes from that is ethically correct. I'd suggest picking up Mothers of Conservatism by Michelle Nickerson. A lot about the origins of the radfem/female separatism movements are detailed there, created by fundamentally conservative women. With this new 4B movement shit on the rise, it's helpful to understand how fucked up and wrong they've always been from the beginning. My second answer to you is to look at what manhood means to you. If you don't think you can be objective about this, ask a friend to help. List the traits you associate with what *you* personally want to be as a man, what you hope you transition towards. Do you want to be a financial provider? Do you want to defend your community? Do you want to be generous? Brave? Do you want to be an expert in a special interest? Do you want to make lots of friends?

Make a list of those traits. Then look at them, divorced from the idea of gender. Is being a financial provider "bad?" Is being generous bad? Or brave? Or having lots of friends? Are any of these things bad in isolation, or does your guilt about them come from their association with manhood? Is that /your/ association, or did other people cause you to think there is an association?

For me, I had two formative male relationships as a child. My father, and my maternal grandfather. My father was an abusive piece of shit who liked to pick me up by the throat and slam me into walls, threaten our pet cats, scream at me until I dissociated, called me slurs, hated my opinions on anything, belittled me, believed only in capitalism, is a social darwinist capitalist schill, hates my mom, treated me like a servant and punching bag, and is a miserable fuck with no friends.

My grandpa was an old man who loved scotland and tartan and scottish terriers even though he never had one, loved each of his cats which he had all the time. He collected coins and read about history, he made model planes. He watched judge judy with me and talked about the cases and if we agreed with her rulings; he watched the news from multiple different outlets a day and taught me to weigh them against one another. He loved sitting on the porch and watching neighborhood kids play, and he drank a lot of lemonade. He was a brilliant chemist, provider, raised 4 kids in near poverty, then raised 8 grandkids after that. He would sneak me chocolate malt balls as a "vitamin" and he would tease my grandma by pretending to pick up and lick his plate after dinner. He taught my uncle to garden who then taught my cousin, so all my life gardening has been "mens work" to me. He was soft spoken, curious, patient, and mischevious. He loved my grandma for 60 years until he died.

These men have nothing in common except that they were men. Being a man didnt make my grandpa evil because he chose not to be. Being a man didnt make my dad evil either; he's an evil fuck because he made that choice. They are both sentient beings, who can use logic and emotions alike. One chose poorly. It never made sense to me as a child to assume all men would be like my dad or like my grandpa, because they were both men and they weren't at all like each other. Some categories are just so broadly diverse that they aren't really helpful- if I ask you to picture a mammal, do I mean a monkey or a mouse? Does "sea creature" mean a giant ass blue whale or a tiny piece of plankton? "Man" as a category is too broad to make assumptions about. I know it sounds circular and reductive, but the only thing that makes someone a man is...being a man. Nothing else.

I find it helps to look at a diverse array of men, to see all that men can be, especially men not like myself or the men I know. What does it mean to be a man in rural Yunnan farm country? What did it mean to be a man in medieval europe? What is it like being a gay black man from california, or a hunter living off the grid in appalachia? What does it mean to be a man in a culture where long hair is masculine, or where harvesting plants is masculine, where being a doctor is masculine? What about cultures where adornment is masculine? Hell, what about animals? What's it like to be a male lion vs a male house cat? What do I think about male cardinals, who are the bright lovely red ones, whose color is meant to draw a predators eye to them and away from the female cardinals and their nests?

To me, gender is an all you can eat buffet. It's customizeable. You can pick up or ignore or throw away any traits you want or don't want. Grab things that are feminine in your culture and incorporate them into your manhood in a subversive, gender nonconforming way. Take things that are masculine that make you happy, that you're reclaiming in a way because you may not have been allowed to do/be them before. Fill your gender with the ideals and aesthetics you like. You are fundamentally changing manhood by being a man, by being a different kind of man than any other man. If there are 4 billion men on the planet, there are 4 billion different 'microgenders' of man.

Seems silly to write off an entire 4 billion people as inherently evil and incapable of either goodness or change. It's just illogical. For me, that's enough to discard the idea wholecloth. If it doesn't make sense, I'm not wasting my time with it. That's not an ability everyone else has easily though, so you take the time you need. Try to look at yourself as objectively as possible, as an outsider. As you transition, have your actions become more evil? Are you committing sexist acts? Have you literally betrayed all the women you know somehow? Do you feel yourself becoming less kind, less patient, less interested in equality or the preservation of life? I'm betting, since you're nervous about it enough to ask, that none of those things are happening to you. Do not let yourself be gaslit into believing you are becoming something you're not. Look at your actions, your words. Look at your values and how you live up to them. If you don't see any sudden discrepancy, then you know anyone who tells you you're becoming evil by becoming a man is straight up lying to you. They're projecting an idea onto you that doesnt fit reality; trying to put a round peg in the square hole. Be curious, be objective. Do not be misled, and for those who try to mislead you, hit them with a chunky block button.

[spectrumgarden]

Something very weird about not speaking with (specific) people is that some of them are very quick to suggest you shouldn't be allowed to do every day things based on that single fact.

I dont speak with 90-97% of people, call it what you want but that's what it's like. It's not a choice, it's not anxiety, my brain just won't brain the words and my vocal chords refuse to do their job too.

Anyways. A few years back I ordered a present online for my at the time boyfriend. But the package arrived half torn open and looking generally speaking, awful. It was electronics so it having gotten damaged (internally) somehow through whatever it was put through while getting delivered was a real fear. So I checked, and they only had a phone line to help with issues like this, not email (email is already really hard for me, but like, can we please at least offer it? I cant FUCKING SPEAK WITH YOU! It doesnt work!). I asked my mother to call them. Well, what followed was an at first fairly nice person on the other end, who then quickly got tripped up by the difference in my mothers name, and the name the order was filed under (mine). What I then heard was something like this:

Mother: "No, I didn't order it, my son did"

Worker: "well I will have to speak to him about it"

M: "no he cant speak to you, hes autistic. Hes sitting right next to me hearing you though. He can nod or shake his head to questions and I can relay the answer"

W: "I will need verbal confirmation from him that I can give you information about the order"

M: "he. He cant do that. He doesnt speak."

W: "are you like, his legal guardian or something?"

M: "no, hes an adult, no guardianship... I just do his phone calls cause he doesnt... Speak."

W: "well are you sure he should be making purchases online? I dont think that's okay-"

M: (interrupting) "he can definitely order things, he knows how to handle money and it's His Money. Again, theres no guardianship. Legally hes absolutely allowed this decision."

(Insert long discussion about how to verify the information being allowed to be given out to her. I think we settled on sending a scan/ picture of my signature via email that now suddenly existed.)

My issue isnt that they dont wanna give out information to others easily, I appreciate privacy laws. It's just that they frequently make shit Not Accessible and then when people try to help their disabled relatives / friends / ... we are questioned why we arent under a fucking conservatorship or something when we dont Need That, we just need things to be a little more accessible! And preferably, without having a stranger talk about how we should actually not be allowed to make purchases, or have any sorta autonomy.

[crustydavestrider]

guess whos back

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[moongothic]

Seen a few people too many discuss the concept of Dragodile Baby 2 and my hot take is that there's no way in hell Crocodile would ever detransition just to go through nine months of horrible dysphoria again, let alone go through pregnancy ever again (or allow Ivankov to even touch him, what if they died and weren't able to trans Croc's gender again afterwards? Hell naw, ain't worth the risk)

But this leaves an opportunity for a Funnier Option:

Dragon wants another baby? Sure, but it's his turn to carry it >:)

[feroluce]

Crying imagining Gepard finally catching and cuffing Sampo, but Sampo isn't even distressed about it, he just looks up at Gepard with his big sad wet eyes and smarmy smirk like oh noooo, not the handcuuuuuuuffs, I'm helpless~

And Gepard is trying so so hard to not even look directly at him, his face is bright red as he tells himself to stay strong- do NOT think about the last time he arrested him when Sampo rode him and how good it felt, do not think about the arrest before that and how good he is at sucking dick, don't do it, don't do it, he's just going to use the distraction to make an escape again, stay strong Gepard, stay strong....!!!!

Smash cut to Gepard, pissed off and fuming and humiliated, as he sits cuffed to a bench with his own handcuffs while Sampo stands nearby, counting the money out of Gepard's wallet like "Man is this really all they pay you" JDKJSJDJD

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[venacoeurva]

...I know people in this day and age think any collaborative effort can fix things, often despite reality (ex. the MULTIPLE tumblr blackout protests over the last like 10 years across different owners of tumblr that didn’t change shit),

but I think going out of your way to buy things from tumblr en masse as a “well then they’ll be profitable and won’t have to change things to resemble profitable sites!” as if the CEO/higher ups are personally going to see this and not AT MOST just go “oh we made money, sick, Anyway.” is just. the most naive and frankly 5-year-old level of problem solving unrealistic idea if you think about it for more than 5 seconds. People are just so blinded by naive optimism it’s painful.

Staff isn’t going to see your purchases and go on a full redemption arc and restore porn in spite of payment systems’ massive stigma against it or Apple’s restrictions and never ever try to mimic Twitter or TikTok again, or whatever the fuck you’re expecting, they’ll keep focusing on shit tweaks that resemble other sites because those are what keep investors who think they know tech and user wants hooked and they think new people from other sites will come over for that instead of the fact these people are typically escaping those kinds of features.

Staff isn’t your friend, their vying for support like they’re your buddy who is hitting hard times and has been here holding your hand all these years is deliberate corporate marketing, they’re an arm of a corporation that spits in the face of LGBTQ+ people and especially black people for daring to post about themselves while touting themselves as The Queer Site! A diverse site! Look at this AMA we’re doing with someone about Black History Month! and you’re doing nobody a service when you’re unintentionally rewarding a service for getting worse because they will not know nor care about your motives, they just care that they got money and will continue making it worse regardless of you. They’re a corporation, not a small business ran by 10 people who are trying their best. People throwing money at Staff already encourages them, let alone when you buy into the weird parasocial shit they try with us which will continue as they see success with that method.

Like the mere idea of everyone buying the crabs to gift to make the site profitable is just unrealistic (especially in this economy with such terrible inflation and in NA there are issues with the weather and fires, on a site that mostly consists of groups of people who are typically low income or unable to work???), it feels very much like the gofundme pages people set up to raise money for celebrities who have debts who will be fine regardless and definitely don’t need your help. Corporations and CEOs are not your friends, they never will be. They do not care about you and they’re not some poor uwu victim of circumstance.

TL;DR half-assed blackouts aimed at companies that don’t care (that I have seen over and over) and “cr*b day” type efforts are incredibly dumb and will change nothing, and they will not change anything, just encourage them since they see they’re making money during their current marketing schemes, if they notice at all. You pitying them like they’re a poor innocent person is exactly what the corporation wants.

If you want to make a difference give that money to an artist or lgbtq+ people who basically get flagged as mature for Existing, or people who get their posts flagged for criticizing the site, or something, someone who gets screwed over by this site on the regular. It will do far more good than that whackadoo type pipe dream and sit down and think for a second, please.

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[samarecharm]

If i start posting dc stuff on here, it means i lost the fight w myself. The demons won. Im sorry

[kingwaino]

i have done...an absolute deep dive into blues and folk music tonight. it was 100% one of those blink and three hours have passed type of deals. worth it though.