#jonah zsakuva | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoursinisforgiven · 1 month ago

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PORNST☆R ──

pairing: jonah x reader (bartender)

cw: smut, afab reader, usage of the pet name ‘good girl’ and usage of the pronoun her once, pubic sex, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), breeding (with intentions of pregnancy), making of pornography, bondage, usage of sex toys.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Jonah had always known you were attractive—more than that, the two of you were attractive together.

A perfect match, some would say. The kind of couple that made people double-take, not just because of looks but because of how effortlessly you moved around each other, an easy rhythm that translated even through a screen.

At first, it was nothing more than passing mentions in his stream chat. Casual curiosities.

username: where’s ____? username: why isn’t ____ there, are they okay?

Fans had caught glimpses of you before—heard your voice in passing, seen the way you leaned against Jonah when exhaustion weighed heavy from a long bar shift. Some even went as far as making edits after subscriber Q&As, splicing together stolen moments: your tired smirk as you rested your head on his shoulder, his absentminded fingers threading through your hair, the way he always glanced at you when you spoke, like the rest of the world had gone quiet.

And then, of course, there were the others.

username: he’s too good for ____. username: they don’t deserve him. username: wish he’d break up already. username: how much you wanna bet their cheating?

Jonah saw those comments sometimes, tucked between waves of donations and praise, jealousy and possessiveness veiled in thinly disguised concern. His lips would press into a firm line, jaw tight, but he never entertained them. His fans didn’t own him. Certainly not. And more importantly, they didn’t own you. So he let it roll off his back, the way he’d been trained to after years online. If it didn’t bother you, it sure as hell wouldn’t bother him.

It was innocent. At least, at first.

Tonight was like any other. The apartment was dimly lit, the only real source of light coming from his monitor, the glow of neon icons casting a soft blue sheen across his desk. An empty energy drink can sat to the side, condensation pooling in a ring beneath it, forgotten. The faint scent of microwave popcorn lingered in the air from earlier, mixed with the comfortable, familiar notes of your body lotion—the one you used after showering, the one he always associated with the way you felt pressed against him at night.

Jonah had built a reputation for his late-night streams. A comfort for insomniacs, international viewers, and night owls who thrived in the early hours.

Meanwhile, you were in the living room, curled up on the couch despite his half-hearted attempts to convince you to stay in bed with him while he streamed.

“Falling asleep on live would be so embarrassing,” you muttered, dragging a few pillows from the bed, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Jonah had only laughed, shaking his head as he tinkered with his mic. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. You do drool a ton.”

The pillow you launched at his head was swift and unmerciful.

“Ow!” he yelped, overly dramatic even as laughter spilled from his lips. You only leaned in, pressing a lazy kiss to his cheek before disappearing into the living room, leaving behind the faint scent of your shampoo—something warm and slightly sweet, lingering long after you were gone.

That had been two hours ago.

Now, with Friends reruns playing in the background—ads and all—he figured you’d long since dozed off, likely curled into yourself, one arm tucked beneath your head, the other resting over your stomach. Your phone was probably still in your hand, screen dimmed but not yet locked, a half-written text or an unread notification left abandoned.

Jonah was deep into Elden Ring, locked in a brutal fight with a dragon that had already killed him more times than he cared to admit. His chat was thriving off his frustration, spamming skull emojis and ‘LMAOOO’ every time he let out a groan of defeat. His jaw clenched as he dodged one final attack, landing a clean, calculated strike.

The beast collapsed. Victory.

He barely had time to enjoy the moment before a donation alert popped up on-screen.

The text-to-speech bot read it aloud:

username donated $30 “u and ____ should totally do onlyfans.”

Jonah blinked.

For a beat, there was only the low hum of the game’s background music, the faint cadence of laughter from the sitcom playing in the next room. The thunk of his water bottle as he set it down. The soft whir of his PC fans.

Then, his chat exploded.

username: YO?? username: LMAOOOOOO username: BRO ANSWER THE QUESTION username: CLIPPED username: DON’T IGNORE IT, JONAH

His lips parted slightly, caught between amusement and disbelief. His fingers stilled on the keyboard.

“Oh, we’re just saying things now, huh?” He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face, feigning exasperation as his chat continued flooding the screen with reactions.

But the thought had already planted itself.

Like a spark, it lingered.

Jonah’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his mind flickered to you—the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, the way your body molded against his so seamlessly, the teasing glint in your eyes whenever you indulged the occasional flirty comment from chat.

Jonah exhaled, chuckling softly as he refocused on the game.

Still, the idea remained.

──

Jonah stirred awake to the feeling of movement beside him. He barely registered the warmth of your body shifting away, the bed dipping as you attempted to slip out unnoticed. His first instinct was to reach out, fingers curling gently around your wrist before his brain could fully catch up.

“…Where you goin’?” His voice was thick with sleep, gravelly and slightly muffled against the pillow. He blinked sluggishly, lifting his head just enough to see your silhouette against the morning light seeping through the curtains.

You turned to him, the faintest smile tugging at your lips as you gently pried his fingers away. “Work,” you murmured, voice still soft from sleep.

Jonah scrubbed a hand over his face, blinking away the blurriness in his vision as he glanced toward the nightstand. The red glow of the digital clock flashed back at him.

8:24 AM.

A groan slipped past his lips. Maybe—just maybe—he should start cutting down on the late-night streams. The thought of getting up anytime before noon felt like actual hell, and yet here you were, already dressed and ready to take on a grueling shift at the bar.

Still, as much as he wanted to grumble about it, he wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet.

The mattress dipped again as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, muttering a quiet, “I’ll see you later.” But before you could straighten up completely, Jonah caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your face back toward him.

He kissed you properly then—deep, slow, lips warm from sleep. His thumb brushed idly along your jawline, savoring the way you melted into it, however brief.

When you finally pulled away, you exhaled a soft chuckle, smoothing a hand over his messy hair. “Go back to sleep, Jonah.”

He only hummed in response, lazily watching as you grabbed your keys and slipped out the bedroom door. The faint jingle of them, followed by the quiet click of the front door shutting behind you, was the last sound he heard before the apartment settled into silence.

Jonah lay there for a few more minutes, caught between sleep and reality, his body reluctant to fully wake up. But his mind wasn’t as kind. As soon as he turned over, reaching for his phone on the charger, the sheer amount of notifications waiting for him made his stomach drop.

The bright screen illuminated the dark room, nearly blinding him. Instagram. Twitter. TikTok. Twitch. His lock screen was flooded.

Confused, he squinted at the dozens—no, hundreds—of messages, likes, retweets, reposts, and tagged clips from last night’s stream. His DMs were a nightmare. His requests folder? Completely overwhelmed.

And then he saw the recurring theme.

Screenshots. Out-of-context clips. Tweets bordering on actual thirst traps—fan edits of the way he’d reacted to that single, off-handed comment.

It was everywhere.

His chat’s explosion, his flustered half-laugh, the way he’d wet his lips right before dodging the question—all of it dissected, analyzed, and turned into content overnight. People were straight-up writing essays about it.

username: bro the way he paused 😭 HE THOUGHT ABOUT IT. username: Look me in the eyes and tell me they wouldn’t make BANK. username: i would pay my rent twice over if they did. username: Y’all… the way he leaned back and laughed ?? that was NOT a no.

Jonah groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Dragging himself up, he scrolled mindlessly, watching the absolute chaos unfold in real-time. People were even bribing him. Actually bribing him.

Direct Message Request: ”$200 donation if u just consider it.” “Jonah if you make an OF I will literally pay off your student loans.” “i got $500 right now bro no questions asked.”

He had to laugh. Had to.

Running a hand through his already messy hair, he opened his camera, snapping a quick, disheveled selfie. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, lips slightly parted, a vague expression of exhaustion and disbelief on his face. He barely even checked the angle before posting it to his story with a caption:

“y’all need to be stopped.”

Not a yes.

Not a no, either.

Within seconds, his phone buzzed with replies.

Jonah dragged himself out of bed, still scrolling as he made his way to the kitchen.

──

The house was eerily quiet when you stepped inside, the kind of silence that made you double-check if you had actually unlocked the door or just walked into someone else’s place by accident. The morning chill still clung to your skin, lingering like an unwelcome guest as you kicked the door shut behind you.

Jonah’s car was parked outside—so you knew he was home—but something about the stillness felt off. Usually, even if he was holed up in his gaming room, there’d be some kind of noise. A YouTube video playing, music humming from his speakers, the occasional loud thunk of him bumping into furniture like he had no spatial awareness whatsoever.

You frowned, setting the small bag of groceries onto the kitchen island before calling out, “Jonah?”

A beat of silence.

Then, almost instantly, his voice rang out from the bedroom. “In here!”

You huffed, kicking off your shoes near the door before making your way down the hall. The scent of faint cologne and warm linen greeted you as you stepped into the room, but your attention was immediately drawn to Jonah—still in his sleep clothes, slouched in his gaming chair, scrolling on his phone.

His posture was lazy, one leg propped up against the desk, the other foot dragging slightly against the floor as he absently spun himself a few inches side to side. His hair was a mess, sticking up in places like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times, and his expression—furrowed brows, lips slightly jutted into a small pout—made it obvious he was deep in thought.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “You look like you just found out your favorite restaurant shut down.”

Jonah barely looked up, but you caught the slight twitch of his lips, like he wanted to smirk but was too preoccupied. Instead, he turned his phone screen toward you, thumb hovering over a particularly bold tweet.

You squint at the words on his phone, furrowing your brows as your brain takes a second to process the tweet. The sheer audacity of it—someone casually offering thousands of dollars like they were placing a bid on an auction—makes you snort before you can help yourself.

Shaking your head, you plop onto the bed, phone already in hand as you scroll through your own feed. “I’ve seen that one,” you murmur, half-distracted.

Jonah’s chair creaks as he spins to fully face you, his expression shifting from mild disbelief to outright shock. “You’ve seen it?!”

You glance up briefly, catching the way his brows shoot up, mouth slightly agape. His reaction pulls an amused smirk from you as you scroll with practiced ease, fingers tapping against the screen. “Do you think I live under a rock? Plus, you’re trending.”

Jonah leans back in his chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “I’m trending?” He scoffs, then corrects himself, “We’re trending. The internet has officially lost its mind.”

He swipes through his notifications, the blue glow of his phone casting shadows on his face. His feed is a war zone—clips from last night’s stream, edits of the two of you, and endless, endless debate threads. Some fans are losing their minds at the idea, while others are calling it a marketing goldmine. There’s even a few suggestive art pieces that make him pause and blink a few times before hurriedly scrolling past them.

Your own feed isn’t much better. Your name, alongside Jonah’s, is attached to countless tweets, some joking, some… not so joking. One particularly bold post catches your eye:

username: At this point, Jonah and his partner dropping an OF is a public service. We deserve this.

You stifle a laugh, tilting your screen toward him. “The people have spoken.”

Jonah squints at it before groaning, rubbing his temples dramatically. “Jesus Christ.”

But the thing is—he isn’t exactly against it. The idea has been sitting in the back of his mind since last night, taking root every time he let his thoughts wander. It wasn’t just about the money—though the sheer amount people were throwing around was insane—it was the intrigue. The possibility.

Because, objectively speaking, you were hot. He was hot. Together? It made sense why people were frothing at the mouth.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head with an amused huff. “You’re handling this way too well.”

You shrug, setting your phone down beside you. “I think it’s hilarious. Besides…” Your gaze flickers up to meet his, something unreadable passing behind your eyes before your lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “It’s not like the idea completely sucks.”

Jonah stills. Just for a second.

Then, a slow grin spreads across his face, all lazy amusement and mischief. He tilts his head, studying you, considering.

“…Oh?”

The tone of his voice—low, dripping with amusement and something darker—sends a shiver down your spine. Heat rushes to your face, blooming deep in your chest and settling like a weight in your stomach.

You don’t think. You react.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing the nearest pillow, and before you can even process it, you’re hurling it straight at him.

Jonah’s laughter rings out, rich and unbothered—because unlike last time, he’s ready. He catches the pillow effortlessly, gripping it in one hand like he’d been expecting it.

He smirks, shaking his head as he tosses the pillow aside. “We seriously have to break this little habit of yours, babe.”

There’s something in the way he says it—smooth like honey, rich with amusement, but laced with something firmer. Something that makes your stomach twist and heat bloom beneath your skin.

You roll onto your side, feigning nonchalance, propping your head up with one hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you murmur, deliberately avoiding the eye contact Jonah so clearly demands.

Jonah snorts, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair as he leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. “Right. Because you definitely don’t have a history of launching shit at me every time you get flustered.”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes at him. “Maybe if you weren’t such a menace, I wouldn’t have to resort to violence.”

Jonah lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what exactly am I doing to deserve such abuse?”

You huff, turning your face away in a weak attempt to ignore him, but you can feel his gaze lingering on you. Can hear the smug amusement in his voice, thick with the kind of self-satisfaction that makes your pulse stutter.

It’s infuriating.

But also… annoyingly attractive.

His chair creaks slightly as he leans in, just enough for his presence to feel heavier. Closer. His voice drops, teasing but deliberate, the deep cadence of it sending a ripple of heat through you.

“Oh, c’mon,” he murmurs. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

Your stomach clenches.

He tilts his head, eyes flicking over your face, reading every micro-expression like he’s mapping out all the ways he can toy with you. His smirk lingers, widening just a fraction.

“I thought you said the idea didn’t completely suck.”

Before you can react, he moves.

Suddenly, you’re on your back, the mattress dipping beneath you as Jonah’s weight pins you down. His hands brace on either side of you, his body close enough to steal the air from your lungs.

Your breath hitches.

You can’t avoid it this time—the intensity in his eyes, the way they gleam with something both playful and wicked as they lock onto yours. Your throat goes dry, and you swallow hard, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.

The silence stretches, charged and heavy, and Jonah’s smirk only deepens.

He knows.

Knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

And worse?

He’s enjoying every second of it.

Sure, here’s a revised version with the requested changes:

The air between you is thick with tension, crackling with an electric charge that sends shivers down your spine. Jonah’s gaze is locked on yours, and suddenly, you’re painfully aware of every inch of space between you. His breath, soft yet deliberate, brushes against your skin, and the warmth of it makes your heart pound. You swallow, your throat dry, and try to steady yourself, but it’s impossible when everything inside you is coiling tight, anticipation building.

You try to push the thought away—the one that’s been nagging at you all morning, ever since you saw the clip from last night. It’s been hovering in the back of your mind, a slow, persistent burn. But now, with Jonah so close, everything feels different. The idea isn’t just lingering anymore—it’s starting to root itself deep within you, growing stronger by the second.

Without thinking, you reach up, your hands curling around his neck, pulling him toward you. His hands slide to your waist, firm and possessive, and you feel the heat of his body press into yours. You can’t help the breathless gasp that escapes your lips as his hips shift against yours, the movement sending a rush of heat straight through you.

“I… I wanna try,” you murmur softly, your voice barely a whisper as you press your lips to the side of his neck. The words are more than just a confession—they’re a promise, the beginning of something new. Something thrilling.

Jonah pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath coming in shallow pants, lips curving into a knowing smile. “Yeah?” he breathes out, the word heavy with a mix of desire and curiosity, as if he’s waiting for confirmation.

Without missing a beat, you nod, the words that follow slipping from your lips almost effortlessly. “Let’s practice now.”

His smirk deepens, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. His hands move quickly, pulling his shirt over his head with a practiced ease, exposing his toned chest. You watch him, your breath hitching at the sight, unable to tear your gaze away.

Jonah reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone with a smooth motion, his fingers quickly unlocking the screen. A flicker of realization crosses your mind just before he holds it up, aiming it toward you both. The sudden thought of being recorded sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, but it only heightens the thrill coursing through you.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he mutters, his voice low and husky as his eyes flick back to yours, “I’ve got you”.

Before you can respond, Jonah’s hands are on you again, more urgent this time. His grip tightens, and you feel him grope you roughly through your shirt, the pressure of his touch sending a wave of heat rushing through you. His phone records the moment, his free hand still working to tug at your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin as they travel lower. You can’t help but moan softly, your body already betraying you as it responds to him instinctively.

The room feels smaller now, the world outside irrelevant as you’re consumed by the heat of his touch and the camera capturing it all.

──

username [top fan ★] tipped $50! : edge her pls <3

The moment Jonah echoes the notification, your body reacts on instinct, thrashing against the red rope securing your wrists to the headboard. The bindings bite into your skin with each desperate movement, but you barely register the sting—too caught up in the rush of anticipation.

Jonah lets out a breathy chuckle at your reaction, his amusement laced with something darker. He moves in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as his hand wraps around your throat—not applying pressure yet, just resting there. A silent warning. Be careful.

It’s been less than three months since you both started recording, and already, you and Jonah had blown up. The anonymity of it all only added to the allure—neither of you had shown your faces, but that hadn’t stopped speculation. There were entire threads dedicated to uncovering your true identities, theories running rampant. Jonah only fueled the fire when, during a livestream, he had accidentally left his monitor on, revealing a tab open to your OnlyFans link.

At his ‘realization,’ he’d scrambled to close it, feigning embarrassment—but the damage was done. Subscriptions skyrocketed.

Of course, it wasn’t just the mystery that kept people hooked. It was the sheer filth of your content—from outrageous toys to public sex—drew subscribers in like moths to a flame. And the money? It poured in by the thousands, every new request more depraved than the last.

Now, though, none of that matters. Your mind is clouded with a desperate, aching need—so consumed by the unbearable heat coursing through your veins that any thoughts of speculation, subscriptions, or teasing hints at your identities are long forgotten. All that exists is the relentless pulse between your legs and the cruel denial your fans seem to revel in.

Jonah, still fully clothed, shifts beside you, his presence only adding to the frustration curling tight in your stomach. He brings the bullet vibrator back to your clit, pressing it against you with just enough pressure to make you jolt. The sound that escapes you is raw, involuntary—exactly what he wanted. He groans at the sight, at the way your arousal is pooling beneath you, glistening under the dim lighting.

With a wet kiss planted to your tear stained cheek, he leans down, positioning himself perfectly within the camera’s view. His colorful, freshly dyed hair—one of the only real clues to his identity—stands out against your skin as he lowers his mouth, deliberately slow, dragging the anticipation until you’re trembling. Then, almost obnoxiously, he licks a broad stripe through your slick folds, moaning shamelessly into you, letting the audience hear just how much he’s savoring the moment.

Jonah’s tongue worked relentlessly, each flick and stroke sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. He groaned into you, the vibrations making your thighs tremble as he lapped at your slick heat with a hunger that bordered on feral. His mouth sealed over your core, sucking greedily, his tongue delving deep before dragging up to swirl over your clit, over and over again, until your legs threatened to give out beneath the relentless pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste incredible,” he groaned, voice thick with arousal. He pulled back just enough for you to see the glistening mess he’d made of himself—his lips, chin, even the tips of his fingers shining with your arousal. The sight alone sent another wave of heat surging through you.

Then, without warning, he dove back in, sealing his mouth over you with even more desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough. His tongue plunged deep, moving with slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless, only to switch to rapid, messy flicks that had you thrashing in his hold. His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you open wider, keeping you exposed—for himself, for the camera, for everyone watching.

Your body jerked as you tried to grind against his mouth, chasing the peak that hovered just out of reach. But just as the pressure in your core tightened, Jonah pulled away, leaving you trembling on the edge. Your slick still coated his lips as he looked up at you, his expression dark with amusement.

“Beg them to let you cum,” he ordered, his voice rough, teasing. The words made your stomach flip, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you could answer, he was back on you, his tongue pressing inside again, curling and stroking in ways that made your mind go blank. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, echoing through the speakers of everyone watching, but Jonah didn’t care. He was lost in the moment, lost in you.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you tried to obey. “Please…” The word barely came out, choked by the pleasure wracking your body.

Jonah smirked against your skin, finally dropping the vibrator to the bed, his fingers replaced the toy, pressing against your clit in tight, fast circles, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that had your legs trembling uncontrollably. At the same time, he sucked at your entrance, drawing more of your arousal into his mouth with every deep pull.

It was messy, overwhelming, completely consuming. The heat, the wetness, the way your body responded helplessly to every touch—everything blurred together in a haze of pleasure that had you spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

username [top fan ★] tipped $500! : just a little longer please, their doing so well

Jonah pulls away, his lips still slick with evidence of just how close you were. He sits up slightly, shifting so that his face remains out of the camera’s frame, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. With a smirk, he reads the message aloud, his voice dripping with amusement.

At the sound of it, your entire body tenses. A broken sob rips from your throat, the unbearable need clawing at you, unraveling you completely. Tears spill down your flushed cheeks, frustration and desperation bleeding into one another until you can’t think of anything except the aching, throbbing pleasure that has nowhere to go. Your wrists tug uselessly against the ropes, your body trembling beneath him, helpless and needy.

Jonah watches you, his expression dark, greedy. He drags his fingers down your inner thigh, slow and deliberate, watching the way you twitch at even the faintest touch. He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, tilting his head as he studies you, as if deciding just how much longer he’s willing to drag this out.

“You heard them, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with mock sympathy. His fingers return to your soaked heat, teasing just enough to make you jolt. “A little longer.”

The words send a fresh wave of desperation crashing over you, your body betraying you as it responds to his every movement. And the worst part? You know Jonah loves this—the way you crumble for him, the way the camera captures every raw, unfiltered reaction for the audience to devour.

And so, he takes his time. Because he knows you’ll break for him all over again.

──

Muffled whimpers and ragged breaths fill the cramped dressing room, the heat between you unbearable. Jonah’s body is pressed tightly against yours, his movements relentless as he drives into you from behind. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth, silencing your cries, while his other hand works in slow, torturous circles against your aching clit. The slick, messy sounds of your bodies moving together fill the space, obscene and unrelenting.

You barely manage to glance back at him over your shoulder, your gaze glassy, pleading—for mercy, for more, for anything that might ease the overwhelming pressure building inside you. But Jonah’s expression is nothing but pure amusement, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. He lives for this—the way you tremble, the way your body betrays you, completely at his mercy.

Then, a sharp knock on the door shatters the moment. Your breath catches in your throat, panic cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?” comes the attendant’s polite voice, muffled through the door.

Jonah stills for only a second before his grin widens. His hand slips from your mouth, trailing down to your throat as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“Go on,” he murmurs, voice dripping with wicked delight.

You swallow hard, struggling to steady your voice. “Y-Yeah!” you manage, forcing the words past your trembling lips. “The shirt is just… a bit tighter than I thought.”

The silence stretches for a moment before the attendant responds, oblivious. “Oh! No worries, I’ll grab another size for you.”

Jonah chuckles low in his throat, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your jaw. His fingers tighten on your throat for just a second—a silent warning, a reminder of just how little control you have in this moment.

“Good girl,” he purrs, his hand slipping lower again, fingers pressing rougher, deeper. He doesn’t give you time to recover, doesn’t let you ease down from the fear that had spiked your adrenaline. Instead, he picks up his pace, the wet, messy friction making you gasp.

Then, he lifts his phone just enough to capture your reflection in the dressing room mirror, the red light blinking. “Now,” he whispers against your cheek, his voice dark with amusement, “look into the camera and cum before the nice saleslady comes back.”

──

Perhaps one of the most requested streams—one that kept subscribers coming back, tipping exorbitant amounts—were the ‘breeding’ nights. Hours upon hours of Jonah filling you over and over again, relentless and insatiable. The chat scrolled by at an impossible speed, messages begging him to keep going, to push you past your limits, to make sure everyone watching knew exactly who you belonged to.

“You’d look so good stuffed full of me,” Jonah mumbled, his voice thick and slurred, lost in the pleasure, in the sight of you spread beneath him. He was wrecked—completely gone, pussy-drunk and desperate, rolling his hips into yours with a slow, punishing grind.

He kept you pinned, pressed deep into the mattress in a cruel mating press, his weight keeping you from moving even an inch. His breath was hot against your skin, the grip on your thighs firm enough to leave marks. The chat was a blur of encouragement and filthy requests, but for once, Jonah didn’t even glance at it. His focus was solely on you—the way your body clenched around him, the way you trembled, overstimulated and desperate.

When he finally spilled inside you, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you there, grinding lazily, making sure every last drop stayed buried deep. The camera captured it all—the way you gasped, the way his muscles tensed as he emptied himself inside you once again.

Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull out, spreading you open for the camera’s view, watching his release spill from your swollen, sensitive entrance. A low, satisfied hum left his lips as he pushed it back in with two fingers, slow and deliberate.

“Messy little thing,” he murmured, lifting those same fingers to your lips, teasing them just past the edge. Though off-screen, the wet, obscene sounds of you sucking them clean filled the mic, sending the chat into another frenzy.

──

author's note: jonah and bartender our fav cam couple <3

tag list:

@ysawdalawa @rain-soaked-sun @tanksbigtiddiedgf @sdfivhnjrjmcdsn @lil-binuu @colombina-s-arle @xxminxrq @souvlia @meraki-kiera

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva fandom #jonah x bartender #jonah x reader #zsakuva jonah #jonah zsakuva

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yoursinisforgiven · 3 months ago

Text

CRAVE ──

pairing: jonah x reader (bartender)

cw: smut, afab reader, voyeurism, car sex, vaginal fingering, pain play(?), usage of lube, no usage of condoms, breeding without intentions of pregnancy, jonah and reader both consume alcohol (they are not drunk, just a little tipsy), reader gets flirted with.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

Your legs felt like they were on fire, muscles screaming with each step as you shuffled back to the bar to grab another shaker. Surely, if carpal tunnel could be earned in a single night, you’d already be halfway there after hours of relentless cocktail shaking. The rhythm of the night surged around you—a deafening symphony of hollering fans, clinking glasses, and the occasional chant erupting above the chaos like an unruly chorus.

You thought you’d prepared. A neon-pink sticky note, slapped haphazardly on your bedside table, had screamed its ominous reminder: ‘Game night. Hell awaits.’ You’d even told Jonah to remind you, thinking a backup plan might save your sanity. Instead, Jonah had turned out to be the opposite of helpful.

A flush crept up your neck at the memory of last night. He always had that effect on you—a lazy smirk, a teasing quip, and suddenly, your better judgment vanished like a drink left unattended at this very bar. The ache in your legs wasn’t just from tonight’s endless rush; if you were being honest, Jonah was at least partially to blame. A flicker of heat rippled through your body as you recalled his hands on your hips, his lips tracing the curve of your neck, leaving you breathless and reckless.

"Hey," a voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You flinched slightly, realizing you’d been scrubbing the same shaker for far too long. The once-clean metal was now blanketed in an absurdly thick layer of suds, a testament to your distraction.

Dragging your gaze from the soapy mess in your hands, you looked up to meet the customer’s eyes. “Sorry about that,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

"I'll take an Old Fashioned. Over ice," the man replied smugly, leaning slightly closer to the bar.

Internally, you scoffed. Over ice? Was he expecting you to serve it neat, in a paper cup? Still, you kept your tone even. “I’d love to help, but I’m a little tied up at the moment,” you said, gesturing with your soapy hand toward your coworker. “If you head over to the woman with the purple hair, she’ll take care of you.”

Your coworker was mid-laugh as she poured a beer, her newly touched-up roots glinting under the bar lights. She was good—sharp, efficient, and charming in a way that made tips flow like water.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the man said smoothly, ignoring your suggestion. He leaned in, his grin sliding into something more persistent. “I want you to make my drink. Don’t worry about it.”

You felt your stomach clench—not from nerves, but from irritation. The word sweetheart landed with all the subtlety of a spilled tray of drinks. His tone was practiced, the kind of smug confidence that told you he thought charm could bypass boundaries.

“Right,” you said, forcing your lips into a polite curve as you grabbed a fresh shaker. Your fingers tightened slightly around the metal as you moved with purpose, pulling the bourbon, bitters, and sugar from the shelf. If he wanted you to make the drink, fine. You’d make it.

The din of the bar continued as you worked, the rhythmic clinking of ice and the precise swirl of the spoon grounding you. Your expression remained neutral as you poured the drink into a glass, topping it with a perfect orange twist. Placing the glass on a coaster, you slid it across the bar toward him.

“There you go,” you said, your tone clipped but professional. “One Old Fashioned. Enjoy.”

His grin widened, his eyes lingering a little too long on you as he reached for the drink. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a sip.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t let the comment stick. Instead, you turned on your heel, tossing the soapy shaker into the sink with a little more force than necessary. Your coworker caught your eye and raised an eyebrow in silent understanding.

The night was long, the customers relentless, but you wouldn’t let any of them get under your skin—not tonight.

──

“Damn it, where is it?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the roar of the bar. Frustration bubbled up as you rummaged through the cluttered cabinet beneath the counter. Your fingers brushed against sticky surfaces, stray bottle caps, and a forgotten lime wedge that had seen better days, but the elusive bottle opener remained stubbornly out of sight. Whoever had misplaced it was definitely getting an earful when you found them.

Above you, the noise of the bar raged on. A wave of cheers flooded in from the side, the unmistakable sound of a touchdown, followed almost immediately by curses and groans as someone screamed about a red card on the screen. The chaos was relentless, a wave of sound that left your ears ringing.

You didn’t notice the customer at first, too wrapped up in your search. They took a seat right in front of you, their voice swallowed by the storm of noise around you. It wasn’t until you felt a presence—familiar and intense—that you looked up.

“Hey,” a voice called out, cutting through the chaos, this time with an unmistakable teasing edge. “Are you on the menu?”

You rolled your eyes, ready to fire off a response, until your gaze fell on him—Jonah. That lazy smirk. The all-too-familiar eyes that had a way of making you lose focus.

“Jonah!” you exhaled, your irritation replaced with relief. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned in, grinning like he hadn’t just walked into a bar full of rowdy sports fans. “Came to check on you, obviously,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. “And to offer some emotional support. I figure you could use it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself, your shoulders sagging with the weight of the night. “No kidding. I think I’m about five minutes away from calling it a night.” You rubbed your temple, squinting slightly. “This migraine isn’t helping.”

Jonah’s expression softened for a moment, his usual playful tone replaced with something more sincere. “Hey, take a breath, yeah?” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering as if the world around you didn’t exist. “I’m here for you, babe.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid up the side of your neck, tilting your head gently toward him. His lips brushed against yours—slow, deliberate. A kiss that was all comfort, the kind that made everything feel a little less chaotic.

When he pulled back, you stayed close, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Feel a little better now?” he whispered, his lips still dangerously close to yours.

“Maybe,” you said, your breath hitching slightly. A teasing smile playing on your lips. “But I think I’ll need another one to make it through this night.”

Jonah chuckled, the mischievous glint in his eye returning. “I’m happy to oblige.”

Before either of you could get lost in another kiss, you shook your head, laughing softly. “Alright, alright,” you said, nudging him back. ��You’re distracting me, I’ve got a job to do.”

Jonah raised his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. But just so you know…” He leaned in one last time, brushing his lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting when you’re done.”

You smiled, a real, genuine smile this time, feeling a little lighter than before. “You’d better be,” you replied, finally pushing back from the bar to face the chaos again

──

The bar had finally begun to quiet down, the energy tapering off now that the game was over. A sense of relief settled over you as you clocked out, feeling the weight of the evening’s chaos slipping away. You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt as you glanced over at Camila, who was still behind the bar, wiping down glasses with her usual efficiency.

“It’s okay, really,” she called out to you with a playful wink. “Go on. It’s dying down here.”

You smiled gratefully, admiring her freshly touched-up purple hair for a moment longer before heading toward the back to grab your jacket. The bar’s hum had shifted from rowdy cheers to the quiet clink of glasses and the murmur of conversations, signaling the end of the night.

When you returned, Jonah was exactly where you’d left him, nursing the same drink in his hand. He caught your eye and gave you a lazy grin, a quiet intimacy as he slowly ran his finger around the rim of his glass. The simple motion of his finger traced slow circles, and the sound of it echoed in your chest, making something inside you stir. You felt a heat rush to your face at the sight of him, but you quickly pushed the thought away. Tonight had already been intense enough, and the last thing you needed was for your mind to wander down a path it couldn’t afford.

Ignoring the flutter in your stomach, you approached him and, without a word, took the glass from his hand. You raised it to your lips and took a long sip, the unfamiliar liquid burning slightly as it slid down your throat. You didn’t know what it was, nor did you care. All you knew was that Jonah’s presence next to you was somehow grounding, as if the chaos of the evening had never existed when you were with him.

Jonah raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he watched you down the drink. “Not picky about your drinks, huh?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, setting the glass down on the bar with a soft clink. “Sometimes you just need something strong,” you replied, meeting his gaze, your voice a little lower now, laced with a teasing edge.

He leaned in slightly, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Is that so?” he said, voice slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering to your lips for a brief moment. “I think I might know just the thing you need to unwind.”

Before you could respond, the man from earlier, the one who had ordered the Old Fashioned, reappeared. His eyes locked onto you almost immediately, a sly grin spreading across his face. You could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere as his gaze lingered on you, something more insistent in his eyes this time.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth and self-assured. “That drink was perfect, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to join me for a drink sometime… outside of work?”

Jonah’s posture shifted slightly beside you, his jaw tightening imperceptibly as he studied the man. The tension in the air was palpable, the unease in Jonah’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

You kept your expression cool, but internally, you felt the urge to laugh. Really? After all that had happened tonight, this guy was still pushing?

“I’m flattered,” you said, your voice polite but firm, “but I’m not interested.”

The man’s grin faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing. But he recovered quickly, leaning a little too far forward across the bar, his tone taking on a more insistent edge.“C’mon, don’t play hard to get. I think we could have some fun together.”

Jonah, who had been quiet up until now, finally stepped forward. “They said they’re not interested,” he said calmly, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t playing games.

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and Jonah, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes. But he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a small grunt of annoyance and pushed himself away from the bar, muttering something under his breath as he walked off.

You let out a small breath of relief, though a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you turned back to Jonah. He was already looking at you, his expression unreadable, though there was something in his eyes that made your stomach flutter again.

You let out a small breath of relief, feeling the tension melt away as the man finally retreated. But as your eyes found Jonah’s, a new wave of warmth spread through you—partly from the lingering adrenaline, partly from the way his gaze seemed to cut through everything, sharp yet soft, like he could read the pulse of the night in a single glance.

You stood there for a moment, locked in that gaze, unsure of what to say. The words were trapped somewhere in your throat, and for a moment, you felt vulnerable in a way that wasn’t familiar, or maybe it was the quiet tension that still clung to the air. Whatever it was, it felt heavy and palpable between you two. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something flickering in his eyes—something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a slow flutter in your stomach.

“Let’s go,” you said, the words quieter than you intended. It wasn’t what you meant to say, but it came out like a whisper anyway, as if the bar's hum and the lingering chaos hadn’t quite left you. Your hand found its way to his, the familiar warmth of his fingers a grounding force in the midst of the noise that still swirled around you.

Jonah’s hand slipped into yours with ease, a comfortable fit you never had to question. But as you tugged him gently, leading him away from the bar, you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, brushing against your palm with a slight pressure that sent another wave of heat through you.

He followed you out of the bar without hesitation, his presence a quiet anchor against the chaos behind you. You moved through the door and into the cool night air, the streetlights casting long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a moment, the world outside felt slower—more in focus.

──

Once you settled into the car, the atmosphere shifted. You stared out the window, The last remnants of the night’s chaos were slowly disappearing as people filtered out of the bar, and your gaze caught on one familiar figure. A customer—a woman who’d complimented your eyes earlier—was leaving with a group of her friends. Her words replayed in your mind, and despite the exhaustion, a small smile tugged at your lips.

The car sat idling in the parking lot, the muted hum of the engine the only sound filling the space. But there was an underlying tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you and Jonah. The bar was still alive with the last murmurs of laughter and music spilling out the door, but here, in the quiet of the car, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Jonah's fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping betraying the quiet storm inside him. His jaw was tight, and his eyes, though fixed on the road ahead, seemed distant, lost in thought—or perhaps in something more. You could sense it, the subtle shift in his mood, the weight of something unspoken heavy in the air.

You knew why. The customer earlier, the one who had flirted with you. It had been harmless, you told yourself. But Jonah? He didn’t see it the same way.

“He was flirting with you before I got there?” Jonah’s voice broke through the quiet, low and almost casual, but there was an edge to it—a hint of jealousy that he couldn’t fully hide.

You tensed, a knot forming in your stomach. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft, unsure of how to navigate the space between you. “But you know I didn’t encourage it, right? You know I’d never—”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Jonah interjected, his tone clipped, his grip tightening around the wheel. You could feel the undercurrent of frustration in his words, a tension that felt like it was crackling just beneath the surface.

The air in the car grew heavier, and you couldn't help but glance at him, your heart aching as you caught the faintest trace of insecurity in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but you could see it—his fear of losing you, even to something as small as a fleeting glance from another guy.

Without thinking, you reached over and placed a gentle hand on his arm, your touch soft, grounding. "Jonah," you said, your voice low, filled with assurance. "I want you to know... there’s only you. I’m not interested in anyone else." You gave his arm a small squeeze, trying to convey everything you were feeling without words. You wanted him to hear the truth in your voice.

He exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking over to you for just a moment, his expression softening. But he didn't say anything right away. Instead, his eyes dropped to where your hand rested on his arm, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze. It made your chest tighten, your heart swelling with affection for him.

Before either of you could say more, the air between you two seemed to crackle with something new. Something undeniable.

You leaned forward slowly, your breath hitching in your chest as the distance between you closed. His lips found yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate—a kiss that spoke more than any words ever could. The tension you had both been holding onto melted away in an instant, replaced by a heat that felt like it was always meant to be.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Jonah’s hands slid to your hips, and without thinking, you shifted closer, your body instinctively pressing into his.

"I only want you," you whispered against his lips, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You could feel his heart racing against yours, the truth of your words echoing in the silence that followed.

Jonah’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you back into another kiss. This time, it was more urgent, more desperate, as if he needed this connection as much as you did.

Your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Slowly, you moved, straddling him, your body pressing against his as you settled into his lap. The moment you did, his hands moved to your waist, guiding you as you fit perfectly into the space between him and the car seat.

You could feel the heat of his body beneath you, the tension between you two crackling as you deepened the kiss once more. The need for him, for this closeness, surged through you.

Jonah’s breath hitched as you pulled away, looking him in the eyes with a tenderness that was almost overwhelming. “You’re mine, right?” he asked, the question laced with a hint of vulnerability.

You smiled softly, your lips brushing against his as you nodded. “Always.”

With that, Jonah’s hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his mouth finding yours again with a hunger that you matched. The world outside faded completely as you two were lost in each other, in the warmth, the heat, and the undeniable connection that only you and Jonah seemed to share.

The moment you pulled away, both of you breathless, you couldn’t help but smile, watching Jonah’s face shift through a range of emotions. His lips were swollen from your kiss, his eyes dark with desire, but there was a hesitation too, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should slow down or dive in headfirst.

You rocked your hips just slightly, teasing, savoring the way his expression changed with each subtle movement. Jonah groaned, his hands gripping the seat beneath him as his breath hitched. “Here?” he rasped, voice thick with both need and disbelief.

You smiled wider, leaning in again, this time kissing his neck slowly, letting your lips trail down the warm skin, leaving soft marks in your wake. The vibrations of his groans sent a shiver through you, deepening the desire that had been building in both of you since the moment he walked into the bar.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you even closer, but you were in control now. Your lips moved over his neck, finding the sensitive spots that made him shudder beneath you. The way he groaned, a mix of pleasure and frustration, made you smile even more, the power you had over him intoxicating.

Jonah’s breath was shallow now, his chest rising and falling quickly as you continued to kiss him, your lips tracing a path that made him tense and release in equal measure. His voice, low and desperate, broke the silence. “I don’t have any condoms”

You paused for just a moment, eyes locking with his, your lips hovering just above his skin, “I don’t care” and then, without a word, you leaned in to kiss him again, this time with more urgency. You could feel his heart racing beneath your touch, the heat between you both growing as you rocked against him again, slowly, teasingly. Jonah's hands slid down to grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he guided you to grind against him. He could feel your heat, even through the fabric of your clothes, and it made his mind cloud with desire. His hips bucked up to meet yours, seeking more of that delicious friction.

You could feel the heat building between your legs as you continued to grind against him. Your core throbbed with a need that could no longer be ignored, and you knew Jonah could feel it too. His hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movements as you slowly circled your hips, teasing him with the friction of your clothed sex rubbing against his hardening length.

Unable to resist any longer, Jonah's hands slid down to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race. "Can I?" he asked, his voice strained with desire. Before you could respond, he was already tugging your pants and panties down, his fingers brushing against your skin as he exposed your aching sex to the cool air of the car.

You lifted your hips, helping him remove the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and open to his hungry gaze. Jonah's eyes widened as he took in the sight of your glistening folds, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over your sensitive flesh, making you shiver with anticipation.

Unable to hold back any longer, Jonah slid a finger between your slick folds, groaning at the way your arousal coated his digit. "You're so fucking wet," he said, his voice rough with desire as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of your tight heat. "All for me?"

You could only whimper in response, your head falling back as you rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of his touch. Jonah added a second finger, then a third, stretching you and filling you in a way that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Jonah," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you with his fingers, curling them to stroke that special spot inside you with each thrust.

His other hand slid up your body, cupping and squeezing the soft swell of your breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak of your nipple. He pinched and rolled the sensitive bud between his fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his hand as you chased your pleasure. The wet sounds of your arousal filled the car, mixing with your increasingly desperate moans and cries

Jonah's fingers pumped faster, plunging deeper, as his thumb circled and teased your clit. His other hand squeezed your breast more firmly, rolling and tugging at your nipple until pleasure bordered on pain. The dual sensations had your back arching, pressing your chest further into his touch as you rode his hand with abandon.

"Fuck, the way you're moving...so desperate for it," Jonah groaned, his voice strained with arousal. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, growing tighter and more insistent with each thrust. "Gonna come all over my hand like this?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the dirty talk. You could only whimper in response, too lost in the pleasure he was giving you to form coherent words. Jonah took that as encouragement, doubling his efforts, his fingers slamming into you with a force that had the car shaking slightly.

"I can feel you getting closer," he said, his voice low and rough in your ear. Jonah's eyes flicked up to yours, dark and intense as he watched your reactions. His fingers continued their relentless assault, plunging deep and curling within your soaked, clenching heat. Just as you teetered on the brink of unraveling, he abruptly withdrew his hand.

Before you could protest or beg for more, Jonah's other hand fumbled with his belt, undoing it with a swift tug. His zipper followed, and then he was freeing his hard, throbbing erection from the confines of his jeans and boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight, a fresh surge of arousal flooding your core as you took in his impressive size.

Jonah wrapped one large hand around his shaft, stroking it slowly as he watched your face, gauging your reaction. "I need to be inside you," he said, his voice strained with urgent desire. "I can't wait any longer."

Without further preamble, Jonah gripped your hips, lifting you slightly before positioning himself at your entrance. The head of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing your opening, before he began to push forward with a steady, relentless pressure.

You gasped as the thick head of his shaft stretched you open, your body struggling to accommodate his size. Slowly, inch by hard inch, he pushed deeper, your walls stretching taut around him, gripping his thickness like a vice.

"Fuck," Jonah groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as he sank into your tight, wet heat. Hhis voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking perfect."

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling of fullness. Your heart raced, your chest heaving with ragged breaths as you savored the sensation of being so utterly filled by him.

Jonah began to move, slowly at first, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He set a steady, driving rhythm, the car rocking slightly with each powerful thrust of his hips.

Just as you began to lose yourself in the pleasure, the sound of a car door slamming shut nearby startled you both. You froze, realizing your passionate encounter was taking place in the parking lot, in full view of anyone who cared to look.

Jonah's eyes flicked back to yours, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we could have an audience," he murmured, not slowing his thrusts for a second. If anything, the thought of being watched only seemed to spur him on, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.

Jonah reached over to the center console, rummaging through the contents until his fingers closed around a small bottle of lube tucked away in the back. He pulled it out, holding it up with a wicked grin. "Always be prepared," he said with a wink, before setting it down on the console within easy reach.Keeping one hand on your hip, Jonah used the other to slick his fingers with the cool, slippery liquid. He brought his hand back to your joined bodies, rubbing the lubricated digits over your stretched, sensitive folds where he was hilted deep inside you.

You gasped as he circled your clit, the added slickness allowing his touch to glide over the swollen nub with ease. Jonah's fingers slid lower, tracing the crease of your sex before pushing forward, sinking knuckle-deep into your already stuffed channel alongside his throbbing shaft.

"Oh god," you whimpered, your back arching as your walls clenched down around both the thick intrusion of his cock and the probing fingers plunging in and out of your slick heat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear.

Jonah groaned, his own pleasure mounting as he felt your slick, velvet heat gripping him so tightly. He added a third finger, then a fourth, stretching you even further as he continued to pound into you.

The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. Jonah's thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he drove into you with increasing fervor.

"Come on, baby," Jonah encouraged, his voice a low, seductive purr.

His words, combined with the dual stimulation of his thick shaft and his busy fingers, sent you hurtling towards the edge. Your cries grew louder, more desperate, as the pleasure crested and then broke over you.

Your sex clenched down rhythmically, gripping Jonah's fingers and his cock like a vice as your orgasm ripped through you. Jonah groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt your release, before slamming into you one last time and finding his own completion with a harsh grunt of your name.

Jonah's body shuddered as he emptied himself inside you, his hot seed spurting deep into your still fluttering core. He continued to thrust shallowly, working you both through the aftershocks of your intense climaxes. Finally spent, he collapsed back against the driver's seat, pulling you with him so you were draped across his chest.

For a long moment, he just held you there, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. His fingers slid out of your sensitive sex, and he tucked the used lube bottle away. Jonah's hands stroked along your back, tracing soothing patterns on your skin as you both came down from your high.

Outside the car, the night seemed to have quieted, the few remaining patrons either leaving or finding their own vehicles to continue their nocturnal adventures. The cool air felt good on your heated skin, a pleasant contrast to the warmth emanating from Jonah's body beneath you.

Jonah tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen bottom lip as he gazed down at you with a satisfied smile. "You okay?" he murmured, his eyes soft and filled with a tender affection that made your heart flutter.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that spoke volumes about the connection you shared. It was a kiss that promised more than just physical pleasure - it was a promise of something deeper, something everlasting.

Jonah's arms wrapped around you as he held you close, his breath warm against your skin. The space between you felt charged, a quiet understanding settling in the air. The kiss had been more than a fleeting moment; it had been a connection that transcended the physical. You could feel the promise in his touch, the sincerity in the way his fingers lingered on your back.

As you nestled your head against the curve of his neck, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. You yawned, the soft sound escaping your lips, and Jonah's embrace tightened, grounding you in the moment. His voice, low and soothing, rumbled against your ear. "Let's go back home," he murmured, his words like a gentle caress.

You nodded, the comfort of his presence pulling you closer to the warmth of his body. But a playful smile tugged at your lips as you tilted your head up to look at him, your voice teasing. "For round two?" you asked, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

Jonah chuckled softly, the sound sending a ripple of warmth through your chest. "For a shower," he replied, his smile widening, knowing exactly where your thoughts had wandered.

You hummed, the playful glint in your eyes matching his as you gently traced the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "That sounds good too," you whispered, the soft, affectionate tone laced with both affection and anticipation. You could already imagine the cool water cascading over both of you, washing away the remnants of the night and leaving only the quiet intimacy that only the two of you shared.

──

author's note: all my request are finished now, please always feel free to send in more. i'll be working on a sequel to a certain well loved fic!

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva jonah #jonah zsakuva #jonah x reader #jonah x bartender #bartender

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