#soft week™

[moonchild-in-blue]

Not forgiving yall for making me believe Price was a proper Tired Old Man™. What do you MEAN he is canonically 38/39 💀

and what do you mean Soap is like? 27? sir you are but wee boy. where are your parents.

[lifemod17]

Get described fool!!

To me, you aren't something physical I can really write out in a full sense. More like a comforting memory sparked by the passing smell of something nostalgic. I'm gonna try my best to describe it still.

Skyscrapers branch skywards, gripping the halycon sky above like astronomers of an age far gone; drawing soft lines between each star and parting each cloud.

The sun dips below the horizon, letting Night with her inky fingers and bitten down fingernails creep in. Silver lined clouds dance across the sky in a rapturous waltz with the cool wind, sending swirling patterns across the deep blue above.

Almost looks like brushstrokes.

As day turns slowly into night, a sudden pink fills the sky, tracing soft fingers over clouds and singing tender songs to towering concrete obelisks.

Somewhere, in a building, in a home, in a kitchen, in a memory, a window lies wide open. Dinner is being cooked; a childhood food which you can never manage to bake the way your parents do. Through it, the last light of the sun creeps in. liquid pink sits on the cool tile, ebbing and flowing with each passing cloud.

If you were to look out, you'd see each swirl of cloud shining with the light of a sunset. Something light pink, lined with aerate gold and orange. The wind twirls the clouds, and, bit by bit, the sun dies down, and slowly let's the blanket of night drape over the ever moving city.

Dinner has been long eaten, but the sun still leaves you with a reminder of what was; a square of gold, tinged with pink, on the tiles. Night falls, and even the stars seem lined with gold tonight.

Although I don't have sunsets to share, I do have storm photos! Albeit blurry ones. Have a lovely timezone Tonee <3

my sweet darling Mel, I am at a complete loss of words to reply to this. I genuinely had to read some lines a few times because tears were obscuring my vision 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭💛💛💛

this is one of those letters you get that you just have to stick on the fridge, preferably near a window so the golden/pink rays of the sunset and sunrise will shine over it every day

Me after reading that:

Clutching my phone to my heart, I will treasure this for always my dear 💛🧡

THE STORMY SKY LOOKS VERY COZY THANK YOU

[scarlettjulz]

Ok, starting today, I'll be gone until malleleo week, unfortunately, I got not time whatsoever to draw the seven pieces, so I gotta ✨speedrun✨ the process. I'll try my best to share some snippets with you later ❤️

[starmocha]

Pillow Talk [Caleb/Reader ★ 2008 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] “Why are you wearing my boxers?” A/N: 😔 Me the other day, actually… [Approximately 2 PM on a random week day] Me: *doing 2 PM work things, being a Good Employee™* My Brain: Wearing Caleb’s boxers to sleep Me: YES MA’AM ON IT 🫡🫡🫡 Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @natimiles 【 request to be added 】

“Look at you…”

You felt the warmth of the bed cover pulled back, the sudden cool air made you shivered and curled up in bed. Still cold, you reluctantly opened your bleary eyes to find the cause of the sudden temperature change. You blinked your eyes a few times, allowing them to slowly adjust to the darkness that surrounded you. Although it took a few seconds for your vision to focus, you made out a familiar form in front of you.

“…Caleb?”

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” he said, his hair still dripping wet from his shower, the water droplets dampening the simple white t-shirt he wore along with a pair of navy-blue cotton pajama bottoms.

Caleb’s own eyes gazed at you, drifting down and lingering a few seconds appreciatively at the sight of the white lacy bralette you wore before he took notice of the familiar bottoms you had on. He huffed, feeling a strange mixture of emotions simultaneously, ranging from exasperation to amusement, but also with the faintest hint of arousal.

“They’re too big on you,” he said simply.

“I don’t care,” you responded defiantly, making Caleb chuckled in amusement at your cheek tone. He playfully poked your nose, your face scrunching up immediately in annoyance. You wriggled your nose at him, sighing exasperatedly, “Caleb…”

“Hm?”

You scooted over in bed, making room for him next to you. When he didn’t react, you batted your eyelashes playfully at him, his resolve weakened instantly as he gave in to your whims. Sighing, Caleb climbed into bed, settling comfortably on his side as he leaned over, his body just barely hovering above yours.

“So,” he drawled, his head tilted downwards and one of his hands already reaching for the waistband of your bottoms, “Why are you wearing my boxers?”

“Because I like them.”

“This girl…”

“I like everything of yours.”

“Clearly,” he said, tugging the boxers lower, his eyes gleaming at the intimate sight hidden beneath.

You stopped him. “Ca-Caleb…!”

“Hm?” He smiled at you in the darkness. Within seconds, he was gasping when you pushed him back, allowing him to sit fully upright with his back resting against the headboard, and he watched with intrigue as you climbed on top of him until you straddled him comfortably. He sighed again, “Your way then, pipsqueak?”

He breathed in sharply when he fully felt you over his pajama bottoms. “…you’re drenched,” he said, voice soft, his arousal becoming stronger. One hand cradled your chin, thumb brushing over your lips, and his eyes darkened with desire as he scrutinized your every feature. He appeared to struggle to remain composed, his voice a little hoarser than intended as he questioned you, “…what were you dreaming about?”

“You.”

“Me.”

“Uh huh.”

In Caleb’s mind, such brazen teasing meant that you were ready for anything he had in store. In seconds, you felt yourself instantly pulled closer to him, realizing belatedly that he had used his Evol to manipulate the gravity around you. There was no time to think or react, your lips suddenly crashed upon his, the intensity of his kisses stealing away your breath, your heart racing at lightning speed as you struggled to keep up with him.

“Tell me about your dream,” he mumbled lazily, the sounds and feel of his kisses were making you squirmed on top of him, and though his large calloused hands were on your hips, he didn’t appear to be too bothered enough to stop you from moving around. If anything, it felt like he was encouraging you.

“Mmm…” It took you a few seconds to register his words, your sleep-addled mind was barely alert, or at the very least, it was only able to focus on the feel of his member hardening beneath you. You instinctively grinded against it, making Caleb hissed in pleasure. His fingers dug into your flesh and you startled, realizing what was happening. Panting softly, you mumbled evasively, “…I don’t remember…”

“Liar,” he rebuked. He laughed off your pout. “You said it was about me…what was I doing in your dream?”

“Spending time with me.”

“Yeah? Like right now?” He humored you, clearly catching on quicker than you would have liked. It wasn’t surprising really, since it seemed Caleb always did know you better than even yourself.

You whimpered, feeling him just barely thrusting up, the thin cotton fabric not enough of a barrier to keep you from feeling him.

“Ca-Caleb…”

You guided his hands to the waistband of the boxers you wore—his, your brain mercilessly reminded you, fueling your steadily growing arousal—and with your silent permission, Caleb made quick work of pulling them down and discarding them off to the side of the bed.

“My boxers looked good on you,” he husked, his warm breath against your neck, your belly doing somersaults as you were more than acutely aware of his presence so close to you and also of his own desires mirroring yours. He continued in that same lazy tone, “But I think you look better without them—Just. Like. This.”

“Ah—!” You gasped, pitch higher than normal, into his neck, your hands gripping tightly his shoulders to ground yourself as you felt his fingers brushing against your sex. Instinctively, you rocked forward, wanting more of his touch against you—inside you—needing more friction than what he was giving you right now.

Your own fingers found their way to his pajama bottoms, tugging on the waistband impatiently. Laughing, he kissed your cheek as he helped you pulled his bottoms down enough to free himself. Eagerly, you rubbed yourself against him, his own aroused pants mingled with your soft moans.

“In-inside me…” you gasped, wanting to just sink down and take all of him in that moment.

That same, playful laughter of his resounded in your ears, piercing through the growing haze of lust that was clouding your mind. Your head was tilted upwards, pulled into another kiss as he happily swallowed all of those cute little needy whimpers you were making. “Not tonight,” he murmured to your frustration.

“Why not?” you demanded, annoyed.

“I kind of like seeing you all frustrated like this,” he admitted unashamedly.

Before you could even protest, he had you reduced to a helpless state, your mind unable to form a single coherent sentence, only able to focus in on the feeling of him suddenly rutting against you, every brush of his cock against your slicked lips had you trembling, begging and pleading for him to actually fuck you, but he ignored your helpless cries, delighting in seeing you fall apart, aching to have his cock fill your needy little pussy.

“Oh god, oh god, please, Caleb, please…!”

“That was a cute sound,” he mumbled in between kisses, his low groans making you craved him even more. “It’s just for me, right?”

You whimpered, practically sobbing, feeling overwhelmed by the desperate need to feel him pounding deeply inside you, but also well aware that the stimulation from him just humping against you was also enough to make you feel your climax quickly approaching.

“Please, Caleb, please, please, please…!”

He was breathing heavily, his control seeming to slip as he took in the sight of you so submissive to your pleasure, just begging him so cutely, he was ready to give in to you. Caleb inhaled sharply, his hands gripping your hips as you rubbed against him harder.

“Pl-please what…pipsqueak?” he asked, voice barely steady, “Want my cock inside you? Want me to fuck you that badly?”

“Ye-yes!”

“Why should I?” he asked, smirking as he continued to mess with you, your immediate whines the reaction he wanted. He grabbed your chin, making you locked eyes with him. His thumb pressed against your lips, his voice low and knowing, “Can’t even use your fucking words.”

“Caleb!” you cried into his shoulder. “Please…please…fuck me! Please fuck me! I need you so badly, Caleb! Please! I want your cock inside me! I need it inside me, Caleb!”

Caleb was panting heavily, his mind reeling in shock, not expecting you to actually beg him with such lewd words. “Damn it,” he groaned, his resolve broken completely in that moment as he felt you trembling on top of him, your desperate pleas unexpectantly turning him on more than he would have thought. He laughed hollowly, resigned, his hands grabbing your hips again. “Alright…you win…pipsqueak…”

You squealed as you felt him lifting you up and then guiding you down on his cock.

“So fucking wet,” he groaned, already setting a rapid pace, “you’re taking me…so well, pipsqueak���it’s like you were…made for me…”

Every thrust up was reaching you where you wanted and needed in that moment, your moans and cries mingled with Caleb’s heavy breathing and groans. He panted, “Your face…looks so erotic, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“D-don’t look at me like that—ah!”

As he bounced you on his cock, you were both lost in each other’s eyes, all words gone in that moment as you could only focus on the feel of him thrusting deeply into you, your walls squeezing him, every pulse had him groaning in pleasure, wanting to completely ruin you, make you completely his.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your moans growing in pitch as you felt your pleasure peaking, your cries coming out louder as Caleb started moving faster as he felt you nearing the edge, wanting to see you fall completely apart for him.

“Cum, cum on my cock,” he urged you, the feel of his fingers digging so painfully into your hips a sure sign that there would be bruise marks in the morning. He hissed and gasped, “That’s it…that’s it…good girl…cum...cum for me…”

“Caleb—! I’m…I’m…!”

As you rode out your pleasure, you could still feel Caleb driving himself into you faster and harder, showing no sign of stopping or slowing until his own climax was reached. You squealed as he used you, his hands groping along your body, his lips fumbled against yours and when he grazed his teeth over your shoulder, he finally released inside you, your name spilling from his lips in pure ecstasy.

You fell against him, weightless and spent, quietly sobbing into his chest, completely overstimulated, the lingering pleasure still wracking your body. His arms wrapped around, holding you close to him, safe and secured within his warmth.

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groaned, his eyes drifting to where you were both still connected, “So fucking…pretty…covered in my cum.”

You whined against his chest, and he laughed, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. When he pulled out of you, you could feel his release also flowing freely down your thighs.

“Hm, very pretty,” he murmured again, kissing your lips sweetly. He smiled when you responded the same. “So sweet and docile…”

He settled more comfortably in bed, dragging you to lay on top of him. Once again, you felt his familiar hand rubbing your back up and down, the soothing motion alongside his gentle voice quickly worked on lulling you back to sleep.

“Next time, I will spoil you, pipsqueak,” he promised, smiling as you lay against him.

You hummed into his chest happily.

“What do you want for breakfast in the morning?” he asked, his own eyes feeling heavy now as he began to nod off as well.

“Whatever,” you murmured into his chest sleepily.

“Whatever? Alright, I can make whatever,” he said, still able to joke with you. You giggled softly as he continued flippantly, “I can make you something Chinese, I can make you something English, I can make what…ever…”

He yawned in the middle of his sentence, his eyes no longer able to stay opened. As he let them drift close, he smiled again as he watched you fall asleep in his arms. His lips pressed to the top of your head, his mind slipping away into unconsciousness, and he joined you in a peaceful slumber, in a world where it was only just the two of you together—forever.

I can make you happy.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “MRS. WAYNE I THINK THIS IS FOR YOU!” ── .✦ ( bruce wayne wife headcannons )

a/n: this was request by a anon (here) so yeah but anyways I Lowkey used to be OBSESSED with like batmom stories but like I genuinely then lost all care for liking anything bruce wayne but this might just like help me (jason todd girly converts into a batmom Stan😭) tags: (bruce wayne x fem!reader)

CHAOTIC HEADCANNONS ── .✦

“No, Bruce. That’s Not a Normal Thing to Do.”

You frequently have to remind him that billionaire habits don’t translate to normal life.

Bruce: “I thought I’d buy out the café you like so you wouldn’t have to wait in line.”

You: “Bruce, we’re just getting lattes. Calm down.”

The expensive car Dilemma: He’s tried picking you up in one of his expensive cars once, and you’ve never let him live it down.

“Bruce, we’re not running a car dealership we’re going to Target.”

Tech Mishaps: Bruce likes to show off his gadgets, but they always malfunction around you. Once, the Batcomputer locked him out because you accidentally spilled coffee near it. You took a picture of his shocked face and made it your phone wallpaper for weeks.

The Disastrous Cooking Attempts: Bruce insists he can cook. The truth? Alfred banned him from the kitchen after he tried to “surprise” you with pancakes and set the stovetop on fire.

“I’m Batman, but I can’t handle pancake batter.”

OVERPROTECTIVE HUSBAND™ ── .✦

He’ll interrogate any new friends you bring around like they’re suspects in a heist.

Bruce, shaking someone’s hand firmly: “And what do you do for a living?”

You, glaring: “Bruce, they’re not applying to join the Justice League.”

GOSSIP FINAL BOSS ── .✦

He pretends not to care about gossip, but he secretly listens to you rant about gala drama. Sometimes, he’ll even chime in with hilariously accurate observations.

You: “That woman was glaring at me all night.”

Bruce: “Because she kept seeing her husband looking at you’re instagram posts. Trust me, Alfred told me.”

ROMANTIC HCS ── .✦

Constant Gentleman Mode: Bruce is always opening doors for you, carrying your bags, or pulling out your chair. You tease him about being old-fashioned, but it’s clear he loves taking care of you.

Private Dance Lessons in the Manor: When you’re stressed, Bruce will put on some music in the empty ballroom and sweep you into an impromptu dance. He’s a surprisingly good dancer, but the way he looks at you mid-spin? That’s what makes your heart race.

Personal Love Notes: Bruce doesn’t text much, but he leaves little handwritten notes around the house.

“Don’t forget, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Coffee’s ready downstairs. So is your husband, who can’t stop thinking about you.”

The ‘I’m Watching You’ Look: At galas, Bruce can’t stop staring at you. When you catch him, he gives that little smirk that says, Yeah, you caught me, but I’m not sorry.

Soft Batman Moments: Even in the Batcave, he has moments where he’s just your Bruce. When he sees you waiting up for him late at night, he’ll silently take off his cowl, walk over, and hold you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Protective, but Not Controlling: He worries, of course, but he respects your independence. If you’re ever in trouble, though, the Bat is out faster than you can blink. “No one touches my wife.”

Gift Giving Expert: He puts serious thought into gifts. One time, he recreated your childhood bedroom in the manor when you were feeling homesick. “I just wanted you to feel at home,” he said, completely nonchalant.

The Morning Ritual: He wakes up early to watch you sleep for a few minutes (in the least creepy way possible) because it’s his quiet reminder of how lucky he is. When you stir awake, he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers, “Good morning, love.”

Subtle Public Affection: In public, his affection is subtle—hand on the small of your back, thumb grazing your hand, or an almost imperceptible wink across the room. But behind closed doors? He’s all cuddles and kisses.

Always Puts You First: Whether it’s cutting a patrol short to spend time with you or risking everything to keep you safe, Bruce’s priority will always be you. “The city can wait. You can’t.”

MIX OF CHAOS AND ROMANCE ── .✦

When Bruce tries to be romantic but Alfred bringing him back to reality: Bruce, holding your hand: “You’re the light in my dark world.”

Alfred, walking in: “Sir, you said that to the last woman, too. Shall I fetch your script?”

You once jokingly wore a bat-symbol T-shirt to tease him. Bruce didn’t say anything, but later that week, he wore a matching shirt that said, “I <3 My Wife.”

[cheswirls]

have not touched this au since november but I keep going back to read it this week and these same four snippets always get me

[prettyfilmz]

THROB • JIMMY USO

author's note: hi my loves!! honestly have nothing to say other than this was a random idea that was born out of how fine jimmy looked here I hope y'all enjoy it😭

synopsis: in which you've been ovulating and taking your frustrations out on jimmy because you're too stubborn to ask him for what you need. lucky for you, jimmy knows just what to do to get you to act right.

tags: 18+(MDNI), jimmy uso x fem reader, established relationship, arguments, bratty behavior, teasing, breast sucking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), big jim™ , overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, creampie, slight humiliation, degradation, jimmy is a lil mean in this, dacryphilia, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, doggy style, mating press, small aftercare at the end.

word count: 3.2k words

You were pacing back and forth in the living room, arms crossed, your brow furrowed so tightly it could’ve scared the undertaker away.  Every little thing Jimmy did irritated you, though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. He sat there on the couch, broad shoulders relaxed, his tattoos flexing subtly as he scrolled through his phone. His usual goofy grin wasn’t there, though. He was watching you, trying to hold back his amusement.

“Why you stompin’ ‘round here like a lil’ ass gremlin, huh?” Jimmy’s deep voice cut through your mumbling, making you whip your head toward him.

“I ain’t stompin’, Jimmy! Maybe if you’d do somethin’ helpful for once like puttin’ your damn shoes away from in front of the door instead of sittin’ there, I wouldn’t be irritated!” You snapped, your tone sharp.

Jimmy slowly raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. That cheeky grin started creeping back onto his face, and it only made you more annoyed. “Girl, ain’t no way you talkin’ to me like that. You been barkin’ at me all week, and I let it slide ‘cause I know what timing you’re on. But you really gon’ sit here and act like I don’t know why you mad?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms tighter.  “I ain’t mad, Jimmy.”

“Oh, so you just bein’ a brat for fun?  I’m supposed to believe that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smirk widening as he caught the way your thighs clenched together at the shift in his tone.

Your body betrayed you. It always did when he was around, especially now.  The heat between your legs was unbearable, and your nipples were pebbled, brushing against the soft fabric of your tank top in a way that had you biting back whimpers. Normally, you’d have your vibrator for relief when he was on the road, but he’d been home all week. Which fucked up your usual routine you had going and now you're too stubborn to ask him.

Jimmy tilted his head, his dark eyes dragging over your body like he already knew what you were hiding.  “Yeah, see, I know exactly what’s goin’ on with you, baby girl. You think you tough huh? You don’t even need to tell me nothin’.  I can see it in the way you walkin’ ‘round here all moody.”

“Jimmy, shut up,” you shot back, though your voice cracked slightly.  He noticed.

“Nah, I’m gon’ keep talkin’.  Matter fact, come here,” he said, his voice taking on that commanding edge that made your knees weak.

You hesitated, shooting him a glare.  “Why?”

“‘Cause I said so, that’s why. Don’t make me come over there and get you.” He leaned back, spreading his legs in that laid-back, cocky way that showed off the sheer size of him. His gray sweats left nothing to the imagination, and the way his dick pressed against the fabric had your mouth watering despite your irritation.

With a heavy sigh, you walked over, but your attitude wasn’t going anywhere.  “What, Jim?  You gon’ keep talkin’ shit?”

He chuckled, reaching out to grab your wrist and tugging you between his legs.  “Girl, you just mad ‘cause you’re neglecting what you need. But you too damn stubborn to ask for it, huh?” He let his hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them as he pulled you closer.

“Jimmy, I swear to God—”

“You swear to God what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower.  His thumbs pressed into the softness of your hips, holding you in place.  “You ain’t gon’ do shit, baby. Stop frontin’.”

The heat in his gaze melted your resolve, but you couldn’t let him win that easily.  “You just know everything, huh?”

He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear.  “I know you ovulatin’,” he murmured. “And I know you ain’t been able to take care of yourself like you usually do. You need daddy to take care of you, hm?”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to step back, but his grip tightened.  “Jimmy, stop playin’—”

“Who said I’m playin’?” He tilted his head up to look at you, his expression softening just enough to make your heart flutter.  “Why you bein’ difficult, huh? This what you wanted, ain’t it?”

You tried to keep up your defiance, but when his lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t hold back the shiver that coursed through you.  “Jimmy…”

“There she is,” he teased, pulling back to look you in the eyes.  “Now, you gon’ ask me nice, or you gon’ keep actin’ like a spoiled lil’ brat?”

Your pride wrestled with your desire, but the way his hands roamed your body and his voice dripped with authority had you caving.  “Please,” you whispered, barely audible.

He cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.  “Please what, baby? Let daddy hear you.”

“Please, daddy,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A satisfying grin spread across his face as he leaned back, patting his thigh. “There we go.  Now, sit that pretty ass down.  You got some apologizin’ to do.”

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him as his hands immediately found their way under your tank top.  His palms were warm against your bare skin, sliding up to cup your breasts.  You gasped when his thumbs brushed over your sensitive nipples, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn, these are real sensitive, huh?” he said, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud, and your hips bucked against him involuntarily.

“Shit!” you cried out, clutching his shoulders as your body betrayed every ounce of control you thought you had left.

“Shh, baby, let me take care of you,” he murmured, switching to the other nipple.  His teeth grazed it gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You whimpered, grinding against him as the pressure built inside you.  “Daddy, please, I need…”

“I know what you need, baby girl.  But you gon’ learn not to keep this shit from me.” His hands slid down to your ass, giving it a firm slap that made you yelp.  “Next time, you gon’ tell daddy what you need, understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your lips softly before flipping you over onto the couch.  “Now, lay back and let daddy handle the rest.”

Jimmy hovered over you now, his larger frame trapping you beneath him on the couch.  His hands gripped your thighs possessively, thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers straight to your core. You stared up at him, panting, your chest heaving as his dark eyes raked over you. That playful grin he usually wore was gone, replaced by something darker, more intense. He licked his lips like a predator sizing up its prey, and you couldn’t help but squirm beneath him.

“Mm-mm,” he growled, pressing his hands down harder to still your movements. “Ain’t no runnin’, baby. You wanted this, didn’t you?  All week, you been actin’ up snappin’, throwin’ them lil’ ass tantrums, tryna to act like you don’t need me. But I know you,” His voice almost in a mocking tone.  “Your body been screamin’ for me since I came back, mama.”

You whimpered, your pride dissolving under the weight of his words.  “I—Jimmy, please…”

“Please what?” His hands slipped beneath your shorts, gripping the soft flesh of your ass. “What you need from daddy?”

The way he said it so smooth, teasing, but dripping with authority had your resolve crumbling completely. “I need you to fuck me,” you breathed, barely audible.

He smirked, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear.  “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?  But you still owe me an apology, baby.  You gon’ tell daddy you sorry for bein’ a brat?”

Your cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you whispered.

“Mean it,” he says, his tone sharp enough to make you obedient. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you exactly who was in control here.  “I know you can do better than that.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you whimpered out, your voice trembling with need.

Jimmy grinned, clearly satisfied. “Good girl.  Now let’s see if you can keep that same energy when I’m done with you.”

Before you could respond, he tugged your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, leaving you completely exposed.  His eyes locked onto the slickness between your thighs, and he let out a low whistle.  “Damn, look at you. I didn’t even touch you yet and you already wet as hell.”

You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn’t let you.  “Jimmy, don’t tease me…”

“Who you think you talkin’ to?” he shot back sharply, grabbing your knees and spreading them wider.  “You don’t call the shots here, baby girl. Now stay still.”

His hands gripped your thighs as he lowered his head in between your legs. The first swipe of his tongue against your clit had you crying out, your hips jerking off the couch.  Jimmy chuckled, pinning you down with ease.  “I said be still, didn’t I?  You gon’ listen, or you want me to tie you down?”

“D-daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a moan as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue working you over with precision.  The combination of his lips, tongue, and the slight scrape of his teeth had your body trembling uncontrollably.

You tried to squirm away when the pleasure became too much, but Jimmy wasn’t having it.  He slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right to hit that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars.  “Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he growled, his voice muffled against your pussy.  “This what you wanted, huh? So take it.”

You sobbed his name, your nails digging into the couch as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.  He didn’t let up, his pace relentless as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit. “Oh my God, Jimmy, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you gon’ cum for daddy?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming as he looked up at you. “Do it, baby.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, and you came hard, your back arching off the couch as your orgasm tore through you.  You screamed his name, your thighs shaking as he kept working you through it, refusing to let up.  “That’s my girl,” he murmured, licking his lips as he finally pulled back. “You look so pretty when you cum, baby.”

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling his sweats down, freeing himself.  It was as thick and heavy as ever, and the sight of it made your mouth water.  He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You ready for this, baby? You gon’ be good for me?”

“Please, daddy,” you begged, your voice shaky. “I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, positioning himself at your entrance. He slid the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you until you were whining in frustration. “Damn, you so wet, baby.  You gon’ take all of me, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you plead. “Please put it in..”

Jimmy finally pushed inside, and the stretch had you gasping, your nails clawing at his arms.  “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “You so fuckin’ tight, baby. Been missin’ me, huh?”

You could barely form words, the fullness of him stealing your breath.  “Fuck… yes daddy,” you managed to choke out, your legs trembling as he buried himself to the hilt.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling back and slamming into you again.  “This my pussy, baby. Don’t forget that.”

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you. Each thrust sent delicious shockwaves through your body, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You were already on the verge of another orgasm, your body still sensitive from your previous release.

“Why you runnin’, baby?” he teased, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.  “This what you been actin’ out for, huh?  So take it.”

“I’m tryin’ daddy!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as your second orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed beneath him, and you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his pace faltering for a moment. “You squirtin’ for me now? you so fuckin’ nasty, that’s my good girl.”

But he didn’t stop. If anything, he fucked you harder, flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so he could take you from behind.  The new angle had you screaming into the disarrayed couch cushions, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“You gon’ tell daddy you sorry again?” he growled, spanking your ass hard enough to leave a sting.  “Say it.”

“I’m sorry, daddy!” you cried out, your voice muffled. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Yeah, you gon’ be good now, huh?” He gripped your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you mercilessly.  “You ain’t got no choice, baby. Daddy gon’ fuck all that attitude outta you.”

Jimmy didn’t let up for a second. His grip on your hair kept you pinned in place as his cock slammed into you relentlessly, the sound of your ragged cries filling the room. You could feel the heat of his body pressing down on yours, his weight anchoring you as if there was no escape—not that you wanted there to be anyway.

“Look at you,” he growled, leaning over until his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was hot and heavy, dripping with amusement.  “All that attitude, all that shit talkin’, and now you cryin’ for daddy, huh? You so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. All obedient for me.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you.  Your body was overstimulated, every nerve on fire, and the wetness between your thighs only made it worse. “D-daddy, it’s too much,” you choked out, trembling beneath him.

“Too much?” he repeated mockingly, pulling your head back further until you were arching against him.  “Nah, baby, you can take it.”

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made your back bow, another broken sob spilling from your lips. Tears were streaking your cheeks as he fucked you harder, his pace unrelenting.  The sting of another spank sent a jolt through you, the sharp pain only intensifying the overwhelming pleasure.

“Tell me what you is,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.  “Go on, baby.  Say it.”

“I’m—I’m your slut, daddy,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans.

“Damn right you are,” he snarled, slamming into you so hard the couch creaked beneath you.  “And don’t you forget it. This is my pussy.  Say it.”

“It’s yours, daddy..fuck!” you cried out, your voice breaking as you felt another orgasm building, threatening to drown you.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling out suddenly and flipping you onto your back before you could even catch your breath.  He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he lined himself up again. “And I’m gon’ remind you every fuckin’ time you forget.”

The first thrust in this position had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your nails clawing at his arms as his cock hit a deeper angle. His weight pressed down on you, forcing your thighs against your chest as he pounded into you like he had something to prove.  You could feel the muscles in his arms flexing beneath your hands, his strength keeping you pinned in place as he wrecked you.

“Fuck, baby, you feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal.  “Feel how deep I am?  I’m right where I’m supposed to be, fillin’ that pussy up. And you gon’ take all of me like a good girl, huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his biceps as the pressure built inside you.  “Please don’t stop—please…”

He smirked, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.  The heat of his tongue against your sensitive skin sent you spiraling, your back arching as you came again, harder this time. Your body convulsed beneath him, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride as he watched you fall apart beneath him.  “That’s my girl.  You so good for me, baby.  So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

 Even as your body trembled and tears streaked your cheeks, he kept going, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls with every brutal thrust.  “You said you wanted it, baby,” he teased, his tone both mean and sweet. “You been talkin’ shit all week so don’t tap out now.”

“Daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a choked sob as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. His hips snapped against yours with a punishing rhythm, the pleasure teetering dangerously close to pain.

“You cryin’, baby?” he taunted, leaning down to kiss the tears off your cheeks.  “Aw, don’t tell me it’s too much now.”

“I can’t—Jimmy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.  “You gon’ take it, baby. You was made for this dick, and I’mma remind you every fuckin’ time.”

He reached down between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.  The added stimulation sent you spiraling, another orgasm tearing through you before you could stop it.  You whimpered his name, your body trembling violently as your walls clenched around him.

“Shit,” he groaned, his pace faltering as your orgasm milked him.  “You tryna make me cum, baby?  You want daddy to give you a baby, huh?  Want me to fill this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you whined, your voice trembling with desperation.  “Please cum in me, daddy.”

That was all it took. With a low growl, Jimmy slammed into you one last time, his cock twitching as he came deep inside you. The warmth of his release filled you, and you moaned at the sensation, your body shuddering beneath him. He didn’t pull out right away, instead grinding into you slowly, making sure you felt every last drop.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “You did so good for me. Took it all like a damn champ.”

You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.  “Thank you, daddy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.  “Ain’t no need to thank me, baby.  You earned that.”

Jimmy finally pulled out, and you winced at the emptiness.  He watched as his cum dripped out of you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.  “Damn, look at that.  You so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

Your face heated up, turning your face away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.  “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his voice softer but no less commanding.  “You did good, baby. Real good.  Daddy’s so proud of you.”

A small smile crept onto your lips despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “I love you, Jimmy.”

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, kissing your forehead.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up.  You gon’ need your strength for round two.”

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[deadrobinthoughts]

♡. Mobile post. Hcs & a small scenario for Damian and his "Pastel, yapper gf". Enjoy, anon.

The Ultimate Grumpy/Sunshine Dynamic™ – If anyone ever needed a perfect example of opposites attract, it’s you and Damian. He’s broody, reserved, and always looks mildly irritated, while you’re a walking bundle of pastels, excitement, and nonstop chatter.

He Pretends He Doesn’t Listen, But He Memorizes Everything – You could be talking a mile a minute about something completely random, and Damian will look like he’s ignoring you… but then two weeks later, he’ll casually bring up that one obscure fact you mentioned about some show or hobby you like, just to prove that he was paying attention. (And yes, it makes your heart explode every time.)

Hand-Holding as a Muzzle Tactic – If you’re talking too much in public (and it’s overwhelming him), he will silently grab your hand and squeeze it, his way of telling you: "Enough, beloved. My brain is melting." (It works about 30% of the time.)

Acts Bothered by Your Energy, But Thrives Off It – If you weren’t around, Damian would absolutely go back to brooding in a corner, drowning in his own sharp thoughts. But with you? His world is louder, brighter, and somehow softer all at once. Even if he doesn’t always respond to your rambles, the sound of your voice makes him feel at peace.

Death Glares Anyone Who Tries to Shut You Up – You can talk his ear off all you want, but the second someone else tells you to be quiet? Damian is more than ready to say something. (Only he is allowed to get mildly annoyed by your endless chatter. Everyone else must deal with it. Perks of being in love.)

Calls You “Beloved” Unironically – He says it so effortlessly, so casually, that you almost forget how incredibly romantic and old-fashioned it is. But hearing that deep, serious voice say: "Beloved, focus." or "Calm yourself, beloved." always makes you melt. He'll say it without even realizing.

The “Secretly Soft for You” Phenomenon – Damian isn’t affectionate in public, but when you’re alone? He’s all over you. He’ll have you curled up in his lap, arms wrapped around you like you’re his personal stress relief, all while he pretends you’re the one being clingy (even though he literally hasn’t let go of you in two hours).

Has No Patience for Social Events, But Goes Just to Make You Happy – You drag him to pastel-themed cafés, bookstores, art exhibits, and other bright, aesthetic places. Damian hates being surrounded by crowds and noise, but he’ll suffer through it just to see you happy. (And if anyone so much as brushes against you? He’s throwing a glare so intense it could set them on fire.)

Deadpan Humor That Pairs Too Well With Your Chatter – You: “Dami, what if frogs had tiny little raincoats? Can you imagine—” Damian, completely monotone: “Why must you plague me with these thoughts.” (But later that night, he actually sketches a tiny frog in a raincoat for you.)

Steals Your Pastel Hoodies Because They Smell Like You – He will never admit it, but if you ever leave a soft, oversized hoodie lying around, it somehow ends up on Damian while he reads or works on something. (If you bring it up? He just says, “It was the closest article of clothing.”)

His Love Language is Acts of Service & Physical Touch – Damian isn’t great with words, so his love is shown through actions—making sure you eat, walking on the dangerous side of the road, pulling you onto his lap after a long day without a single word, etc.

He’s the Calm to Your Chaos (And Vice Versa) – If you trip over your own feet because you’re too excited about something, Damian is already catching you effortlessly without even looking up from his book.

You’re the Only Person Who Can Get Him to “Smile” in Public – It’s subtle, just the slightest softening of his normally sharp features, but everyone notices it. (It’s why people are always shocked he actually has a soul.)

“How Did I End Up With You?” Energy – Sometimes, Damian just stares at you when you’re talking (or singing off-key, or dancing around the living room) like he’s genuinely confused about how someone like him got stuck with someone like you. Of course, not "stuck" in a bad manner.

Knows Exactly When to Let You Talk and When to Pull You Into Silence – He’s never rude about it, but when your energy turns from excited rambling to nervous over-explaining, Damian will cut you off mid-sentence by gently cupping your face and saying: “Enough. You are alright.” (And just like that, the world feels a little less overwhelming.)

You Make Him Soft & He Has No Idea How to Deal With It – Sometimes, when you’re asleep, Damian just traces his fingers over your cheek, like he’s trying to figure out how he let himself fall this hard.

Refuses to Call You By Your Full Name – He never calls you by your full name because why would he? You’re his beloved, and only that title matters.

If You Get Sick, He Goes Full Caretaker Mode Trying to Fix It – "Who made you ill? Who do I have to kill?" "Dami, it’s just a cold—" "Unacceptable."

Secretly Thinks Your Energy Is “Refreshing” – He’ll never say it out loud, but being with you is like breathing fresh air for the first time in his life. You bring color, life, and laughter into his otherwise sharp, guarded world.

If You Cry, He Panics (Internally) – Damian isn’t great with comforting words, but he’ll pull you into a firm hug, pressing soft, fleeting kisses to the top of your head, whispering, "You do not have to face anything alone, my love."

Your Chatter Helps Him Sleep – Damian is so used to nightmares that it’s hard for him to fall asleep… unless you’re talking. Your soft voice, your presence, your warmth—it makes everything quiet in his mind for once.

He’ll Never Say It, But He Loves Being Around You 24/7 – If you ever stop talking abruptly, Damian looks up instantly, as if searching for you.

If He Ever Loses You, He Will Burn the World to Find You Again – Period. A reasonable response.

He Doesn’t Do PDA—Except for You. In public, he’s gruff but still keeps a hand on your waist or fingers intertwined. In private? He will curl into you like a cat who refuses to let go.

You Make Him Believe in Love, Even When He Never Thought He Could Have It – At the end of the day, Damian never expected to have someone like you—but now that he does? He’ll protect it with his life.

—

The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It was one of those rare, quiet mornings, where Gotham’s usual chaos had yet to intrude, and Damian, for once, was still in bed.

You, on the other hand? Fully awake, wrapped in the coziest pastel sweater imaginable, and absolutely buzzing with thoughts.

"Okay, Dami, listen," you started, propped up on your elbows, looking down at him where he lay, face buried in the pillow, refusing to function yet. "What if—no, hear me out—what if cats had tiny little backpacks? Like, for their little cat belongings? Where would they even go?? Like, imagine Alfred with his own tiny bag! Wouldn’t that be adorable? What do you think he’d keep in it?"

Silence.

You paused, then gently poked his cheek.

Still nothing.

Finally, after a long, suffering sigh, Damian shifted just enough to glance up at you, narrowed green eyes sharp despite his grogginess.

"Beloved." His voice was low, hoarse from sleep, but dripping with deadpan exhaustion.

You beamed, undeterred. "Yes, my love?"

His gaze dragged over you, taking in your bright, bouncy energy compared to his own half-conscious, definitely-not-awake self.

Then, finally—

"Why must you do this to me first thing in the morning?"

You gasped dramatically, hand pressed to your heart. "Excuse me, sir, but I am merely blessing you with my intellectual wonders!"

Damian exhaled sharply—not quite a sigh, not quite amusement, but something in between. He shifted onto his side, grabbing your wrist, pulling you down against him in one swift, seamless motion.

You let out a small squeak as you landed chest to chest with him, your face inches from his, suddenly trapped under the warm weight of his arm resting lazily across your waist.

“…Dami?”

He hummed, already burying his face into the crook of your neck, voice muffled against your skin. "If I hold you here, will you stop talking?"

You snorted. "Absolutely not."

His lips ghosted against your shoulder, and though he was too stubborn to admit it, you could feel the small, amused smirk hidden against your skin.

"Then at least let me suffer in peace, beloved."

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him, fingers tangling lazily in his sleep-mussed hair.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

For all of Damian’s complaints, for all of his grumpy little comments, he still held you close, his grip never loosening, his presence warm and completely unwilling to let go.

Yeah. He could pretend all he wanted. But you knew the truth.

Your endless chatter was his favorite sound in the world.

(And later that day, when you found a tiny handmade cat backpack on your desk with a note in Damian’s sharp handwriting that simply read: "For Alfred."… You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk as he walked past you, pretending he had nothing to do with it.)

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐈����’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

synopsis: hoyov. dragons in heat + preferred positions and when they’re most desperate

tags: face riding, cunnalingus, overstimulation, 69

wrd cnt: 0.7k

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

Neuvillete

Neuvillette, can barely handle finishing his workday without you around. He tells himself he'll run back to you at the end of the day and cherish every part of you...after all the cases are looked over of course.

He caves, just like the last time. Seeing you walk into his office felt like salvation, and it tasted even sweeter. Well, you, tasted even sweeter. It didn't take him long until he pulled you onto his lap, letting you feel his members against your clothed cunt.

As soon as it was too much to bare, he threw you onto the table; the documents splayed out now irrelevant after a much more important matter was presented. As much as Neuvillette wanted to take his time, he couldn't help folding up that pesky skirt to your hips and pulling your panties off, throwing them off to the lamp where they hung like decoration, as his lips kissed your clit before his tongue circled it, sucking and tugging on it so eagerly it made you spasm as you gently pull on his hair, his palms holding your hips open for his face to delve the deepest it could into your cunt. He felt your legs shake and twitch as your back arched against the hard wood of his desk, as he stroked his self under the desk. His cum wouldn't stop leaking out, dripping onto his knees and even the floor as he moaned into you; considering pushing his entire schedule until later just so he could stuff them both into you.

Zhongli

Zhongli, whose most difficulty in restraint is when he's first awake. His heat basically wakes him up itself, like an empty and starving stomach, he needs relief immediately. Glancing to his left to see your perfect warm face, hair cascaded over the pillow and the blanket barely covering your indulgent figure; you were his antidote.

It starts so innocently, waking up with a gentle greeting and kisses to your head and cheek, but don't you dare kiss him on the lips so early in the morning. Not during this week.

On the chance you did, he'd have you struggling to fit both his cocks into your mouth while he shoved his tongue into your sloppy hole. He loved how your pliant body sat right above his face, smelling your sweet scent when he buries his face in it, the dripping arousal from your pussy coating his mouth and cheeks, hearing your desperate moans while he coaxed them out of you. Loud whines and mewls falling past your lips as he became drunk on your taste, his hands leaving prints on your hips in the process.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng, never thought he'd become so needy and clingy to someone like this. After his true form had expressed itself, old issues started to arise that he thought he'd be able to handle on his own; not wanting to rely on you for his behavior. But how could he? When you leaned over his shoulder to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, when you let your hand rest on his waist after each hug, how he just wishes he could suppress all his dragonly urges to push you against the wall and drain you of all your essence.

But all he can do is wish.

It's almost midnight, and Dan Heng is just barely getting started as he's licking up all the remnants of your squirting warm cum that's painted his face. Legs shaking and lips quivering, you feebly grind your pussy onto his soft tongue.

His groans following your hips, steadily tonguing your clit, pumping his slender fingers in your cunt as his tail wraps itself around your thigh; keeping your legs wide open for him. His tail tightening its grasp, not wavering, as Dan Heng loudly groans, licking your clit faster as he’s chasing his own high.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[simpjaes]

how about when the hyung line is just too big for ur little tight cunt? need the mtl please bcs I think it'll be HOT!

hyung line + cock too big, pussy too little syndrome ™

warning: size kink, reader is described as small compared to each member, use of words like: little, tiny, small, tight, kinda dub con. note: this is not an mtl, it's just a drabble for each hyung line hottie.

★ heeseung:

Fuck.

Heeseung knew he was bigger than average but...fuck. When he brought you home from the party he honestly expected you to be able to take it. All of it in one go, really. But no. Barely half of his cock is in you and you're shaking. Clinging to him with a pained look on your face, taking in deep breaths to adjust only to moan out of pain when he tries to push in a little more.

It's kind of driving him fucking wild. Especially in the way he's used to hearing girls moan and groan about how perfectly sized he is, about how big and painful it can be. You though, you can barely fucking take it, unlike those other girls.

Goddamn.

"Yeah." He starts, looking you straight in your teary eyes as he painfully presses in further. "Gonna open that pussy up for me, aren't you?"

You frantically nod, feeling his cock reach so deep inside of you, feeling his girth nearly tear you apart. It's like with each little push, he hits a wall that should tell him to stop, but he only pushes further. Past the block and penetrating your soft and insanely tense walls.

"Tiny." He grits his teeth, pushing, pushing, pushing until he's stuffed his entire length in you. "So fucking tiny."

☆ jay:

"Just a little more," Jay coos at you, rubbing your waist as he slowly presses in. "Hold onto me." He knows well enough that it doesn't feel good for you. Not yet at least. And when he watches you shake your head, trying hard to breathe through the feeling of his thick and darkened head pushing and prodding you open, he can't help but continue to talk you through it. "No?" He whispers in his own half-moan, still pressing in, inch by inch. "I'm already almost in baby, you can take it." He's right about it too, seeing as how you've taken it before. Given, that was only once considering this is only the second time you've hooked up with him. You're not sure why you called him of all people, remembering how difficult it was to get his full cock inside of you last time and the soreness that came after. Then again, maybe it's because of his consistent texting since that night. Not even sexting either. Just gentle conversation, interesting conversation. Like maybe this doesn't need to be a hook-up sooner or later. Who knows? And it continues like this. He presses an inch in, pauses, lets your tight cunt jerk him off, then he tells you to breathe and pushes in another inch. You're so wet too, he's practically obsessed. Never has a pussy so small taken him in full like this, then again, it's not like he's ever been with someone this tight and this fucking tiny. Obsessed is right. No matter how fucking wet you get for him, it doesn't make the slide any easier, even when you're relaxed, you're still so tight around him. Just like now, where he can finally move and fuck you without holding himself back. Which is hard to do, mind you. You cling to him through each painful and bruising thrust, and he lets you. Flexing every muscle in his body so you have something to really hold on to.

And god the way you moan through the pain. He would make you cum in an instant, he thinks, with the way you start moving your own hips to match his rhythm.

The wet sound squelching, like music to his ears especially when paired with your needy whines. "Feels so good, doesn't it baby?"

★ sunghoon:

All day. All fucking day Sunghoon could do this if that's what it takes. Three weeks since you started dating, the first time you had his cock in your hand was also the first time you decided to be afraid to let him fuck you. Something so huge cannot naturally fit inside of you without him blatantly impaling you and probably landing you in the hospital. But god, does he know how to get you horny. With those pretty fingers offering just not enough to be satisfied. With his tongue swiping perfectly but never being filled to full capacity. It's the first time you've even considered letting him stick his dick in you, and arguably, you see why you avoided it until now when he finally does start sliding in. It's not that the thickness hurts, it's just that fact that the fucking slide never stops. You could have sworn he had his whole dick in you ten seconds ago, considering he fucked himself in and out of you a few times before sliding in more. The reach is deeper than you've ever felt. A sharp pain hitting you right in the center of the gut only for him to manage to push in even further. You swear he's breaking something in you and he isn't even actually fucking you just yet. "There you go." Sunghoon coos once he finally bottoms out in you, reaching his hand forward to trace his fingers along your lips. "See? You can take it, love." For just a second, you believed him. But then he started fucking moving. God, you're seeing stars and planets and heaven and hell all in one thrust. He pulls his hips back so far just to slam into you. He knows it hurts too, but he can't be gentle when you're looking like this. So small lying under him, just fucking taking it.

☆ jake:

Jake barely realized you were in pain before he felt your fingernails scratching down his back and you whimpered out a small "take it out." He pulled back to look at you in shock, rutting his hips back and forth into your swollen and glistening hole. It's only been a few seconds since he pushed in, and it's the first time he's ever been asked to take it out?! For you though, you were expecting him to take it slow. Not get between your legs and fucking sink into you without so much as letting you adjust to his size before pounding it into your cervix. He does as he's told though, sliding out just as painfully as he slid in before gripping his cock and holding it just at your entrance. "What? Why?" He asks, not realizing he had knocked the breath out of himself stuffing such a cock in that tight space. "You're...big," You look away from him, feeling embarrassed that you really just told him to fucking pull out. "Too big." Only now does Jake smile, a glint in his eye growing dark and even more aroused than he already was.

"Oh, yeah?" He smiles, teasing your hole with the head of his cock. "You don't think you can take it?" He continues, pressing right back into you and now relishing in that small, tight heat you wish he'd be gentle with. You shake your head frantically, opening your mouth in a silent sob as he uses you, slamming in and out. In, out, in, out. "You already are, babe." He grunts, hunching over to attach his lips to your nipple. "Taking it so fucking well too." You're not sure why that makes you feel proud, but it does.

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris putting singer!reader moans in his songs

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris puts an erotic twist into one of his tracks

you're sat in the dimly lit studio, the faint smell of weed and a hint of cologne lingering in the air.

chris is next to you at the mixing console, a pair of headphones draped casually around his neck with a joint between his fingers. he has his signature grin on his lips, the one that’s equal parts mischievous and confident. he looks excited, but you're not sure what's got him all riled up.

“i got sum'n f'you,” he says, his voice brimming with excitement.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “what’s that look for?” you tease, a smirk on your lips.

he hums, prodding his tongue at the inside of his cheek, swiveling around to face the console, “you’ll see.”

chris hits play, and the track begins. the bassline is smooth, the beat infectious, and his flow—well, it’s chris, so it’s good. really good.

the lyrics are a bit erotic, though it's nothing you haven't heard chris rap about before. but this is different, it's more intimate, more descriptive, more sexy.

you’re nodding along, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm. then, about halfway through, something catches your attention. chris is watching you, the same half excited half playful smirk on his lips as he takes a drag from the joint.

you lean forward, your ears straining. no fucking way...

the song continues, and there’s no mistaking it now. layered into the beat, perfectly timed with the drops and rhythm, are soft, intimate moans—your moans.

your jaw drops, and for a second, you can’t process what you’re hearing.

“chris!” you yell, eyes wide as you whip your head toward him, a grin of disbelief on your mouth.

he’s already laughing, leaning back in his chair like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction. “y'like it?” he says between chuckles, his wicked grin spreading even wider as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“there's no fucking way,” you manage to choke out, half mortified, half trying not to laugh yourself.

“you put my moans in a song?! when did you even—how did you—?” your voice trails off, your mind a whirlwind of confused thoughts and questions.

“last week when we fucked in'ere, y'don't remember, ma?” he asks, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you groan, covering your face in your hands as you lean forward in your chair. you're still in disbelief, but part of you thinks this is definitely something chris would do.

he's snickering beside you, "oh, my bad...forgot y'were too busy ridin' me, guess y'didn't notice i started recordin'," he jokes cockily, almost as if he's taunting you, his voice a bit muffled by the joint between his lips as he takes another drag.

you can’t help the giggle that escapes. “chris, you’re insane. my mom listens to your music!”

he leans closer, his expression softening slightly as he tries to reassure you with a hand on your knee. “relax, ma. nobody’s gonna know s'you, people put moans in songs all the time. besides,” he adds, flashing that signature smirk again, “y'sound so pretty.”

you pick your face up, cheeks slightly rosy as you flash him a mocking glare. “you’re unbelievable," you chuckle.

“admit it,” he says as he passes you the joint, “s'kinda fire.”

you shake your head, still laughing as you accept the joint. “yeah, yeah, it’s fire. but if my mom finds out, you’re explaining this one.”

chris rolls his eyes, “aight, whatever,” he chuckles, scrunching his face up when you playfully blow the smoke in his face, his hand swatting the cloud away. “yo, chill wit' that before i tell your mom who's moans these are,” he smirks evilly.

you groan, leaning back in your chair with a frown at him, taking another rip from the joint, but this time exhaling the smoke to the side.

chris' smirk grows, snickering under his breath as he swivels his chair to face the console again, “yeah, that's what i thought.”

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[moonchild-in-blue]

Kyle Soto being a musician will forever be a hilarious mystery to me. The guy looks like the most generic Handsome White Dude ever - as in, High Fashion handsome. Babygirl, you belong in a Calvin Klein or Hugo Boss ad. HOW did you end up making the most gut-punching, heart-breaking, escapism dreamy emo music ever?

[hyperfixatedbastard]

how to get the First Man™ out of bed

Soft!Adam x GN!Reader

Turns out the 'First Man' himself is actually super clingy. And he is a big baby when it comes to getting up in the mornings. Good luck convincing him to get his ass outta bed!

Word Count: 1.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, implied sexual content, withholding sex, kissing (it's still SFW!)

A/N: Here is the Adam x Reader fluff, finally! I didn't mean for this to have so much sex-adjacent content but I think that's just too integral to Adam's character lmao. It's still SFW though so it's fineee. I didn't mean for the 'withholding sex' part to be manipulative, it's all fun n' games here, so apologies if it comes across as too serious. (It was originally 'one week', not 'one day' - I changed it just in case lol)

Dividers

Beneath the douchebag exterior of the First Man™, Adam’s really just a big ol’ softie. Just deep, deep, deep down. It took a long time to find that part of him, but as his partner, you’re one of the only people that even knows this side of him exists.

One thing you really hadn’t expected from the man is how clingy he can get—it probably has something to do with the abandonment issues, but you’ve never tried to broach that subject. It’s currently early in the morning, and Adam doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of you anytime soon. You’re cuddled up with him in bed, his mask and robes absent as he sleeps. His wings are wrapped around you like a protective blanket. And now you have to try and convince his stubborn ass to get the fuck up. You’ve already been awake for about fifteen minutes, hoping your boyfriend will wake up on his own, but of course, that’s not going to happen. 

Getting Adam out of bed is always a struggle. Despite the promotion of Heaven as the ‘perfect place’ with ‘no bad days,’ there’s still a schedule to abide by, and angels still need sleep. And Adam really hates those damn schedules, and loves his beauty sleep. There are a multitude of ways to try and get him out of bed, and every morning is a guessing game to see which one will work.

1. Be sweet and try to gently encourage him to get out of bed.

“Adam, babe,” you murmur softly, opting for a gentle approach this time around. You pat his arms where they’re wrapped securely around your waist—you would try to get a look at his face, but he’s spooning you from behind and giving you absolutely zero wiggle room. “You gotta get up, we have shit to do.”

“Mm…fuck off,” Adam grumbles, only tightening his hold on you and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. Which was about what you expected.

2. Be a little assertive.

“Adam, c’mon,” you warn in an attempt to convince him to get the fuck up. “I’ve already given you an extra fifteen minutes.”

“Then gimme fifteen more,” he insists, his voice sounding almost whiny. His childishness would be adorable if you didn’t actually have shit to do today. 

3. Be a little more assertive.

You sigh. It’s never easy with this asshole. “Adam.”

The angel in question makes a little ‘mmpf’ sound into your back.

“Get the fuck up.”

He doesn’t even respond this time—he just holds you tighter, his wings copying his arms and trapping you in his embrace.

4. Bribery.

Actually, fuck no. You refuse to bribe him again. He’s already gotten that out of you several times before, getting anything from sex to food to picking what movie you two watch that night (you’ve watched Die Hard three times this week alone)

No, this is a game you are not losing this time.

5. Threats.

“Okay, you’ve got three options,” you offer, your voice less stern than your last attempt but not as soft as your first. “One: you get up.”

Adam makes another noncommittal little grunt of acknowledgment.

“Two: you don’t get up, and Lute breaks into our apartment again to drag your ass out of bed.”

He lets out a sound that sounds kind of like a chuckle, but it’s muffled against the back of your neck, so it’s hard to tell. But he’s clearly not intimidated by the warning.

“Three: you don’t get up and we don’t fuck tonight.”

That gets him. He tenses up for a moment before scoffing in disbelief. “Yeah, right, like you could go a day without this dick.”

A smirk pulls at your lips. You’ve got him now. “Try me.”

Adam’s silent for nearly a full minute. He has a much higher libido than you, and he knows you’d be fine without sex for a day. Him, on the other hand? He’s got a high sex drive and is downright spoiled. 

You’re worried he’s fallen back asleep, but eventually, he sighs. His wings unfurl and his grip around you loosens, though not letting go entirely. “Fineee,” he groans dramatically. “But only because I don’t wanna deprive you of my amazing dick.”

You chuckle and turn to face him, now that you have the ability to actually move. His hair’s all messy, as it usually is, and his golden eyes are just barely cracked open. 

“Oh, how generous of you,” you joke, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He instinctively pushes his face into your palm ever so slightly. 

“I know, I’m fucking great,” he agrees, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows you were being sarcastic, but he’ll turn damn near anything into a compliment that strokes his ego.

You just roll your eyes at his response, albeit fondly. He’s a dumbass, but he’s your dumbass.

“Alright, you big baby, time to get up,” you tease, moving to sit up before his arms tighten around you once more, pulling you back down.

“Hey—” you start, but are immediately cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His lips move slowly and languidly along with yours, and you’re all too happy to reciprocate.

You sigh into the kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against Adam’s lips. There’s a big difference between your usual hungry, eager make-outs and the sweet, lazy kisses you get when he’s all soft and sleepy. Both are great, but you really savor these tender, gentle moments with him. In the mornings, he’s too tired to keep up that arrogant ‘too cool for all that mushy, affectionate shit’ persona. And while you love him all the time, sleepy Adam definitely holds a special place in your heart.

He’s smiling when he lets you pull away. The kiss wasn’t a particularly long one, but you could’ve let it go on forever. But you’d be one hell of a hypocrite if you stayed in bed just to kiss your boyfriend after making such a point to get his ass out of bed.

“Now are you ready to get up?” you ask softly, still basking in the warmth of his embrace and the memory of his lips on yours.

“Mm…” Adam hums in consideration. His smile quickly turns to a smirk as he tightens his hold on you yet again and wraps his wings around you. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Needless to say, you do not stay true to your word about the consequences of Adam not getting out of bed. And Lute does, in fact, break into your apartment half an hour later to be confronted with a sight she sees far too often for her liking. 

Fuck him for being so damn stubborn. Literally.

Taglist - @3sire-777

[captain-hawks]

LET ME SEE THE HEAT GET TO YOU.

rintarou suna x f!reader

wc: 2.1k tags: 18+ only, and they were roommates, the complete and utter objectification of rintarou suna's hands, hand kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, fingering -> requested

“What?”

Suna’s voice startles you from your drifting train of thought, and the back of your neck heats up in embarrassment as you peel your gaze away from the sight of his fingertips drumming against his mouth, turning your focus back to the television. 

It was accidental—the birth of this oddly distracting fixation. 

Suna’s been your roommate for nearly six months, an arrangement of convenience when your prior roommate bailed with hardly a week’s notice and left you scrambling for someone to take over the second bedroom. Given that he was in between apartments and had been crashing on Atsumu’s couch for nearly a month at that point, it worked out in both your favor and his.

You even managed to convince yourself that the slightly inconvenient attraction you felt for your friend was negligible in the face of the prospect of trying to carry the bills for the apartment solo—that, or the inevitable stress of finding a complete stranger to move in instead. 

And it was fine, for a little while.

Between work and cramming for finals, you hardly had time to dwell over things like how unfairly attractive he looks with his mussed bedhead and tired eyes when he makes his way out into the kitchen in the morning, or your newfound burden of knowledge of a tattoo that exists on the curve of his hip (courtesy of your single bathroom dwelling and a conveniently low-slung towel). 

But three weeks and four days ago on an unsuspecting Wednesday afternoon, Suna unknowingly smashed every single precarious eggshell you’d been tiptoeing over with what you’d mistakenly thought was practiced ease. 

Suna leans forward now, elbows resting on his knees as he watches the movie that you’ve hardly been paying attention to, and he idly drags the side of his thumb against his bottom lip. 

Warmth stirs in your gut. You think back to that day, the slice of cake sitting atop a small white plate in the middle of the kitchen. The easy way your fork cut through the icing and down its soft center. The gentle mirth in Suna’s eyes as he stood on the other side of the island and listened to you recount a silly story from work.

The even easier way he’d reached across the expanse of marble countertop, wordlessly swiping away a rogue bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, leaving you to flounder for your words mid-sentence as he casually licked it off after.

To Suna, it was clearly nothing, given the way he’s carried on since like it never even happened.

For you, it’s become a Problem™. 

Because now you can’t stop thinking about his stupid goddamn hands.

His large hands with those long, slender fingers and neatly kept nails. 

It really doesn’t help that you’ve spent enough time watching him play volleyball to know the extent of their power, the quick dexterity with which he effortlessly blocks and serves, the impressive amount of control he can leverage with his digits curled around the ball’s surface.

Logically, they’re just hands.

This is what you try to tell yourself when you’re free from the stifling, one-sided terrarium of unrequited pining that you’ve turned your cozy third floor apartment into. You let your eyes sweep downward when you’re at work, when you’re in class, while you’re walking the aisles at the grocery store—and there’s not a goddamn single hand that passes through your line of sight that sets your heart racing like the ones that belong to your roommate. 

Now you can hardly catch his eye in the bathroom mirror when you reach across the counter while he’s brushing his teeth without feeling warm all over at the sight of his fingers wrapped around his toothbrush. 

Just last week, you nearly choked on your own dinner when you glanced up across the kitchen table to find him pressing his mouth to a piece of rice clinging to his knuckle. 

The loose, uninhibited state your thoughts pile into at night doesn’t help your current predicament in the slightest, as you’ve begun to find yourself restless as you dwell on other things—other places Suna’s hands could slide and cup and grasp. 

You’ve imagined how they’d feel pressed down on your tongue or molded against your breasts. Wrapped around your hips. Lodged deep in the slick of your cunt.

Spread, curled, grasping and thrusting until you’re coming so hard on nothing but the precise stretch of his digits that you can barely breathe.

It’s a date with someone who isn’t Suna, of all things, that brings it all crashing to a head. 

Glancing down at your phone as it lights up on the bathroom counter, you groan when the time flashes across the screen. You’re running late.

“Wow, where are you headed?” Suna curiously pokes his head into the bathroom, and his eyes widen a fraction when he notices your outfit. 

“Shit,” you gasp, jumping at the sudden sound of his voice and smearing a line of lipstick beyond the corner of your mouth in the process. The applicator clatters into the sink. 

Whipping around, you inhale, clutching the edges of the counter with both hands as you blink at your roommate in surprise. 

“Sorry,” he says, wincing.

“I have a date,” you tell him, words coming out in a rush. 

Suna blinks, and while he’s in no way the most talkative person you’ve ever met, you’ve also yet to see him at a loss for words like he seems to be now. You don’t bother adding that the date in question is for the express purpose of giving you reprieve from the pathetically Pavlovian response you’ve developed to the mere sight of his hands.

“There’s—” he belatedly motions toward your face, where you can feel the smudged trail of lipstick. 

You should probably turn around and start digging around under the sink for makeup remover, but predictably, you’re too focused on…yes…his hands. 

When you make no move to clean yourself up, Suna takes a step forward, the toes of his socks brushing against your bare feet. He reaches out, eyes focused on the corner of your mouth, and swipes two fingers over the mess. 

You stand there, rooted to the spot, the dizzying rush of blood in your ears hindering your ability to tell him that wiping it with his bare hands isn’t going to do anything.

And then his fingertips softly feather over the upper edges of your mouth.

You meet his gaze, your ribcage shuddering at the intensity of it, and before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, your head tips back just enough to let his fingers slip to the plush center of your bottom lip. 

Suna stares at you, unblinking, and he applies just enough pressure to part your lips.

Hot, insistent sparks of arousal flood your nervous system, setting alight the trail of desire that’s been steadily coating your better judgment like sticky, rich honey. 

You lean forward, your hips and thighs brushing against his, and take Suna’s fingers into your mouth.

Whatever you were feeling before, whatever petty fantasies you’ve imagined in the quiet beneath your sheets, they pale in comparison to this—to the feeling of your tongue wrapped around Suna’s slender digits. The pressure of them against your tongue as the saliva pools in your mouth. The molten path that blazes through your gut when he pushes in further, from the second knuckle to the third.

A moan crawls up your throat, drool slipping out past your lips and down your chin as you suck, and you’d be embarrassed—if not for the hitch of his breath, the appreciative, answering groan that leaves Suna as he cups the side of your neck with his free hand.

The counter presses into your backside as Suna’s body presses more firmly into yours, his thumb scraping beneath your chin as he watches you come untethered. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as you shudder at the friction he draws between your legs, desperately trying to take his fingers even deeper into the wet recesses of your warm mouth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know the errant swipe of your lipstick is likely nothing compared to the state of your lips as a whole right now.

And Suna seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, because without warning, he turns you around to face the mirror.

He’s hard, you can feel him pressing into your backside as the bite of the counter meets your hips. 

“You’re a mess,” he murmurs softly against the shell of your ear, eyes dark as he finds yours in the mirror.

He’s not wrong—you are a mess. Lipstick is smeared well past the boundary of your mouth, and his fingers are stained red and slick with your saliva. Your chest heaves.

Suna slides his fingers back into your mouth, and this time, he watches you watch yourself as you suck on them, observes the none-too-subtle shudder that wracks down your spine at the depraved sight before you. 

He smooths out the wrinkles in your dress, hand trailing down your front. 

Your cunt aches.

“Suna…,” you gasp out.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he mouths at the curve of your jaw. 

“…please…”

He adds a third finger as you continue to suck, and teeth drag down the side of your neck, his lips a hot brand as he presses them to your nape. 

“Rin—”

The fingers in your mouth curl, and you place a hand over his, slowly tugging up the skirt of your dress.

“I thought you had a date,” he rasps, your phone vibrating beside you as a text message flashes across the screen.

“Change of plans,” you gasp as his hand slips out of your grip, rucking up the skirt of your dress to reveal the pretty, lacy panties beneath. 

“You sure?” he asks, eyes finding yours in the mirror again, fingertips toying with the waistband of your underwear. His fingers leave your mouth, slipping down your front to caress your collarbone. 

You nod.

Suna’s hand slips lower, gliding into your underwear, and he exhales when his fingers find the full extent of what a mess he’s made of you.

“And I thought your mouth was wet.” He sounds amused, but his tone is rougher now, the hard press of his erection against the globes of your ass more insistent as he begins to finger your slit.

You gasp at the sensation, your legs sliding further apart as your entire body relaxes into his, your head tipping back against his shoulder. His free hand finds a home loosely splayed across the throat that you’ve bared to him. 

A slender finger slips easily into your wet hole, and the pleasure from that alone has your entire spine arching, hips eagerly rocking into his touch.

“Sensitive,” he observes, curling the digit against your plush, slick inner walls. 

You whimper. 

It’d be so much easier to stumble into his bedroom or yours, to be splayed wide across the sheets, hips arching up off of the mattress as he sinks three fingers deep. But it’s the filthy sight of yourself in the mirror that keeps you firmly rooted to the spot, body wholly overheated with arousal and desire. 

Your legs spread a bit wider of their own accord, your balance going slightly askew, and Suna holds you fast as you writhe when one finger becomes two. Arousal drips from your folds, coating his hand and soaking into your underwear. The tightness of your hole relents around the stretch, and your throbbing clit aches as his palm firmly rocks against it. 

An unhinged laugh threatens to burst out of you as you think about the last time a guy fingered you—the abysmal way you’d had to fake an orgasm out of pity just to get him to give up as your enjoyment petered out further with each overenthusiastic stroke.

You think about now, how your entire body’s been reduced to a livewire of heady pleasure, ready to burst on a hair trigger. Suna could probably stop moving his hand altogether and you’d still end up trembling and moaning and gushing all over his fingers before long anyway. 

And it’s the sensation of his fingers sliding back into your mouth that finally sends you over the edge. The bright line of bulbs across the top of the mirror merge into one as your vision goes white, your climax rocking through you with reckless abandon. Suna’s nose slides against your cheek and he exhales roughly, his own muscles taut as his fingers guide you through it.

Your phone vibrates again on the counter.

“I can’t believe you’re standing up your date,” he murmurs, teasing, teeth nipping at your earlobe. 

He’s still hard.

“I mean, I guess I can go looking like this,” you reply, making a circular gesture at yourself while you turn to face him.

Suna catches your chin in his hand, gently.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

You dart your tongue out, letting it poke against the tip of his thumb.

The corner of his mouth curves upward as he leans in to kiss you. 

[v6quewrlds]

❝ say my name, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: success is great until you realize that you haven't touched your fiance in nearly a month. feeling guilty about your absence, his new assistant's constant presence hits a nerve.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: game dey fic for good luck! i'm just gonna come clean and say that this picture inspired this entire thing. possessive joe we all say in unison. this was so fun to work on, thank you anon for the request <33 requests are still open!!

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: angst & smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, established relationship, jealousy, dom!joe, exhibitionism?, public sex, mirror sex?, size kink? size kink, cunnilingus bc joe burrow is an eater™, the tiniest baby hint of a breeding kink.

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

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.8k.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the hanging lights hanging above the island, casting shadows that danced across the marble countertops as yourself, Joe, and your best friend, Tamara, sat around the kitchen table. The aroma of a quick meal filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of Joe's cologne and the sweetness of the boxed cake mix they had shared. Your dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun, your blowout beginning to curl up again. You and Tamara listening intently as Joe spoke of his assistant's impending departure. Your eyes, a deep shade of brown, drifted in and out of the conversation as you thought about the pile of work waiting for you at your office in downtown Cincinnati.

You just barely heard Tamara suggesting her cousin as a replacement. Tiffany, who was studying Marketing at the University of Cincinnati, had grown closer to her older cousin in her time in school despite the age difference between them. "She's been looking for an internship or something part-time," she said, hope sparkling in her voice. "It's tough out here, and she's really good with people."

Joe looked at you, who nodded in approval, half listening and trusting your best friend’s endorsement. "Send her my way, T," he said, smiling. "I'll set up an interview."

The following week was a blur of phone calls and emails as Joe prepared for the interview. Your schedule was packed with work, and Joe was buried in his season commitments. Your paths rarely crossed outside of brief moments at home, leaving your newly purchased house feeling more like a rest stop than a shared home.

When the day of Tiffany’s interview finally arrived, Joe was surprised by her poise and professionalism. She walked in dressed sharply, her confidence radiating in the room. Despite her youth, she spoke with the eloquence of someone who had been in the industry for years. Her references were impeccable, and her career goals were admirable. He had no doubts that she would be a valuable asset to his team.

You met Tiffany for the first time in the kitchen the morning after she started. The young woman's enthusiasm was palpable, but you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there was something not quite right with her demeanor. Tiffany's eyes lingered on Joe a little too long for your liking, and her smile was a bit too wide when he spoke to her. You shook yourself out of her skepticism and chalked it up to nerves and excitement about the job. You had to admit, after all, that Tiffany was a breath of fresh air. She was excellent in keeping up with Joe’s schedules and appointments, helping to shoulder some of the burdens he dreaded about his career.

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind of game days and late-night reheated dinners. Your business was thriving, and Joe's season was on an upward trajectory. Yet, amidst all the success, there was a worrying feeling that something was off-balance. Tiffany was always there, a constant presence that seemed to hover closer to Joe than necessary. You tried not to let it get to you, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time Joe laughed at one of Tiffany's jokes or thanked her for handling something simple so efficiently.

You stood over your side of your twin sinks, your coils pushed back from your forehead as you completed your skincare routine. You felt a gentle nudge as Joe leaned against you, his reflection in the mirror showing the exhaustion etched into his features. It was 10 PM, way past Joe's bedtime, but you appreciated the effort he was showing to take advantage of what little time you could spend together.

"So, I've got a dinner tomorrow," he began, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet bathroom. His strong arms wrapped warmly around your waist. "It's a sponsor thing. Nothing crazy, no cameras. Just dinner and a few schmoozes."

Your eyes met his in the mirror. "You want me to come?" You tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but it crept in regardless.

"Yeah. I know you've been slammed with work, but I'd love it if you could come. It's at the Kinley downtown. They have that amazing tiramisu you love." Joe's smile was boyish, and your heart melted at the thought of a rare date night.

The last time you two had been to the Kinley was the night of your engagement three months ago. That famous tiramisu had been delivered to your suite to accompany a bottle of champagne after the hotel manager heard the city's star quarterback was celebrating an accepted proposal. It had been a night filled with laughter and love, and you couldn't help but hope for a similar experience tomorrow.

"Okay, I'll come," you said, turning to kiss him. "But only for the tiramisu."

Joe chuckled and squeezed you tightly. "Whatever it takes to drag you outside with me." He kissed the top of your head before reaching for his toothbrush. "But promise me you'll wear that dress I like, the white one."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "The one that never makes it through the door before you're trying to get it off me? That one?"

Joe grinned, his teeth flashing in the bathroom light. "You know the one."

The morning light streamed through the blinds, creating a checkered pattern across your bed. Your eyes fluttered open, the promise of the dinner date lingering in your mind. You felt Joe's warmth beside you, his even breaths a comforting soundtrack to the start of your day. As you slipped out of bed and into the shower, you couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement for the evening ahead. Joe was gone from his side of the bed when you returned from her shower, his deep voice carrying from the kitchen as he laughed over the phone with Ja'Marr.

As you got dressed to leave for work, you heard the doorbell ring. You didn't expect anyone, but Joe's voice grew louder as he spoke to someone at the door. You made your way downstairs to find Tiffany, dressed in a sleek casual outfit, her hair slicked down perfectly.

"Morning, you two," she chirped, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Joe. You felt a flicker of irritation but pushed it aside.

"Hi, Tiffany," you said with a forced smile. "I can't believe your boss got you over here so early."

Tiffany's eyes darted to Joe before returning to you. "Oh, it's no trouble. I just wanted to make sure everything is set for tonight. Joe said I could tag along to the dinner. You know, for networking and all."

Your smile didn't falter, but your stomach did a flip. "Networking? At the Kinley? Downtown? Tonight?" You couldn't help the searing glare you shot towards Joe who remained wrapped up in his own little world. Completely oblivious to the dissatisfaction on your face. 

You had to admit that you had hoped for a more intimate evening with Joe, but you had no desire to be rude. "That's a great opportunity, Tiffany. It'll be good to make some business connections in the city."

Joe looked between you, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two women. "You're right, babe. Tiffany's going to be graduating soon, and she needs all the help she can get." He gave you a kiss on the cheek, a hand reaching to cradle your waist. "Don't worry, I'll try to keep the business talk to a minimum."

You nodded, trying to keep your emotions in check. You didn't want to ruin your night with a petty argument about his assistant. After all, Joe had done so much to support you, especially with putting up with your late work hours recently.

Tiffany grimaced as Joe's hand lingered on your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. "Right," she murmured. "I'll just grab my laptop and get to work." She reached into her laptop bag, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at her reaction. You had agreed to come to the dinner to support Joe, not to play chaperone.

The day passed slowly, a mix of business meetings and working through the massive to-do list from your secretary leaving you with little time to dwell on the evening's potential awkwardness. When you finally returned home to get ready, you found Joe in your closet, half dressed in a sharp suit that hugged his muscular frame. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and you had to admit that you felt a spark of excitement at the prospect of a night out with him.

"Joe, did you think Tiffany's energy was off this morning?" You asked as you stepped into the walk-in closet to choose your outfit.

Joe looked up from his phone, presumably texting his stylist, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

You emerged from the closet wearing the white dress he had requested, your eyes meeting his in the floor-length mirror. "She just seemed... eager."

Joe shrugged, his tie now hanging loosely around his neck. "Eager to network, you mean? That's what she's here for, babe." You nodded, trying to convince yourself that your jealousy was unfounded. You reached up to do up Joe's tie for him, your hands trembling slightly. As you stepped back to admire your work, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You look amazing," Joe whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your cheek, his blue eyes sweeping over your face. "You always do, beautiful."

You felt a warm blush creep up your neck. "Thank you, baby." You kissed him lightly, trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head that whispered about Tiffany.

The drive to the Kinley was filled with Joe's stories from practice and Tiffany's chirpy interjections about the inside jokes they built up over the weeks she had been working for him. You listened politely, but your mind was elsewhere, planning how you could make the most of this evening. You didn't want to spend the entire night watching Joe work the room with his assistant by his side.

Once you arrived at the luxurious hotel, the valet took Joe's car, and the three of you stepped into the bustling lobby. The air was filled with the sound of clinking glasses and laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet tension between yourself and Tiffany. You took a deep breath and slipped your hand into Joe's, reminding yourself that this was your night, despite the third wheel.

The dinner was a mix of business moguls and sports celebrities. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a friendly face. You spotted a few local influencers from your business’ social media following, but you were already engaged in your own conversations. The grand ballroom of the Kinley Hotel was a sea of unfamiliar faces, all dressed to the nines and seemingly at ease. The three of you made your way to the table reserved for Joe and his two guests.

Tiffany was already scanning the room, her eyes lighting up as she recognized a potential networking opportunity. "Oh, there's Dr. Simpson from the university," she exclaimed. "I've been dying to talk to him about an internship."

Joe nodded, his gaze following her as she gracefully excused herself. "Go for it," he encouraged, offering her a kind smile. "I'll grab us some drinks."

You watched Tiffany weave through the crowd, an eager bounce in her step. As Joe returned with an espresso martini for you and an iced tea for himself, you couldn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach. You took a sip of your drink, trying to push the negative thoughts aside.

The evening progressed with Joe being pulled into conversation after conversation, leaving you to sit alone at the table. You checked your phone for the millionth time, scrolling through social media to keep yourself entertained. You were in no mood to schmooze with influencers and their sugar daddies, your work had already left you with minimal energy. The chandeliers above cast a warm glow over the room, and the clinking of silverware against china filled the air. You felt out of place, a fish out of water.

Your eyes followed Joe as he charmed a table of investors with a story about a recent game-winning play. Tiffany hovered at his side, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she subtly touched his arm, prompting him with information or a well-placed joke. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you watched Joe's assistant monopolize his time.

A server approached with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and you finally gathered the will to stand and mingle. You recognized a few faces from your own business circles, but the conversations felt forced, the words sticking in your throat as you tried to maintain a cheery facade. With each passing minute, your frustration grew. This wasn't the romantic evening you had hoped for; it was just another work function for Joe with an unwelcome plus-one.

Tiffany reappeared at Joe's side, her laugh a tinkling sound that seemed to carry across the room. You felt a twinge of annoyance at her ease, the way she moved with confidence and charm among these powerful individuals despite her lack of experience. You couldn't help but wonder if Joe had noticed the flirtatious glances she kept casting his way.

"Babe, you okay?" Joe asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as he took a seat beside you. His brow was furrowed with concern, and for a moment, you felt guilty for your jealous thoughts. You forced a smile and nodded. "Just a little tired," you said, playing off your discomfort.

But Joe wasn't buying it. He leaned in close, whispering, "What's going on, sweetheart?" You took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne calming your nerves slightly. 

"It's Tiffany," you confessed.

He frowned, glancing over at his assistant. "What about her?"

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, wanting to choose your words wisely. "It's just... she's all over you, Joe. And it's so fucking weird. She's supposed to be here for business, not to flirt."

Joe's eyes widened in surprise. "Flirt? She's not flirting with me." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to where Tiffany was now engaged with a group of businessmen. "Babe, she's just doing her job. Networking."

You felt a spark of frustration at his dismissal. "It's more than that, Joe. I can feel it." You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice low and steady. "I don't want to ruin your night, but I can't ignore how uncomfortable this is making me."

Joe studied you for a moment, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. But before either of you could say anything else, Tiffany came gliding back over, a triumphant smile on her face. "Joe, I've got a meeting with Dr. Simpson next week. He's interested in discussing some marketing strategies for the university's athletic program. You're a genius for bringing me here!"

Her eyes flicked to you, who offered a tight smile in return. "Congratulations, Tiffany," you said through gritted teeth. "You're doing a fantastic job." The words were perfectly sweet, topped off with a gentle lilt as you stood up from your seat. Your hands smoothed over your dress before pushing the chair back in. "But if you'll excuse me..." you trailed off, making your way through the crowd of people without a backward glance.

Joe's hand reached out to grab yours as she passed, but you slipped away. He watched your retreating figure, the frown on his face deepening as he realized he had a situation to handle. "I'll be right back," he told Tiffany, who nodded, her eyes tracking your exit with an odd expression that was not lost on Joe.

He found you in the quiet hallway outside the ballroom, leaning against the wall, your eyes closed. "Hey," he said softly, approaching you. You didn't open your eyes, but you didn't flinch either, which was a bad sign.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice low and tired.

Joe stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Babe, what's wrong? I don't like seeing you like this."

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes to meet Joe's concerned gaze. "It bothers me Joey, the way she acts around you is so fucking weird. And you're not even picking up on it." Your voice was laced with a hint of anger, but the exhaustion from your long day was clear.

Joe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. If you're uncomfortable, I'll talk to her," he offered, his voice sincere. "But she's been nothing but professional with me, sweetheart."

You looked at him, your eyes squinting in disbelief. "Joe, she's been all over you since she started working for you. That’s not professional."

He frowned, clearly confused. "Babe, she's just trying to do her job. She's young, eager to impress. It's not what it seems."

You pulled your arm away, your voice rising slightly. "Why would she need to impress you by flirting with you? She's your assistant, not a contestant on a reality show."

Joe's expression darkened as he took in her tone. "Babe," he warned slowly. "You're being dramatic."

But you were beyond caring. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a huff, "Joe," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and sadness. "You're so blind. She's obviously into you."

Joe's jaw tightened. "Look, if you need attention, I can give you attention." He offered his hand for you to take, his patience wearing thin.

You stepped back, the coldness in his voice cutting through the warmth of the room. "Is that what you think this is about? Attention?" You threw your hands up in frustration. "This isn't a game, Joe. This is our relationship!"

The music and laughter from the ballroom seemed to fade away as you faced each other, your words echoing in the quiet hallway. The silence between you seemed to stretch on for hours. Neither of you were willing to back down. 

Finally Joe took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I miss you." He hummed as a hand reached for your hip, pulling you closer to him. "It's been a month since we’ve done anything just the two of us."

Your eyes searched his, the frustration slowly melting away as you gave in. "I miss you too."

Joe's gaze softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a sweet promise of comfort and reassurance, but it quickly grew into something more urgent. A month's worth of longing and tension poured into that kiss, and suddenly, the hallway didn't feel so cold anymore. Your knees practically buckled under his touch, his hands grasping at your curves with a hunger you missed so desperately.

"I need to feel you," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding around your waist.

You felt a thrill run through you. You knew Joe wasn't the type to act on impulse like this, but you couldn't deny that a part of you craved this passion from him. You had been so busy, and this raw passion was a stark reminder of why you were together. You leaned into him, the heat from your bodies melding together.

"Baby, not here," you whispered, though your voice was laced with want. You didn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he glanced down the hallway.

"Come on, let's go somewhere private." He took your hand, leading you away from the ballroom's prying eyes. You stumbled into an empty bathroom, the door clicking shut behind them. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air as Joe's hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up. You gasped as his mouth found your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of heat.

In the dimly lit bathroom, your eyes locked in the mirror. The reflection showed a side of them that hadn't been seen in weeks—desperate and passionate. You gasped as Joe bent you over the counter, his hands roaming under your dress. The cool marble sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat between your legs. You didn't protest when he pulled your panties to the side, instead leaning into the sensation of his hand on your skin.

Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear. "Do you want me to stop?" His thumb traced a tantalizing circle around your clit, and you bit back a moan.

"No," you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck me."

With a grunt, Joe complied, his hand moving away to unbuckle his pants. He was already hard, his cock pressing against your ass as he lined himself up. He slammed into you without much prep, and your moan echoed in the tiled room. You gripped the edge of the counter, your breath getting caught in your throat as he began to thrust into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with the distant laughter and clinking glasses from the dinner.

Your movements grew more erratic as you both gave into your desires. Your heels clicked against the marble floor with every thrust, the sound bouncing off the walls. Joe's grip tightened on your hips, his breath hot on your neck as he whispered dirty nothings that made your toes curl. It was a stark contrast to the elegant evening gown you wore, now hiked up around your waist, and the fancy hotel bathroom you found yourself in.

"Harder," you moaned, your voice thick with desire.

"Yeah?" Joe questioned, his grip tightened on your hips, his rhythm quickening as he drove into you. The bathroom's sterile scent was overpowered by your mingled perfume and the scent of your arousal. The world outside the bathroom door faded away, replaced by the symphony of your panting breaths and the wet slap of your bodies coming together.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your eyes fluttering open to meet Joe's in the mirror. The sight of him, all muscular and intense, brought a new wave of arousal crashing over you. You felt the tension in your core tighten with every stroke, your body begging for release.

"I'm right here," Joe murmured, his voice a stark contrast to the urgent sounds of your lovemaking. His eyes held yours in the mirror, a silent promise that he heard you and that he cared. "You're all mine, baby. You're all I want. The only one."

You felt your body respond to his words, the tension coiling tighter, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. "Baby," you moaned, your nails digging into the counter. "I'm gonna come."

Joe's eyes darkened, and he thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urged, his own breathing ragged. "You wanted my attention? You got it. Right here, right now."

Your body obeyed, shuddering with pleasure as she climaxed, your inner walls clenching around him. He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. The sound of your passion bounced off the marble walls, echoing through the empty hallway outside. It was a reminder of the passion that still burned between the two of you, despite the distance your busy lives had created.

You both came down from your highs, your breathing slowly returning to normal as Joe held you against him, your hands resting against the cool bathroom sink. "I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter.

Joe leaned in to kiss your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't be. We both needed this." He pulled out of you gently, setting you upright to clean you up gently. You straightened out your clothes, trying to compose yourselves before returning to the dinner.

When you exited the bathroom, the tension between you had shifted. The awkwardness was gone, replaced with a newfound intimacy and understanding. You held hands as you walked back to the ballroom, your eyes meeting in a silent promise that you wouldn't let your busy lives come between you two again.

As you re-entered the buzzing room, the first person you saw was Tiffany, who was chatting with a group of people. Her eyes immediately darted to your joined hands and hazy eyes. You felt a smug satisfaction at the slight flicker of jealousy in the assistant's gaze. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Joe and the rest of the night ahead of you.

Joe steered you to your table, and you noticed that the dinner had progressed to dessert without you. The other guests were engaged in lively conversations, oblivious to the passionate interlude the two of you had just shared. You couldn't help but feel a bit rebellious, a bit wild, knowing that while everyone else was munching on chocolate tiramisu, you had just been properly fucked by your fiancé in the bathroom.

You sat down and picked at your desserts, Joe occasionally squeezing your hand under the table. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk and forced smiles, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Tiffany's eyes kept finding you, lingering a second too long on the lean into each other or the occasional kiss you shared.

As the dinner wound down and guests began to disperse, Joe leaned in, whispering, "Let's get out of here." The excitement in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself smiling genuinely for the first time that evening.

"What about Tiffany? She's not ready to leave," you whispered, glancing at Joe's assistant who was still deep in conversation.

"She's a big girl," Joe said with a firmness in his voice that made your stomach flutter. "We need some time alone."

"Joe," you warned, your voice a mix of amusement and concern. "You can't just leave her here."

He leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Why not? She's a smart girl, she can handle herself."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smirk that played on your lips. "Fine. But you're telling her we're leaving."

Joe leaned back in his chair, his own smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "My pleasure." He stood, his movements graceful despite his towering height. He approached Tiffany, and you watched as he tapped her on the shoulder. The young assistant's smile faltered when she saw who it was, the new glow in his features unmistakeable.

"Tiffany, we're heading out," Joe said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I know you're not ready to leave yet. But when you are, just order an Uber. It's on me, you can Venmo me in the morning."

Tiffany's expression tightened, and she nodded, trying to play it cool, but the sting of being ditched was clear in her eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt, but you couldn't bring herself to care much. Like Joe said, she was a smart girl, and it didn't take much to see the sexual tension floating between an engaged couple.

The two of you made your way through the lobby, giggling to each other as you tried to slip out under the radar. An older man passed by, giving you a knowing smile. "Looks like the night's just getting started for you two," he said with a wink.

Joe's arm tightened around your waist as he replied, "You could say that," with a mischievous grin. "I'm taking my wife home." The man chuckled before continuing on his way, leaving you to your own devices.

"Wife? Already?" You teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was promised another ring, Mr. Burrow.”

"Might as well get used to calling you that," Joe said, a hint of possessiveness in his tone that sent a thrill through you. “The ring will come in due time, Mrs. Burrow.”

You stepped outside into the cool Cincinnati evening, the sounds of the city muffled by the plush hotel lobby behind you. The valet pulled up with Joe's sleek black sports car, and you couldn't help but feel like a teenager again, sneaking out for a date with your forbidden boyfriend. You drove through the city streets, the tension in the car thick with unspoken words and lingering passion.

Back home, you didn't bother with small talk. The moment you were through the door, Joe scooped you into his arms and carried you upstairs in a bridal carry to your bedroom. Your kisses were deep, your touches exploratory, as if you were discovering each other all over again.

"Joseph," you scolded as he tossed you onto the plush king-sized bed, your bodies tangling together as he followed you down. His broader, more muscular body covered yours completely. Your heart swirled with arousal at the thought of him towering over you, claiming you as his wife as he did earlier. 

He kissed you deeply, his hands exploring the curves of your body as if he hadn't touched you in years instead of just an hour. Your fingers danced over his chest, feeling the familiar strength beneath the fabric of his shirt, your desire for him growing with every beat of your heart.

"I think we have some unfinished business," Joe murmured against your neck, his voice deep and filled with desire as his hands continued to roam over your body. His mouth trailed hot kisses along your collarbone, making you arch into him with a gasp.

Your own hands found their way to his shirt buttons, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. As the fabric parted, you could see the outline of his muscles, the result of countless hours of training and hard work. You ran your fingertips over his chest, feeling his heart race beneath your touch. It was a powerful reminder that, despite his rigorous schedule, he was all yours.

"Open those pretty legs for me," Joe groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, pushing your body up even further on the bed and tearing your panties away.

You eagerly complied, your heart pounding in anticipation as Joe's eyes darkened with lust. He kissed down your body, peppering your skin with kisses that left a trail of fire in their wake. When his mouth reached your pussy, you bucked your hips upward, desperate for his touch. His tongue slid along your slit, teasing your clit before delving deeper. Your moans grew louder, filling the quiet room, as he feasted on you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.

"Fuck, baby," you whispered as Joe's tongue swirled around your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn't believe how much you needed this, how much you craved his touch after being entrenched in your busy life. Your body felt alive again, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Joe worked his magic on you.

"Yes, Joe," you moaned, your hips rocking against his face as Joe's skilled mouth brought you closer to climax. You felt him smile against you, the movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. You were lost in the sensation, your body trembling as you reached for his hair, gripping the short strands in your fists.

"Yes, yes," you panted, your body writhing under Joe's relentless attention. His tongue was a masterful tool, bringing you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. You could feel the tension building within you, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening as you approached your peak.

"I'm gonna come," you warned, your voice breathless. "Baby, please don't stop. I need you so bad."

Joe's only response was a low growl of approval, his mouth working faster as he felt your body tense beneath him. He knew you were close, he could taste it in the sweetness of your arousal. With one final, lingering lick, you shattered, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Joe looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with pride and lust as he watched you come apart in his arms.

You collapsed back onto the bed, panting and trembling, your eyes fluttering shut. Joe didn't waste any time, quickly shedding his own clothes before sliding between your legs. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock thick and hard with desire.

"Look at you," Joe murmured, his voice thick with lust. His eyes traced the lines of your body, taking in every inch of you like it was the first time all over again. "So beautiful, all mine. Never seen anyone so fucking perfect."

You felt your body warm at his words, your eyes snapping open to meet his. "Joe," you whispered, your voice a plea for more as you felt him nudge against your entrance. He slid in slowly, filling you completely, making you gasp with the sudden fullness.

Your rhythm was slow at first, a gentle rocking that grew in intensity with every beat of your hearts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. Joe's eyes never left yours, the love and desire in his gaze setting you alight. You moved together in perfect harmony, your bodies speaking a language that only the two of you understood.

"Joey," you whispered, your voice strained with need as his hips rocked into you steadily. His thrusts grew stronger, more demanding. The bed beneath you creaked with the force of your passion, the only sound in the room your ragged breaths and the slick sounds of skin on skin.

Your voice cut off with a strangled moan as he hiked your thighs up higher. Your calves now rested on his broad shoulders, as your pelvises cushioned against each other. 

“What is it baby?” Joe questioned softly against your parted lips, your breaths mingling together in whispers of moans. “You know I’d give you whatever you need. Just ask.”

"Tell me you love me," you breathed, your eyes locked on Joe's. 

His pupils dilated, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you, beautiful. So fucking much," he growled, his voice a mix of passion and frustration at the same time. "You're mine, and I'm yours. No one else." His words were punctuated by his hips, driving into you with a ferocity that mirrored the emotions churning within you.

"Only yours," you repeated, your voice a breathy whisper as Joe's cock slammed into you, each stroke hitting a spot deep inside that sent you spiraling towards another climax. The words resonated within you, a departure from the insecurity that had plagued you earlier in the evening.

"Fuck, Joey," you moaned, feeling the pressure build inside you once again. Your nails dug into his back, urging him to go harder, faster. "Don't stop, baby, don't ever stop."

Your movements grew more frantic, the passion between you a live wire, sparking and crackling in the air. Joe's muscles bulged with effort as he drove into you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. The room grew hazy with lust, the only reality the feel of your bodies joined together.

"I don't want you to ever doubt how much I love you," Joe said through gritted teeth, his eyes stuck on your pleasure-ridden face. He pushed into you, each thrust a declaration of his love and ownership. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt the familiar tightness begin to coil within you for the third time that night. "Not when I'm with you, not when I'm at work, not when I'm around anyone else."

Your lovemaking grew more intense with every word, each one a promise that resonated through your soul. The feeling of him inside you was more than just physical; it was a reaffirmation of your commitment, a reminder of your bond. Your nails raked down Joe's back, leaving a trail of red in their wake. Your legs tightened around him, pulling him closer, as if you could somehow fuse your bodies into one.

"I fuck you too hard?" Joe smirked, his voice strained as he felt your tight grip on him. He knew you were close, your breath hitching in your throat, your eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

"Too good?" He continued his relentless pace, his hips slapping against yours. You could only nod, your mouth forming a silent "yes" as you rode the wave of ecstasy. Your legs trembled around him, your body begging for more.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” His mouth kept running as his voice became more strained with effort.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped out, your eyes flying open to meet Joe's intense gaze. You could feel your orgasm building, your muscles clenching around his cock. The way he filled you, the way he claimed you with every stroke, it was more than you could handle.

"How could you ever doubt me baby?" Joe whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he drove into you even deeper. 

His lips found your neck, biting at the soft flesh and soothing the pain with the flick of his tongue until you were squirming beneath him. "How could you doubt me when this good cock is just for you, huh?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head as another orgasm ripped through you without warning, your body tightening around Joe's cock. He groaned, feeling your pussy pulse with pleasure as he picked up the pace, driving into you faster and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, the bed shaking beneath you as you both gave yourselves over to the moment.

Joe felt his own release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing with every stroke. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, your teeth clashing together as you lost yourselves together. He could feel your pussy clench around him, milking his cock, and with a struggle of a moan, he came, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, you two lay there, panting and trembling, your hearts racing. Then Joe pulled out of you, collapsing beside you on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as you both fought to catch your breaths. You felt his heart thud against your chest, the steady beat a reassurance of his love and commitment.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you come," Joe murmured, his voice still thick with desire as he kissed the side of your neck. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the aftermath of your lovemaking. 

Moments later, you leaned back into his broad chest as you soaked in the warm water of your bathtub. Your bodies tangled together, the only sound your ragged breaths and the occasional whisper of love and reassurance. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfort and closeness that you hadn't felt in weeks. You knew your schedules were hectic, but moments like these reminded you why you had agreed to marry Joe in the first place.

"You know I don't doubt you, Joe," you murmured against his shoulder, your voice sleepy with satisfaction. "Tiffany's behavior today was weird. And I felt guilty about my feelings and I took it out on you."

Joe sighed, his arms tightening around you. "I’m sorry we’ve been so distant, baby. I'll talk to her. I hated seeing you so upset." He kissed the top of your head.

"Thank you," you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. Despite your exhaustion, you knew that talking about Tiffany had brought the issue back to the surface. But Joe's embrace made you feel safe, and you allowed yourself to relax into the comfort of his arms.

"It's not just her," Joe began, his voice serious. "I know I've been distant, with the season and everything. But you're my priority, always." His fingers traced lingering patterns into your ribcage under the water. "I don't want anything to come between us."

Your heart swelled at his words, his voice devoid of any sign of doubt. "I know you don't," you said softly. "We'll do better, baby. I know we can."

Joe nodded, a serious look crossing his features. "We will. I promise." He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. The silence was a welcome comfort, the weight of your promises lingering in the air.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hello!! Could you do a Regulus x Reader who is Barty's twin sister, maybe? It can be, like, just Barty being veeery dramatic his best friend is dating his "Precious Treasure, baby sister Y/N"

(If you want, could you do reader as Ravenclaw? I am one myself so that's why haha)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ defiled

synopsis: you’ve been sneaking around with regulus for weeks, but barty, bless his heart, finally catches you. after a series of over-the-top reactions, failed attempts to intimidate regulus, and a very official list of dating rules, barty still isn’t convinced—but that won’t stop you and regulus from having your fun content warnings: barty being overdramatic™, evan suffering through it all author's note: hey, lovie!! thank you so much for requesting. it is a non-specified house so you can go with ravenclaw if you want ♡ hope you love it, doll—mwah!! ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 818

You’d been sneaking off to meet Regulus for weeks under the guise of “study sessions.” Barty, bless his oblivious heart, bought it every time. But today, as fate would have it, you and Regulus were actually studying. You were sitting across from each other, surrounded by books, and for once, neither of you had so much as brushed hands.

Then the door burst open with a bang, and Barty stormed in, dragging a nonchalant-looking Evan at his side.

“REGULUS BLACK!” Barty bellowed, face red, practically foaming at the mouth. “HOW DARE YOU—”

You and Regulus jerked up, blinking at him with wide eyes. “Uh, Barty?” you ventured, pushing your Transfiguration book aside. “What’s wrong?”

Barty froze mid-rant, taking in the scene. The neatly aligned notes. The genuine, palpable… studying.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting from you to Regulus and back, as if desperately seeking a hint of anything he could use against the Slytherin. “I… uh. Right.” He looked at Evan, hoping for support.

“Yes,” Evan said blandly, “it looks very… scandalous, Barty.”

With an awkward cough and a dramatic hair toss, Barty turned on his heel, leaving the room as though he hadn’t just made a grand scene. You and Regulus waited a beat after the door clicked shut, then sighed in unison, sharing a relieved laugh.

But, naturally, peace was never meant to last.

A week later, you and Regulus finally let your guard down. You’d snuck into a secluded corner, exchanging long, soft kisses, when a horrified gasp echoed through the corridor.

“OH, MY TREASURED, PRECIOUS SISTER!” Barty’s voice thundered as he gaped at the two of you, Evan standing dutifully by his side with an unreadable expression. “ARE YOU SEEING THIS, EVAN?”

“Yes, Barty,” Evan deadpanned, “it’s… devastating. Truly. I may cry.”

Barty’s hand flew to his forehead, looking seconds from fainting. “REGULUS BLACK, YOU FILTHY SCOUNDREL! HOW DARE YOU—”

“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered, pulling away from Regulus, face red with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “Barty, please, it’s not that serious.”

“NOT THAT SERIOUS?” Barty’s eyes were wild. “My baby sister! My delicate, angelic sister, defiled by—by him!”

Evan’s lips twitched as he watched the spectacle, glancing at Regulus, who was entirely amused. “Well, you’re not wrong, Barty. It’s horrific.”

You huffed, crossing your arms with a smirk, looking every bit as sassy as Regulus. Barty, unable to handle it, marched off with a huff, refusing to speak to either of you. For the next week, he only addressed you both through Evan.

“Evan, tell her I refuse to be betrayed by my own blood.”

“Evan, tell Black he can burn in the deepest pits of Azkaban.”

Evan looked mildly entertained, relaying each line with a deadpan that had you and Regulus nearly in stitches every time.

Finally, though, when you and Regulus refused to go groveling back, Barty stormed up to the two of you in the common room, brandishing a very long list of what he called “The Rules of Courtship According to Barty Crouch Jr.”

“Listen, you two!” he declared, waving his list like a sword. “If you want to keep dating, you’ll have to agree to my conditions.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Alright, Barty. Let’s hear them.”

He cleared his throat, glancing at Evan for dramatic emphasis. “Condition one: Regulus shall send me weekly updates regarding his intentions.”

Regulus smirked, nodding with faux seriousness. “Of course, Barty. I’ll draft a parchment immediately.”

“Condition two,” Barty continued, “any romantic gesture that may involve public displays of affection will be cleared by me first.”

You bit back a laugh, looking at Regulus, who gave you a wink. “Completely understandable,” you replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Condition three: If Regulus breaks your heart,” Barty paused, swallowing, “I reserve the right to challenge him to a wizard’s duel.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Very noble of you, Barty.”

Barty ignored him, watching you both expectantly. “Do we have a deal?”

Regulus put a hand on his heart, leaning in toward you with mock reverence. “If that’s what it takes to keep you, love,” he murmured, looking like he was seconds away from laughing.

You turned to Barty with a playful smile, saluting him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. “Deal, Barty. I’ll keep your conditions in mind.”

Barty huffed, looking pleased with himself but suspicious, muttering under his breath about how “it better be taken seriously.” But as he stomped off with Evan in tow, you and Regulus just exchanged a look, barely managing to hold in your laughter until he was out of earshot.

And for the next few weeks, Barty would “accidentally” stumble upon you two in the most innocent scenarios—Regulus helping you with homework, walking you to class, even reading quietly together in the common room. He would leave with an awkward salute or finger guns every time he was deemed wrong.

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