#short lil snippet

[eternalreignblog]

This is a cute little smut prompt I wrote a while ago.

[muffinsin]

Blood and Tears

Sub/Brat! Cassandra Dimitrescu x dominant female OC "Verena"

She tries to be on top.

She tries to snarl and dominate as she usually does.

But this woman?

She just laughs, pins her down, and says; “Braves Mädchen”

Inspired by recent talks with my friend and some prior works between Faith and the deputy OC for Far cry 5. New OC can be found at the OC OVERVIEW for more Information on her person

Masterlists

Cassandra snarls, her sharp nails digging into muscular forearms as she shoves the other woman against the cold stone wall, her lips bloody from the kiss they just shared, the woman's blood lingering on her tongue and pooling by her lips and bitten throat. Her claw-like nails dig into her through the tight shirt she wears, her golden eyes almost glow in the rather dark room the fly woman dragged her to.

She seethes.

She hates her.

Oh, but how she keeps on running back to her, also.

"Don't think you can just-!", she's about to snarl again. Instead, a hand shoots out, rough, callused fingers reeking of oil and metal from a hard day's work grabbing at her bloodied chin- tight, tight enough for her to hiss and bare her teeth again- and force her to tilt her head back with strength that never fails to make Cassandra's flies buzz loudly and betray the pure need she feels.

"Your mouth is sharp, Schatz", the woman growls, taking a step away from the wall, her fingers tightening their grasp on the Dimitrescu sister. Her voice is low, a smoky purr almost, with just the hint of an accent that constantly has Cassandra sit at a curious edge, wanting to find out more. "But your body? It tells the truth", the woman purrs, laughing when Cassandra snarls again, her pride burning as it always does with this one, and goes to claw at her again.

Easily, so easily the woman gasps and bites her lip harshly to stifle a low moan, she's spun around, her back slammed to the wall this time, her arms pinned above her by just one powerful hand.

The other hand drags down her corset, popping clasps like they’re nothing.

She snarls, tugs with her arms only to have the grip on her wrists tighten and force her tighter against the stone. She feels the pressure, feels as though the woman could easily snap her rather petite wrists in two if she wanted to, the cadou coursing through her blood, too, though not quite in the same way as it does through Cassandra's. She almost scoffs at the thought.

Of course, she could free herself, could swarm, could evade the muscular arms and strong fingers, could squirm away as the corset is undone and ripped away from her chest with such force it leaves her breath stuttering.

She hates her.

She loves this.

And she always returns.

"Let go of me!", she hisses angrily, her sharp teeth dripping with blood still, but the woman cares little for it, flashing her own, sharp teeth as she laughs loudly at her. She too knows how easily Cassandra could turn the table on her, how she could use her swarm to not only escape, but kill her easily. But she doesn't. Not when she's manhandled, not when she's undressed, not when she's kissed.

Ah, but she loves to act like she hates it, and who is she to deny her? Who is she to not play into the game the two of them have grown so fond of?

"Oh?", the hums instead, her arm flexing as fingers grab at the brunette's dress and yank it up, revealing tight, black underwear that desperately clings to her soaked pussy. Cassandra shivers, turning her head as though it might hide the light blush building at her cheeks.

"Why?", the woman asks then, flashing her a cocky, self-satisfied smile as she inhales and picks up the heavy scent of the huntresses' arousal. "You're already soaking through these pretty little things...", she coos, chuckling lowly when she boldly push inside, cupping the woman's trembling, hot core easily. Cassandra snarls, her blush deepening, her fingers curling and flies growing louder still.

She bites sharply at her lip, drawing dark blood, all to stop her hips from bucking and to prevent herself from greedily humping the woman's strong hand. She insists to herself; she won't give in so easily, this time! Surely...! Ah...but then the woman leans close, her hot voice dipping low near her ear, arousal dripping off her words;

"So verdammt heiß, Cassandra. So needy"

Her hips twitch and her sharp, fang-like teeth bare in a snarl, but it breaks into a little whine when the woman's hold on her tightens, her fingers curling tighter around her wrists and digging into the soft, hot flesh of her wet pussy.

"You need to be handled, Süße", she chuckles lowly by her ear, her chuckle turning to almost amused laughter when Cassandra turns her head to bite at her and she's forced to draw back. "There we go...", she hums. "That's why you fight, why you push, isn't it? You want someone strong enough to tame you, brat"

Cassandra snarls, but she feels as shivers run down her spine. By now especially, the woman knows her. She knows what drives her, knows what she wants and needs, knows why she keeps on returning to her like the needy brat she is and why she won't kill her when she could and acts like she wants to. She knows why only she can make her feel this way, knows only she can tame the big, bad, sadistic Cassandra Dimitrescu and reduce her to what only she wants her to be.

"I want to rip your throat out!", she snaps, but makes no true effort to do so at all, and both of them know it. In fact, her sickle still lays untouched on the ground where she had dropped it, but the muscular woman spares her the humiliation by not pointing this out; still, she knows Cassandra would hardly need it to kill her, anyway.

She laughs at her words, the sound deep, low, and revealing just how aroused she is, too. The brunette can't help but wonder whether this will be one of the times her hair is grabbed so hard it hurts and she's forced on her knees in front of her, her own sickle held to her throat, a useless threat, for she too knows the woman would never kill her, a threat to remind her not to use her teeth on her.

"Versuch es, Liebling", the woman laughs. Cassandra snarls, by now familiar with the words spoken in a language she doesn't speak.

Try it, honey.

Oh, and how the words make her blood boil.

In the next moment her wrists are tugged, however, the hand between her legs slipping and roughly grabbing at her slim hip, forcing her body with the woman before she's thrown forth, just barely managing to catch herself on one of the tables in front of her.

She's fuming, snarling, hissing!

Her pussy aches, her entire body begging for the woman's touch.

She hates her.

She loves every damned second of this.

And she hates it.

She gasps as her hair is grabbed roughly, her head forced down and legs kicked apart by two strong thighs. With no effort at all the woman yanks her dress up and tears her slim panties from her, her fingers clutching brunette strands of hair a little tighter when she hears the woman snarl and yell little, useless threats, desperate to conceal the moans below them.

She screeches as her legs are forced apart wider and she feels her panties be torn from her, but it all dies and turns into a choked out moan when two, then a third finger slides deep inside of her and starts to thrust right away.

She knows, after all, not to take her time preparing Cassandra. She knows her little huntress likes it rough, by now.

"There we go...", she groans, her unpainted, bitten and dry lips curling to a self satisfied smirk as she feels the wet heat stretch around her. She laughs as Cassandra pants and whines helplessly, her eyes stinging at the stretch of the fingers. Certainly, she's taken this much and more, though with her swarm confusing it with a proper wound and the cadou within her easily "healing" this wound, she feels as tight as a virgin now stretched across three strong fingers. "You're already dripping, Cassie", the woman coos darkly, only grinding against her and laughing when the brunette snarls again, her hips shaking and thighs trembling, her head turning to have her let go of her hair already.

What comes instead is hardly better.

Cassandra, to her embarrassment and humiliation, squeaks when her ass is slapped hard, once, then twice, then three times, each slap of the woman's rough palm enough to make her jerk and hiss stupidly among her moans.

"Louder", she commands. "Let me hear it. Scream for me, Schätzchen"

Cassandra's pride shatters on the spot and her voice rises in a snarl that so easily cracks into a breathy moan instead. While she tries to play her game still, to snarl and hiss and threaten and insult, her body betrays her and easily submits to the woman.

Her pussy so eagerly clenches around her fingers as though not wanting to let go, each push inside of her creating a wet sound that only tears at the brunette's remaining pride. She feels herself grind back against the woman's muscular front, until the fingers sink in until the knuckle, drawing more moans and gasps from her.

She hates it.

She loves it.

She tries to bite her lip to muffle her own moans, though the woman doesn't allow it, bringing her hand down on her ass each time she attempts it and making her bite hard enough to draw blood.

Cassandra moans hotly instead, her reddened ass cheek groped and stroked, her pussy full and toyed with, each thrust hitting her G-Spot.

She hates how well the woman knows her by now, how well she knows her body, by now.

Ah, but she loves it, keeps crawling back to her, keeps poking at her until she's dragged off and punished again, keeps seducing her until she's yanked with her and bent over, made to play out her fantasies and take what she's given.

She tries to hold off her orgasm, tries not to cum too fast, but with the pain of her front and her face being thrust up against the table with every thrust inside, the pain on her ass and the feeling of the fingers twisting and turning occaisonally inside of her, she feels so close, so near, so full...

She crumbles, trembling as she reaches out to grasp at the table, her sharp nails digging inside and tearing at the wood. She screams, ein gutes Mädchen, a good girl for the smug woman, and her hips twitch adorably when the woman simply continues on, easily working her through it and helping her through the powerful orgasm- an orgasm that, annoyingly, only she can ever make Cassandra experience these days.

She trembles when the fingers are slipped out of her, her cheeks burning hotly as she picks up the subtle, but bold, wet sounds of the woman licking and sucking her fingers clean.

"Braves Mädchen", the woman whispers, her hand reaching out to stroke brunette strands of hair almost gently.

And almost obediently, or perhaps only greedy for more, Cassandra stays bent over the table, her thighs spread, her pussy drooling creamy cum onto the wood. Then, when she practically feels the woman's satisfied smirk as she watches this, she stands, her legs shaky, her body wrecked, soaked and pulsing. She holds onto the table as she stands up, her heels barely clinging to her feet still, her stockings wet, her panties nowhere to be found. If the woman was to turn around, Cassandra might be able to make out the outline of them in the back-pocket of her rough jeans.

She snarls breathlessly when the woman moves in again, her hand setting at her hip, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress, still clinging to her, just tugged up. The woman rarely has time to take it off of her, but when she does, Cassandra knows she's in for a long night.

She almost pouts, pitying that today seems to not be this case.

Then, when her hand slowly slides across the stronger one at her hip, and the woman foolishly doesn't turn away, she strikes. She laughs as she digs in, her sharp, claw-like nails dragging through her thick, muscular upper arm and back down to her hand, immediately drawing blood that pours from the slashes.

Immediately, the woman snarls back at her, her sharp teeth bared, her bloodied hand shooting up and twisting in brunette strands of hair.

She's pulled back by it, forced to arch her back, yanked closer. She snarls as she's forced to show her throat, bared to the woman like an offering, but she doesn't move in for the kill. Cassandra hisses as the woman's hand rises, though it skips her throat and grabs her chin instead, well aware of the boundaries their rough little game includes. She knows not to touch her there, knows what's good for her even when she manhandles her.

Again, Cassandra hisses, her teeth, bloodied like her nails, flashing again, but it's a weaker, breathier sound now. She's panting, moaning helplessly as she feels wetness drool from her and she picks up the scent of the woman's blood. She turns her head, tries to, for a little taste, but her hair is yanked harshly and she instead is left to moan at the pain it brings her.

"There, there, just when I thought we wrapped things up for today", she sighs lowly, well aware of how Cassandra's eyes briefly flash with disappointment. No, she certainly won't admit her need, but her body and actions speak louder than the words she refuses to utter. She doesn't speak on it, but smirks at the sight.

The brunette shrieks when she's roughly pushed down, her flies just barely forming a swarm before she hits the ground, only to reform once there, her hair still held tight, a glare to her eyes as she stares up at the woman. She hisses, but she doesn't get up, doesn't disobey.

"You act like a queen", the woman growls, replaying the countless times the sadist thought she could play god at the castle, choosing who lives and who is dragged off, acting like a spoiled, entitled little brat with everyone but her. "But you kneel like a good girl when I say so"

Cassandra almost gets up instinctively, her lips curling to a snarl, but a single tug of her hair is enough to send her back down and even have her whine a little. She looks up, her golden eyes full of hate, hunger, want, and desire, and when the woman releases her hair and cups her jaw, she doesn't pull away, even when she smirks down at her.

"So hübsch, wenn du mal zuhörst...", the woman hums. "Show me who you belong to", she demands, laughing when the woman shudders subtly, only snarling in response.

Certainly, it's difficult taming her. But she doesn't mind. Whether Cassandra admits she's having fun out loud or not, whether she admits that she is hers or not, they both enjoy their encounters anyway.

She feels the woman grip at her hair again, but doesn't move away, doesn't even snarl. Instead, she allows herself to be guided forward and moans when the woman roughly slides her bloodied hand over her mouth, her tongue eagerly lapping at the blood coating it.

She's so lost, she doesn't notice her other hand move, not until the woman's belt hits her in the cheek and her pants and underwear are tugged down, not until the hand leaves her lips and the blood is instead dragged across her bare pussy.

Cassandra rolls her eyes, glancing up at her with a look she hopes shows her dislike towards the woman. But she only smirks, and moans when her huntress moves in, her tongue dragging against her folds, her nose brushing against her clit.

"H-A-ah, just like that...", she groans, tightening her grasp at Cassandra's hair warningly as she feels her sharp teeth drag against her folds. intentionally, without doubt, perhaps even eager to draw more blood from her. A single yank has the brunette tilt her head a little, though, her tongue smoothing over the irritated skin just before it pushes inside the taller woman.

"Keep going, good girl...use that sharp tongue for something useful, Süße"

Cassandra whines against her, her eyes pressing shut as her blush spreads from her cheeks to her neck.

She hates this.

Ah, but she laps at her hungrily, moaning at her taste like a starved woman.

And she will be back after today, she knows, subtly begging for this again, never admitting it out loud, never stopping until the woman harshly grabs at her and uses her again.

Cassandra's drenched already, her pussy drooling against her thick thighs and onto the ground beneath her, moaning softly as she tastes the woman on her tongue. Her body burns with humiliation and need alike, though when she attempts to snake one of her hands down to play with herself, the woman catches it easily and gives her hair a harsh yank, threatening something in german she can't understand.

Still, she trembles at the thought.

She whines into her, so utterly needy and desperate to feel something again, too, but all she is met with is laughter.

"Be good, and I will reward you after", the woman husks out lowly, her eyes squeezing shut as she feels her orgasm nearing, too, having been painfully on edge and soaked since Cassandra decided to swarm by and bother her again.

She moans softly as she feels the woman drink her in, her body pushing against hers, her sharp, claw-like nails dragging against the fabric of her already torn shirt. She tightens her grip on her, a warning not to tear the fabric even more, and shivers when the vibrations of Cassandra's chuckle nearly push her over the edge.

Still, it takes little to nothing to do so, and when it's her turn to cum at last, she does so with an almost animalistic growl, fisting dark, soft, bloodied hair and gasping loudly.

She tugs the brat up to her, panting lowly as she pushes her lips against hers. As usual, Cassandra's nails dig into her upper arms, creating yet more wounds that will have blood pour from them and stain her shirt, but she doesn't pull away. She groans at the pain, chuckling lowly against softer, bloody lips when she tightens her grip and drags a cute whine from the brunette, too.

"Look at you...", she whispers, her accent thick and almost affectionate, enough so that it has the Dimitrescu whine and try to turn her head away.

She once again yanks her hair and makes her tilt her head back, her mouth- never her hands- latching onto her exposed throat as her free hand tugs up the black dress and her palm grinds against a sopping wet pussy once more.

"Scheiße, you're still dripping for me, Süße", she coos, her breath brushing hotly against Cassandra's throat, briefly fogging the yellow crystal sitting snuggly at her choker before she moves past it, eager to drag her tongue across the sensive flesh.

Ah, but it's when she digs in that she knows she has her again.

Cassandra screams as she feels sharp, hungry teeth dig into her throat, not enough to tear, to kill, but enough to hurt and sting, enough for blood to drip into the woman's mouth, enough for her hips to buck up and for her to hump the woman's hand as though in heat.

"Awhh, hat das Weh getan, Kleine?", the woman laughs. Had she not been so distracted, the brunette would have snarled at her for her tone even as she doesn't understand the mocking words spoken to her and doesn't recognize the humiliatingly cute petname given to her.

She whines pitifully instead, moaning and humping helplessly, her sharp nails digging in and drawing more blood that has her see stars.

She loves this.

She hates how only she can make her feel like this.

She hates how only she understands her like this.

She hates how only she knows what she needs.

She loves every second of it.

"Say it", the woman whispers against her neck, her finger lazily stroking slow, tight circles over Cassandra's pearly clit, enough so to make her gasp and tremble. "Tell me who made you like this", she coos, laughing only when the brunette grits her teeth.

"F-fuck you...", she pants, defiant even as more moans are forced from her soft, bloodied lips.

But again, the taller woman doesn't take it to heart. She only grins, her tongue dragging hotly across the bite now lingering at the other woman's bared throat, her lips pressing into it as she whispers; "Nein, meine Süße. You'll thank me"

Another cry, and another tremor, ripped from the stubborn brat when she presses ehr finger tighter against her clit, cruel, perfect.

She moans hotly as she feels claw-like nails drag against her shoulders low, digging in deeply, creating lethal wounds if she was a mere mortal. She laughs only, embracing the pain her little sadist so eagerly inflicts even in her current state.

Cassandra groans softly for her, her hips rolling, chasing an orgasm again already as her body begins to feel weaker, hotter, tighter all at once. She's clinging to her more than she'd like to admit, mewling beneath her when she tightens her grip on her hair and thrusts three fingers back into her, her brushes over her clit hard, fast, her breath hot against her throat. She feels the blood tickle down, feels spit and blood mix at the bite marks.

So close...

So close...

Almost...

And then, just when her moans break into little cries again and she thinks she will collapse with her next orgasm, the woman stops completely.

She gasps, struggling to lift her head with the harsh grip on her hair, instead left to only plead; "Wh-what-?". The words come out small, needy, far more desperate and pathetic than the brunette would have liked.

But again, the other woman only smirks against her.

"Beg", she commands. "Knees spread. Eyes up at me. Use that filthy little mouth"

Immediately, humiliation burns bright in her chest and pools at her stomach, her stubbornness battling her need. Her pussy throbs, clenching around and almost milking the fingers deep within her, but they don't move, and the finger moves from the clit the moment she tries to drag her hips and hump against it.

Helpless.

Agony.

Heaven.

She wants to snarl, wants to hiss, wants to bite and scratch at the hand that feeds her. She wants to bite a chunk from the woman's throat, wants to ride her as she sees life flash before her eyes, then leave her. She wants to bathe in her blood and rub against her guts, wants to kill this insufferable, beautiful, creature.

Instead, she parts her lips, moaning softly. She looks up at her as instructed and stays perfectly in position when the woman lets go of her hair. She doesn't beg, won't, not yet, but the woman doesn't make her, knowing it will take much more for her favorite brat to start doing so.

Instead, she merely slides a bloodied, callused finger in her mouth, slowly, and watches as Cassandra wraps her lips around it obediently, careful with her teeth, her tongue like a soft blanket around and over it.

Golden eyes squeez shut, the humiliation burning deliciously at her.

She hates this.

She loves this.

She needs this.

"Gutes Mädchen, tiefer"

She moans softly as the woman pushes forth, the fingers in her mouth thrusting forwards slowly while the ones in her pussy curl within her. She's whimpering, a blushing mess fingered on both ends.

And it leaves her soaked even as she tries so hard to seem in control. The other woman has nothing of it.

"You're still pretending you're in control of this...", she hums softly, curling her fingers a little more as her others drag against Cassandra's warm tongue. "So süß..."

Adorable. Certainly not a word used to describe the Dimitrescu often.

Then, at last, she pulls her finger from her mouth with a wet "pop" again, instead smashing her lips against her as she continues working at her between her legs. Ah, and her body is responding so beautifully, her lips hot and greedy against hers, her tongue first battling for dominance, then accepting submission when the woman grabs her breast through the dress and gropes hungrily. Her pearly clit throbs and pulses beneath her finger, her pussy leaking creamy wetness onto her palm and drooling it down her fingers.

"The next time you come to me acting like a brat...", she whispers against hot lips, pressing another sharp, passionate kiss to the sadist that has her moan into her mouth before she continues; "...Remember how you are now. Look at you...whimpering, shaking. Wet like a girl in heat"

"I-I'm nngnn-not-!"- Cassandra spits, but her voice easily breaks into a breathy moan when those strong fingers thrust up sharply and when her breasts are slapped through the dress, her whole body jolting and legs trembling adorably.

"Don't lie to me"

The woman's voice drops again, low, commanding, harsh and soft at the same time.

"Du bist mein Spielzeug. Mein Mädchen. Denk' nicht, dass ich dich dass vergessen lasse"

Cassandra trembles, recognizing only some of the words she has tried to look up after hearing the woman say them a few times. Her pride claws for something, anything to cling to, but she's trembling, whimpering, moaning hotly at every touch. She can only snarl against her lips, even as she moans and whines hotly again when it earns her a slap to her chest again before the woman resumes her groping. She almost wishes she had taken the time to swarm out of the dress, to feel the rough touches on her skin.

"You want me to stop?", the woman asks, cruel, but calm, her fingers thrusting a little harsher still and making the sadist gasp and jerk within her grasp. Her flies are loud and almost jittery, some breaking off her form and flying around uselessly while others dig into the strong woman's frame, biting, tasting blood.

"D-don't you dare-"

She laughs. "Oh, she begs now?", she teases, smirking when she feels the shorter woman attempt to stand a little taller, her head lifting for another kiss. "Armes Ding...so wet, and so proud still...", she whispers against her lips, though grants her another kiss she so desperately wants.

Then, at last, she starts moving her hand fast, her thrusts inside ruthless, enough to make the masochist scream and moan, her nipples rocky hard beneath her dress, her knees buckling, her body still grinding down on each thrust anyway. Shame burns at her cheeks, but she leans up for more kisses, clings to her, moves her hips anyway. Her pussy clenches around her and she almost feels her pride melt away from her.

Stripped from her.

She hates her.

Gods, she needs her.

Another scream. Another sob that makes the other woman's pussy throb with want. Cassandra’s nails carve into her strong shoulders and arms, desperate for anything to hold onto, her legs unsteady, thighs aching and trembling.

"You like being owned", the woman whispers against her lips. "You like when I break you"

She hates her.

She hates how right she is.

She loves this.

She loves being broken.

"I-ha-a-ah...I-I hate you-", she tries to snarl, but the woman easily captures her lips in another harsh kiss.

"Nein", she denies, her words hot against her as she drives her closer and closer to the edge. "You love this. You love me"

She doesn't stop, not until her brat is pushed over the edge, until she clings to her sharply, violently almost, until she cries out and her legs collapse, until she falls right into her arms, her breathing ragged and chest heaving, her fingers twitching against her shoulders, her head falling against her throat.

Pliant.

Her good girl.

She laughs as she feels the familiar, light, ticklish feeling of the flies around her, only stays still as the woman swarms out of her arms brokenly, then out the room.

Satisfied, for now, but she knows;

She will be back.

She always comes back.

————————

Considering making a more unique series between these two. What are we thinking👀

[arsenicflame]

Sam Bellamy is dead.

He isn't, of course, he can't be. A man like that couldn't be taken down by something so mundane as a storm, so stupid to make an error sailing around the coast. He’d always been untouchable, seemingly unaffected by the violence and fear that tainted the rest of them. The blood that stained their hands washed away from his. Sam Bellamy was the best of them, a shining example of a future worth living. Even as the years wore on, he never seemed to flinch or falter. He remained, as always, perfect, faultless, untouchable, unchanging.

So, Sam Bellamy can’t be dead, right?

Or at least, That’s what Izzy tells himself.

[defectivehero]

“Can I walk you home?” The villain asks. The hero stares at her enemy for a moment, convinced she misheard something. Evidently, she didn't.

“Why?” The hero manages to choke out. The thought is amusing. “So I don’t get kidnapped? That’s ironic, considering you’re the one who would be most likely to kidnap me.”

“Oh, please, I'd never kidnap you randomly,” the villain scoffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. She's steadily avoiding eye contact now. “I’d ask you first, at the very least.”

“Consensual kidnapping,” the hero mutters disbelievingly to herself. She shoves her hands in her pockets, an attempt to do away with some of her restless energy. “Great. Okay, fine. You can walk me home.”

The villain grins.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain All Rights Reserved (blah blah, just don't steal pls)

[wikiangela]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @weewootruck @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks 💖

a lil snippet of the christmas tree fic that probably won't be done until after christmas oops haha (i always forget how busy christmastime is lol) but ill try to finish it by the end of the year

also, if you celebrate, merry christmas everyone 🎄💖or just happy holidays haha

prev snippet

___

And now there’s Buck. His best friend, his co-parent, his partner… and since very recently, his boyfriend. It’s fairly new, just a few weeks, but it doesn’t feel like it. Eddie feels as if they’ve been together for years now. In a way, they have. They’ve been dancing around their feelings for such a long time, Eddie’s not even sure when it started. But they made it official just a while back, and the transition from friendship to romance surprisingly felt like the most natural and easiest thing in the world. Like it was always meant to happen.

This year it’s their first Christmas together as a couple, and Eddie thought he’d be nervous, but he’s really not. It’s the most normal thing, buying gifts for their kid together, decorating the house together, picking out a tree.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @exhuastedpigeon @buckaroosheart @king-buckley @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @jeeyuns @daffi-990 @callmenewbie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @jamespearce9-1-1 @steadfastsaturnsrings

[chericheribaby]

little snippet before bed || slutty shorts James is coming for all of us, stay safe out there <3

Regulus dares to take another look at the guy. They seem to be doing some warm-up in pairs, taking turns throwing the ball and receiving it. Slutty red shorts —James, he reminds himself, is the one doing the reception at the moment Regulus looks up, which means he’s the one squatting. Regulus can’t help but stare; there's nothing left to the imagination with the clothes this man is wearing. His bum looks amazing, all round and utterly perfect. Those shorts are hugging James’ thighs so tight he’s afraid it’s gonna burst at the seams any moment now.

Even from afar, Regulus can see the way his muscles shift every time James moves, trying to catch the ball. Regulus wonders if they would be hard or soft, under his touch. Under his lips. The sound he makes as he almost chokes with his own saliva is embarrassing enough he’s glad no one has clocked how pathetic he is being at the moment. “You’re pathetic,” ah, well, almost no one. Pandora is right, regardless.

Regulus can’t even deny it.

[hyuniebinnie]

listening to hop as we speak thank you stray kids🙏🙏

[roze-sloth]

Aku & Dazai first meeting/recruitment: short story 'A Heartless Dog' by Asagiri Kafka

Page 01 & 02

(other pages under read-more)

[bitchslapblastoids]

like, what are the ethics of cutting and posting short clips on tumblr from longer subscription-only videos?

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 12 prompt: Insomnia

Characters: Ray, Alec Ages: 18, 20

Ray yawned for what felt like the hundredth time that night, swarmed with schoolwork he had been putting off for days and now he only has a couple of hours left until all of it is due. He yawned again, leaning back into his chair and wiping away tears he wasn't even sure was from all his yawning or not.

He let out a long sigh, stared at the ceiling for awhile before lightly slapping himself to get back to work. He brought the chair closer to the desk, propping up his chin on his hand as he looked at what he has left to finish. There were still some essays to be written, a couple of worksheets to be answered. Ray looked at the time on his laptop, 4 am, he looked to the side of the desk, littered with cans of energy drinks and two empty cups of that once had coffee with several shots of espresso inside.

Ray groaned as he carelessly dropped his head on the desk with a thud. Why couldn't he have gradually worked on these things like most of his classmates had done? They were given weeks! And yet here he is, doing weeks' worth of work in just hours, like a failure. Can't he even go a single month without being a disappointment to the people around him?

Ah, but he has. Every month. Ray gritted his teeth, grabbing his hair tightly. He thanks his parents for insisting on that acting class, it was all he has going for him now. Acting. A skill he uses every single day. No one knows how bad of a failure he truly is, no one knows how much of a disappointment he can be. Every day he puts on a mask that no one can see through, and every day he struggles to even do something as simple as waking up in the morning and sleeping at night.

He isn't as great as he presents himself to be.

Ray suddenly felt someone grab his hands, he flinched at the touch and quickly raised his head it made his vision spin a bit. Alec stood beside him with a small frown.

“You're gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke in a slightly monotone voice, something that had been the case for years now. Ray sometimes miss the voice Alec had before that incident, when it was so full of emotion.

“Ah, sorry.” Ray chuckled.

Alec looked at the papers cluttered all over the desk, he tilted his head, “Do you need help?”

“Ah… No, not really…” Ray was unsure how to answer that.

“You need rest.”

Ray let out a small laugh, “Not yet, I need to finish these today.”

There was a beat of silence, until a small voice broke it before it went on for long, “I'm worried about you.”

Ray looked at Alec, his childhood best friend, who had become empty and emotionless, yet there are times where he shows such rare genuine emotion, Ray couldn't possibly ignore it. In the end, he can't really win against those puppy eyes, can he?

Ray let out a sigh, with a mixture of emotion he couldn't recognize at that moment, “I guess… I do need help after all.”

There was always one person that sees through such an act.

[d-e-w-p]

Writing prompt:

There is a kingdom, small in its capital. They prosper despite having little land: It's people are never hungry, plagues and droughts and floods are foreign to its soil. Apart from the occasional petty crime, lawlessness is low. The people are happy.

The neighbouring kingdoms sense an easy target for expansion. One kingdom sends an army of 10,000 soldiers to conquer this small land.

None return.

Another kingdom sends 50,000.

None return.

And more and more armies are sent. And yet still none return.

So then go couriers and spies and merchants. infiltrators of all kinds. To report upon yhe fate of their forces.

None return.

At last the neighbouring kingdoms ally together and call for a summit. To come together and summon the leader of this insignificant place they all attempted to claim and ask-

-Where did they all go?

[fagbearentertainment]

Teehee I has dialtown animation idea :)

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: Spin-off

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. Update: Sylus went ahead and got himself mortalized (That's it, that's the plot). Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, slight crack (literally. lmao, you’ll see), FLUFF! A/N: Finally starting the spin-off! Hello again 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 I’ve got a rough outline for the flow and a few key chapters mapped out, but I’m keeping it flexible for the most part. This isn’t gonna be a full structured story, so think more like vignettes of their life, w/ some world-building here and there (laying some groundwork for future chapters hehe). Come thru if you wanna see what error!Sylus and our lil player are up to post-reality jump 🙂‍↕️🙏🏼 Also: no posting schedule! I’m treating this like a chill side project I can pick up whenever, so not every part’s gonna be lengthy/that polished hehe. Mostly short snippets, unless the chapter calls for a longer one. (P.S. Just send a DM if you want to be taken off the taglist lol. I just assumed you guys would still want to follow along, but no pressure at all if you don’t! 💕)

(main series) - Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

You keep waiting to wake up.

For the sound of your phone alarm to blare somewhere beneath the covers, forcing you to fish it out at seven-thirty-something in the morning. For this absolutely wonderful, absolute mindfuck of a dream, to end—and for the real world to set in. 

For another uneventful day to begin, the way it usually does after a short reprieve from the hustle and the bustle of life.

From behind the bathroom door, the sound of the shower cuts off.

You scramble to open the cupboard overhead, grabbing the pepper shaker from the first shelf. You do four rotations over the half-cooked omelette before flipping it over with a rubber spatula, trying not to lose your cool. Or what’s left of it.

Three days. It’s been three days since it dawned on you that Sylus has actually managed to cross the threshold – through a tiny, impossible fissure in the fabric of reality – just to get to this dimension. Your dimension.

Three days since you locked eyes with the other half of your soul from across a room, no screen separating the two of you for once. No physical barrier to stop him from catching you as you ran toward him past the counter, just as twilight kissed the sky goodnight, sobbing at the first touch of his skin—electric against yours. The taste of his lips, the bittersweet notes of extant longing and pure bliss blooming on your tongue as he captured your mouth in his; the two of you lost in each other, uncaring of anything beyond that precious, shared moment. 

And three days for your mind to finally catch up to the sheer impossibility of it all.

As far as your Sundays go, you’d say this one takes the cake.

He’s been staying in a modest little rental just a couple of blocks away from you. Nothing extravagant – just a transient house he’s leased for the week. Not that you’ve technically been inside to know; he only pointed it out once, the single-storey residential from across the main street, as the two of you were heading back home—your home. To your little studio apartment.

Him. Sylus. In your condo. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around it.

You know that he’d just arrived in town two days before that fateful encounter at the bistro. That he’d already done his research to know exactly where you were going to be during that hour, and that he’s been here, on Earth, for quite some time now. Even before meeting you.

But past this knowledge, you haven’t actually covered much of anything, really. Just this little awkward dancing around you’ve been doing since you’ve been together.

And you know you should ask, probe, have him break down the hows of his existence to you, a clearer timeline of exactly when he popped into this world, what he’s been up to in all the time he’s been here… and why he’s even waited so long to come to you directly.

You’re painfully aware that it’s just you who’s keeping yourself from getting the answers you want. You’re the one making this harder than it needs to be. You can’t help it.

There’s no manual to tell you how to deal with your emotions when your virtual lover appears in front of you, in the flesh, miraculously defying all laws of physics in the process. No handbook telling you what to do next when something you’ve been wishing for every night before going to bed – for the past two years – actually manifests into being. 

Someone you’ve always longed for, staked deep within the confines of your heart, but never truly imagined the consequences of until your wishful thinking bled into reality.

And now he’s here.

All things considered, you think you’ve done an okay job at acting like everything’s normal. Mostly. Probably.

(You haven’t.)

The day after he showed up at your proverbial doorstep, you almost couldn’t believe everything that had transpired a mere twenty hours ago was even real. That maybe your brain had just gotten creative enough to invent a Hallmark-worthy scene to win you a one-way trip to your therapist—and that, maybe, you’d conjured him up simply because you missed him and you’re so down bad, your mind decided to start playing tricks on you.

...which nearly had your soul catapulting out of your body at the sight of the—extremely corporeal, extremely attractive—raven-haired (!) man moving through your kitchen the first morning he stayed over, wearing a black V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants, ambling barefoot like he already knew the place by heart.

You suppose he does, you allow cautiously, an odd sort of warmth blooming in your chest at the thought. Of course he would. 

Still. It didn’t erase the surrealness of seeing Sylus, the Sylus—mortal, perfect, wonderfully alive—brewing you a cup of coffee at nine in the morning, your brain failing to fully comprehend the image of his towering figure working your faulty, secondhand De’Longhi like a pro.

"Are you," he started, eyes zooming in on the spot between your thumb and forefinger, mouth twitching like he's trying not to laugh, "pinching yourself?"

You had quickly withdrawn your hand, schooling your face into a poor attempt at nonchalance as you reached for the steaming blue mug he was holding out to you. "...No."

You can't help but hover around him, like some weird satellite desperate for orbit. You find yourself sneaking glances every five seconds—and more often than not, he meets your gaze with a wayward look of his own.

He never calls you out on it; he just gives you an infuriatingly impish smirk that sends your heart into overdrive, making you feel younger than you are. 

You’re still stewing over the events of the past few days, absentmindedly worrying whether the eggs needed more salt, when you hear the bathroom door open.

You whip your head around, and all systems crash to a stop.

Oh god. Oh fuck. 

He’s standing there—all six-foot-five of pure, lean muscle, like sin sculpted out of marble and left to walk your unvacuumed parquet wood floor without so much as a care for the cluttered little living space he’s in, looking completely at ease. Fresh from the shower, steam rising lazily from every inch of bare skin laid out in front of you, and it’s like The Neuron™ in your brain activates. The towel slung low across his hips leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, reducing your thoughts monosyllabic, like some half-evolved primate ready for mating season or whatever. Hot man. Hot man shirtless. Involuntarily, your eyes track a stray rivulet sliding down; right where the faintest suggestion of a happy trail (!!!) begins and ends… and you’re gone. Lost in some kind of trance. 

Utterly hypnotised, you watch as it soaks into the edge of the borrowed sage green terry cotton, faintly wondering if what’s beneath it could soak you the same way, shit—

A strangled noise slips past your lips. 

It’s terrible. You sound like a dying cow. Hot man’s fault. Bad.  

A snort breaks you out of your shameless ogling. 

Your head jerks up like you’ve been caught red-handed doing something you're not supposed to, guiltily meeting his eyes. You see Sylus already watching you wryly, the heavy drag of his half-lidded stare rooting you in place. 

Your face starts to flush red with embarrassment, heat climbing all the way up to your ears. 

He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe; arms crossed loosely over his chest, completely relaxed, and clearly getting a kick out of whatever expression you’ve got at the moment. His gaze doesn't waver, stuck on you like glue, drinking in every flustered reaction with quiet amusement. 

You swallow nervously. His eyes flicker down, tracing the movement of your throat, and his lips tug up into a semblance of a smile.

Fuuuuck.

"You already started on breakfast without me, sweetie?" He tuts in mock-disapproval. "I told you it’d take me less than twenty minutes to shower."

You don’t manage much in response, just a dumb, garbled, "mhm, s’okay."

You're completely blanked out at this point—bluescreen dead if you will—except for one panicked thought flashing through your brain: Holy shit, he's practically naked. Sylus Qin from Love and Deepspace is practically naked in my house. 

Then, not long after, a chorus of, “oh my god oh my god oh my god” starts looping in your head, overriding what little composure you had left like some raunchy PSA warning you about the dangerous rise of moisture down south.  

Sylus cocks his head slightly, sending you a sly, knowing look—one that says he knows exactly what's going on in that overstimulated little brain of yours.

Slowly, he pushes himself off and saunters closer to where you are, taking his time crossing the distance with easy, measured steps. As if he’s in no rush at all to get to you. As if he’s merely curious whether you’ll combust just from him shortening the proximity between your bodies. 

(You think you just might.)

And when he’s standing barely a few inches away – close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him – Sylus leans down, effectively trapping you between the counter and the solid wall of his chest. Between granite and sinew. 

You lose all capacity to speak.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches out a hand to shut off the burner stove behind you with an easy flick of his wrist, the brief brush of his arm sending a shiver down your spine. Then, with maddening tenderness, he pinches your cheek between two fingers—his thumb caressing the spot right after.

In a voice filled with faux sympathy, he coos, “What’s got you all distracted, poppet?”

He’s teasing. You know he’s teasing. 

He’s done nothing but tease you with his devastatingly good looks, his overwhelming presence, and syrupy words spoken so sinfully in that low cadence of his voice, ever since he arrived. And, oh, you’re not sure whether to scream or kiss the smug look off his face silly.

You’re so bad at being subtle. You always have been, especially when it comes to him. And you know you can’t hide anything from Sylus – from the smallest flicker of microexpression on your face, down to the shortness of your breath. Both of you know this. Both of you painfully aware of the effect he has on you.

And just as much, you know he’s been holding himself back—that no matter how flirtatious he gets, he’s still keeping enough control to pull away whenever you start to get too overwhelmed.

Despite his provocations, Sylus never pushes. He waits, patiently. Giving you the space to volley back if you want to. And if you don’t, he backs off in a second, with the same effortless ease he uses to tease you. Leaving you room to breathe again. 

Rinse, repeat. 

It’s almost as if you two are playing a game with poorly drawn rules. You don’t know who’s winning.

The little spell breaks when you feel a disgruntled meow against your shin; it's immediately followed by a cat headbutting you, twice in succession, with a surprising amount of aggression.

"Not used to sharing your mother, are you?" Sylus sighs, pulling back from where he’d been caging you in—his movements slow, reluctant. 

A warning hiss rises from below. He raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping back to a safer distance, just out of swiping range. 

"Yes, yes. You win,” he grumbles in acquiescence at the testy feline, a comically put-upon look on his face. “For now.”  

You pull your eyes away from his bicep—look, you're just a girl, okay—to blink down at the temperamental little creature who’s now self-appointed himself as your personal foot guard. 

He’s making some vague, cryptic noises, something between a purr and a growl, while keeping his eyes locked firmly on Sylus’ leg. 

"He–um, he might just be hungry," you manage to mutter. A quick glance at the food bowl says otherwise. "...or not."

Sylus huffs under his breath, a low sound, equal parts understanding and mildly affronted. He tilts his head – eyes narrowing at the untouched kibble, then to the small furry menace claiming your feet like a jilted lover.

Unfortunately, Maru’s reception to the new person has been... less than cordial.

From the moment Sylus walked in the apartment, Maru had hissed at him as if to say: There is no reason for a Man to be here, before darting beneath the coffee table – tail lashing with all the theatrics of a petulant child. The churlish product of a mother who's been single for far too long, that he’s decided he’s the only boy she’ll ever need. 

It strikes you as a little odd. He never usually gets antsy around guests, and you'd even thought he and Sylus got along—or at least, back when the man in question was confined to mere pixels on screen. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have counted on that.

Sylus, to his credit, hasn't once tried to close the distance or force a peace treaty. Amused, definitely; the way his eyes glint whenever Maru glares at him could almost qualify as charmed. But since stepping into your home, he’s been mindful about giving the creature a wide berth, moving with the quiet understanding that respect here is sacrosanct, something to be earned. That he’s the one imposing, and the truce between him and the (true) man of the house is a fragile, delicate thing. 

You honestly haven’t decided if Maru’s behaviour is because he’s protective... or just pissed that someone else is hogging your attention.

"It’s alright, sweetie," Sylus—your son’s chosen rival—soothed you reassuringly; his hand rubbing a slow, comforting circle over the small of your back when he caught the slightly crestfallen look on your face. "He’s just feeling territorial about his space right now. Give it some time."

“I’ll get dressed,” Sylus murmurs. “Don’t start on the coffee without me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, then another between your brows; the casual, freely-given affection leaves you warm and gooey inside. He turns toward your vanity, where his black duffel bag rests on the small plastic saddle chair.

You watch his retreating figure for a few seconds—long enough for him to glance back over his shoulder, one brow lifted in lazy inquiry. And the look is so familiar; so painfully reminiscent of the one he gives you in-game, right after you’d deliver a ‘slap’ to his ass, that it knocks you a little off-kilter. 

… Which might explain why you don’t react fast enough when his eyes flash with mischief, and he casually undoes the knot of his towel.

The fabric drops.

You catch a glimpse—more than a glimpse, hello—of the perkiest butt you’ve ever seen in your life, and you spin around so fast you slam your elbow into something undoubtedly solid in the process.

A half-pained, half-mortified wheeze escapes your throat.

"Careful," he calls out to you—and though amusement colors his voice, there's a real thread of worry beneath it, enough to make you want to slam your head against the counter for some inexplicable reason. "Don’t feel the need to grant me modesty on my behalf, kitten."

"Kitten’s about to kill herself," you lament with a whine. 

It earns you an unimpressed scoff.

“I just got here, my love,” he deadpans without missing a beat. “Daddy’s gonna have to ask you to hold on a little longer.”

You choke on nothing but air. Critical system failure. 

Buffering… buffering… buffering…

You inhale sharply.

"Okay, pause," you beg, a slightly hysterical edge to your tone as you claw your way back from a full-blown breakdown. In an attempt to divert the topic, “D’you–uh, do you want anything on your eggs? I’ve got ketchup, hot sauce... barbecue sauce..."

"A proper chef now, are you?" And oh, the next thing you know, he’s right behind you again. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

He smells faintly like your body wash, like Dove nourishing coconut and your calendula shampoo, a heady mix of something sweet and herbal.

The thought of him—of the both of you—smelling the same, actually makes you feel giddy. 

What a stupidly trivial, novel thing to find joy in. 

Snap the fuck out of it, it’s just soap, you chide to yourself. 

You don’t even notice you’re trembling until Sylus curls a large hand around yours; steadying the shaky fingers reaching for the bottle of Cholula on the condiment tray, while his other hand gently cradles your hurt elbow. 

Your breath hitches when he presses a kiss to your temple.

"Oh, sweetie," he murmurs, and it’s the way he says it—low and unbearably fond—that loosens some of the tension on your shoulders. "You’ve wound yourself up."

"I'm good," you mumble, though your voice betrays you, thinner than you mean it to sound.

"It's just me," he says, his tone as gentle as the breeze slipping through the open window, ruffling the choppy bangs that frame your face. "Nothing so different from how it’s always been, hmm?"

And you know he’s right. It's just him. Just Sylus. Your Sylus. No different from the one from two years ago.

"I know," you sigh, finally turning to face him, having to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. 

His expression is softer now, the type of softness reserved solely for you, something that never fails to make you ache. The teasing is gone, tucked away for the time being. 

"I just need a little time to wrap my head around this," you admit, voice quieter now. "Is that... is that okay?"

The greys of his eyes melt into something silvery, moonlit—impossibly tender. 

In one smooth motion, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter and steps between your legs, closing what little space remains between you. You yelp in surprise, but before you can react, he’s already leaning in, stealing a kiss from your lips. Just a quick one, like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed a taste to hold him over. He chuckles when he sees your wide-eyed look.

"Of course, my love," he says, voice wrought with promise—in love with the way your lips part, bitten pink and unsure, as he lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it. "We’ll go as slow as you want. Forever, if that’s what you need." Forever, as what you two have. 

… 

For over a year, you’ve learned how to enjoy the small things alone. And you did—enjoy it, you mean. Once, almost a lifetime ago, you took for granted the quiet joys of a slower life. But you learned to take it day by day. One hour at a time, minute after minute. 

It made room for reflection, and it moulded you into something stronger, and softer, all at once.  

But this—with him—brings you back to another time. A sweeter time; the dog-day summer of your life. 

The morning hums with a kind of quiet normalcy you’ve grown accustomed to. You’re used to the sunlight spilling through the linen curtains, lining the floor with streaks of honey-gold, soft as a happy memory. Used to the noise of the outside world bleeding through the walls, a constant presence you’ve long since accepted as a permanent fixture in this tiny apartment, like a second heartbeat.

He’s right, in a way. 

This isn’t so different from the mornings you once shared with the same man—back when he wore a different face and led an extraordinarily polarized life, completely at odds with yours. The ones spent laughing into a screen, your fingers ghosting across glass, desperate to grasp something you never could. 

That life feels like it belonged to someone else now. Someone lonelier. 

So, no. Maybe not quite the same – maybe not even close.

–

You finally allow yourself to give in; to sink into the warmth of him, folding yourself smaller in his embrace like a tired bird nestling into a safer sky, your heart fluttering wild and restless against your ribs. Too big for your body, too full to contain. Here – tangled together in this sliver of morning light – everything that has hurt you feels small in comparison. You were never alone to begin with. But with Sylus in your arms, the world feels brighter than you ever remembered it could be.

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira @writingmyladsdelusions @borkunlimited @magnoliaswriteatsunset

[chocochiffonnn]

Dial Tragedy

➸ Pairing: Idol! Lee Heeseung x Fem! Reader

➸ Word Count: 1.5k

➸ Synopsis: Working an eight to five had you in the absence of your phone, and leaving you with a boyfriend spamming you like crazy with missed calls and messages.

➸ Warnings: Fluff, based on Heeseung's snippet on 'Dial Tragedy', a bit of kissing, the plot strays off a bit, not proofread.

➸ Author's Note: lol just a lil short release from my drafts guys! writer's block been hitting me like CRAZY. also, i refuse to believe her wouldn't call their partner this callsign lmao.

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SOMETHING ABOUT TODAY WAS STRESSFUL— dressed in piles of stress from the tedious workload, buried beneath documents and documents, all of which were due the following day.

The clock inside your lit apartment hit 7PM. Way past your official dismissal. Something you failed to realize as you left the building, simply too busy to get the hell out of there and sink into the comfort of your own couch.

So you do. You take off your feet-killing heels, removed your jacket, and practically threw yourself at the comfort of the soft mattress you’ve been dreaming of since morning.

Then you breath a long, heavy, tired sigh.

It was like a repeat. Paperworks, emails, calls, meetings, brand deals, eat, sleep, repeat. And when you get too tired the world keeps spinning and it tells you, no, it practically demands you to repeat the process you’ve grown accustomed.

You rolled your eyes, reaching towards your bag to open your phone which you had not touched since you left your apartment—

Five missed calls.

Twenty unopened message.

Fuck.

From all the the work and exhaustion you felt from today’s event, you forgot you had boyfriend. Something which you never usually forget so easily. You must’ve been worked to the bone to even let go of the thought that your boyfriend had been leaving you calls and messages.

He must have been worried sick.

Worries ebb your features as you hurriedly open your phone, only to be greeted by another incoming call by none other than the said man. You picked it up, and the first thing that you heard was his hoarse voice—

“… Angel?”

He whispered. You smile, opening your mouth for a brief moment then closing it again.

“Heeseung, baby?”

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls and messages?”

You sigh. As much as it made you sound mean, you do love it when your boyfriend is clingy. Usually, he rarely has time to do so given his schedule of practically touring the world. But then again, it was something that you had to get used to in the midst of your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I was bombared today at work. My boss kept nagging me about some documents that were due the following day. Ugh.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought of your stupid boss.

Heeseung sighs on the other end, “have you eaten yet?”

Smiling, you bit your bottom lip to suppress the chuckle that came along your way. Despite having every reason to be upset and perhaps stubborn, Heeseung had always been one to put others first before himself. A trait which you absolutely adored about him.

“Not yet, I didn’t touch my breakfast nor lunch today.”

“Okay, well… What are you doing now?”

“I’m sitting at my sofa. I can’t even move. Enough about me, what did you do today?”

On the other end, you heard a bit of shuffling. Heeseung grunts a little. “Takeout?”

“Hmm?”

“You like takout?”

“… Yes, why?”

He goes silent on the other end. Then, your doorbell rang. Though exhausted, you pushed yourself forward and looked through the peephole only to see none other than your boyfriend, standing there, a plastic bag in hand.

He spoke on the phone,

“I got you takeout, angel.”

The same words you heard from the other end of the door. With a gasp, you swiftly opened it. Heeseung stood in full view, dressed in a pair of hoodie and sweatpants, holding up your favorite takout with a smile. His hair was a bit disheveled, eyes a bit puffy from the lack of sleep.

“Heeseung?”

“Hi.”

He steps forward, grabs your waist with his unoccupied hand, and kissed your forehead gently. Warmth spread across your stomach as you felt the heat from his body spreading across yours.

“I thought you said you were in Japan for tour.” you mumble beneath him, Heeseung continued to press little kisses on your forehead.

“Mm. We got home earlier than planned. I guess you forgot to backread the message.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

He cuts you off, “it’s alright angel. Just missed you.”

Heeseung drags you a but forward, closing the door with his foot. All the while, he keeps your body close to his, not once letting go. For a minute, he stays there, and you slowly engulf your arms around his waist in a hug. Despite being pressed against his chest, Heeseung seemed comfortable with the way you were positioned.

“You’re oddly clingy today.” you muffle against his chest, he laughs, caressing your hair with his free hand. “Angel, I was worried sick. I’ve been trying to reach out since this morning, and you weren’t responding. I was performing with you at the back of my mind and everything.”

Heeseung pulls away from the hug, forming his lips into a thin line. His fingers reach out towards your cheek, squeezing it.

You groan. “Ow.”

“I can’t blame you, but I can’t help but be a bit upset, angel.”

Okay, maybe he was upset.

He plays around a bit, gently dragging your cheeks to the left, right, until eventually, Heeseung just squeezed both cheeks with one hand and kissed you abruptly. “You gotta tell me what’s up, yeah?”

You nod. Your job, perhaps in comparison to him, was much less of a loadwork. Answering calls, dealing with papers, and sitting in front of your desk for ten hours straight. While his consisted of constantly moving around, exerting his body to perform— though, Heeseung had never failed to keep you well aware of his whereabouts and things that’s been going on in his life.

“I’m sorry…” you pout, Heeseung’s little bambi eyes soften and sparkled a little. He couldn’t possibly stay mad nor upset with that face. So, he softened, smiled, and kissed you once more on those plump little lips.

“Let’s eat this takeout I got you, angel.”

“Okay…”

You weren’t budging, shoulders slumping slightly. You felt guilty, you really did.

Heeseung sighed, clasping his fingers with yours as he dragged you to your couch.

“C’mon angel. Don’t stress it out too much.”

Eventually, the two of you reach the sofa, Heeseung carefully sat you down, ignoring the mess of your belongings everywhere. He unwraps the takeout, taking the utensils and generously giving you a piece of the food.

“Aah.” He instructs, playing around a little making airplaine noises and gesture as you giggle at his little antics. You play along, mouthing an ‘o’ as he feeds you what felt like heaven beneath your tastebuds. Heeseung saw you jolt a little, nodding aggressively at the taste of the food.

“Good bite, angel.” he mumbles, prepping another bite for you to take. Occasions like these were rare for you, barely having the time to get your boyfriend all to yourself given his schedule. There were times where you’d wish he hadn’t become an idol at all, maybe settle for a job that’s less intense. But Heeseung didn’t work that way, and the both of you knew it. He thrived in the thrill of the industry. As for you? You supported him as much as you could, knowing performing had always made him happy.

“We had a little post-tour celebration today.” Heeseung brings up, giving you another bite of the food.

“With the members?”

He nods. “They’ve been asking me about us and our relationship.”

“What did you say?”

“And… I’ve been thinking, angel— is it alright if we make this known?”

“Make what known?”

Heeseung hesitates a bit, dropping down the fork and keeping his eyes glued to you. One of his hands find a way to crawl to yours, slowly intertwining them together. “Our relationship. I’ll announce it at our next tour.”

You felt your mind buzz at the thought. To make your relationship public would practically be comparable to throwing yourself inside a lion’s den. You’d be eaten alive. Heeseung would be eaten alive. The group would be eaten alive. Their company—

Heeseung lightly flicked your forehead with his finger.

“You’re overthinking it again, angel. I’ve talked to the manager and the members about it.”

“… What did they say?”

“They asked me if I was really sure about it, the manager even scolded me–”

You lightly pushed him in the chest, “Heeseung!”

“But we’ve talked about it thoroughly. Everything, I swear. This, and us. I don’t want to keep you in the shadows, angel. It’s unfair to you.”

Heeseung gently picked up your hand that he was holding, pecking your knuckles gently. His other hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“I’ve never felt that way, baby. Don’t worry about me.”

The way Heeseung’s eyes shift to concern make you soften a little. Always so kind and thoughtful.

“I want the world to know I have the prettiest girlfriend, though.”

He keeps your forehead close to his, the warmth off his body radiating to you in such a comfortable manner. It was like he always cradled you like a child, careful and considerate. It was practically second nature to him at this point.

“Is that okay, angel?”

He whispers, kissing you softly like it was the first time.

And when you nod slowly, giggling like a toddler, Heeseung simply cooed and cradled your cheeks.

“Okay. I’ll let the whole world know— that’s my girl.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs (teaser!)

update: this fic's been posted! click here to read <3

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au || crack, fluff, teensy bit of angst because a certain someone doesn't know how to communicate their feelings...

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── haii everyone it's been a long time coming...i've been having a MAJOR writer's block and also just kinda taking a break because work has been more tiring on my body so i've just been exhausted recently so i apologize for the lack of content,,,but WE'RE BACK! if anyone's ever watched backstreet rookie (it's my comfort show i love kim yoo-jung), i'm kinda going for those romcom vibes here hehe. this sneak peek isn't as revealing as my others,,,it's quite short but this one is gonna be a lil more rom-com mixed with eventual angst because what is heeseung if not a yearner?

send me an ask/comment if you'd like to be tagged !!! <3 (current tag list at end of post :D )

snippet under the cut!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and the same unimpressed, judgemental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spice and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help—” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

this made me crave ramen.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

<3, addie

current tag list: [bolded couldn't be tagged, sorry :( ]

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

[starsinthesky5]

ARCH. I need to know. I need to know your thoughts on reader pranking Joe with slamming the driver side door while he’s in it (the trend on tik tok) and seeing him get out of the car afterwards with this *yeah you’re in trouble face* and what he would do after

🤤🤤🤤🤤just give us a lil snippet of what would happen

yeah, you’re in trouble || joe burrow x reader

description: the ask pretty much sums it up ;)

a/n: wow? arch wrote a blurb? are pigs flying??? anyway, ignore how rushed this is i wrote this in 3 hours so if it sucks do not tell me ;)

also, YBWM is still coming soon! thanks for your patience my loves

word count: 3.2 k

warnings: language, smut, MDNI, usage of she/her and not you

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique @starkeyswomen @lilfreakjez @fourburrow

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

the past few months had been nothing short of long, disappointing, and so incredibly tiring for her and joe, and the effect it had on them was something they both frowned upon. they didn’t realize when it happened, but things just stopped becoming fun, everything felt so suffocating and serious, like things had to be perfect and there was no room for them to just exist. but now that it was peak off-season—hot, sunny, and the wind carried that carefree energy they craved—it was time for a vacation. a real vacation, just the two of them, with no games or cameras. joe was beyond exhausted by the lifeless Ohio scenery that he was constantly surrounded by, so when he proposed the idea of a road trip to sunny, gorgeous, Florida, she practically jumped at the chance. it would be just the two of them, the open road, and the freedom to relax, let go, and indulge in some much-needed downtime.

but of course, she couldn’t resist throwing in a little mischief and madness in the process. as they prepped for their trip, the playful teasing started innocently. she missed joe, missed him in a way that she couldn’t really say out loud. somewhere in the midst of the god-awful season, she felt like she lost that side of him—the side that was slightly intimidating, cocky, and heated. it was silly to say considering joe was known for being cooler than ice, but something about how he got when he had something bothering him, irking him to the point where he physically couldn’t take it, was hot. 

especially in the bedroom.

and she loved it. and she missed it.

she knew that this was supposed to be nice, cozy trip with her boyfriend, but something inside her wanted to see that side of him as soon as possible. and this trip felt like the perfect opportunity for her to act on it. so that’s exactly what she did. she knew just how to push his buttons, how to rile him up just enough for him to give her what she wanted. 

the chance presented itself about 30 minutes before they had to leave and hit the road, and she was fully prepared to be as bratty as she could be in order to crack him open and pull out that side she needed. that side that was irritated, considerate and soft as always, but irritated.

she'd keep running back and forth from the garage to his porsche in the driveway, swinging the door open to ask him questions and then follow-up questions about what else she needed to pack in the car before they left for their road trip to Destin, but after every one of his responses, she'd just slam the door right in his face to tease him. fun for her, but obnoxious to her soft, cuddly boyfriend who was as cool as frost. 

the first time she did it, he didn’t really care because he thought she was just in a rush or something, but then as he pulled out his phone to do some route mapping, she shuffled right back to the driver’s side and pulled the door open again only to repeat her previous actions. 

“babe, what sweatshirt did you say you wanted again? the pink nike one or your green bengals zip up?” she asked him, the smirk on her lips almost too suspicious which normally he���d notice, but right now he was in a completely different zone so he didn’t care enough to question it. 

joe didn’t look up from his phone as he was too focused on the route the navigation had mapped out, his brow furrowing at the fact that an extra four hours were added because it was taking you guys the longer way to avoid the summer storm hitting the middle of Tennessee. “uhh, the zip up,” he hummed, barely acknowledging her presence because he was currently in the middle of a war with google maps and his weather app. “fuckin’ 55% chance of rain in Nashville and we have to go through Memphis? why the hell–”. 

“BAM–,”. 

his body jolted in the driver’s seat at the sudden slam of the door, “jesus, what the fuck,” he grumbled, then moved his head forward to watch your silhouette scurry back into the house to grab his sweatshirt. “no way she just– again? what the hell was that?” he asked himself before the navigation spoke up and interrupted his thoughts. 

“warning: route to be determined, impending thunderstorm causing delays and detours along parts of Tennessee and southeast Appalachia”. 

“route to be determined? is this shit gonna reroute us halfway through fuckin’ Alabama now or something?” he scoffed while snapping his head back to the screen and forgetting about her odd behavior, now regretting the fact that he chose today out of all days to drive down to florida. he should know by now that the weathermen never lie, as much as he sought to disprove their wacky predictions. if the weather was calling for a storm as thunderous as paycor stadium on january 15th, 2022, then the storm was going to be just as thunderous, not a single bit less. he should’ve learned his lesson when he decided to drive them both to Columbus during a hail storm. his defense was that the meteorologist said possible hail storm, and you mocked him the entire car ride because possible means it will happen in weathermen-language. 

after grabbing his zip up, she ran back out to the car, once again yanking his driver’s side door open. she could sense he was getting aggravated with something, and fully knew that what she was doing was definitely getting on his nerves, but honestly? that was the fun part.

“here,” she said, throwing the hoodie into his lap, knowing that would piss him off a little more because she could’ve easily neatly folded it and placed it in the backseat along with the other loose items. 

he flinched from the sudden gust of that sticky hot summer air hitting his cool skin and at the feeling of his thick sweatshirt sprawl out against his partly bare legs. as he was tapping away on the screen, he wondered, was she being bratty on purpose, or was there a reason for her acting so out of character. she never did anything to get on his nerves, so either he did something and this was payback, or she was up to something herself. 

she saw his jaw clench the slightest, a surge of confidence hitting her because she knew she was pushing his buttons, bit before his lips parted, “so, you gonna apologize for slamming the door or…?”. 

she crossed her arms with a laugh, leaning forward just enough to press her lips against his smooth cheek, “sorry, baby. i didn’t know,” she lied, watching as he flexed his fingers and cursed under his breath at the navigation. to her, it was adorable how someone who can stay so calm in the most intense situations could get so aggravated by such minuscule things as a stupid robot voice and a car’s navigation. 

“it’s gonna take us a little longer to get down to Florida. the storm’s making us take the complicated way,” he sighed, clutching the hoodie in his lap before throwing it somewhere in the backseat. “my parents were right about us leaving yesterday instead. this is the one thing i hate about summer, the random ass monsoons that pop up out of nowhere,”. 

“aw, that sucks. i was looking forward to rolling the windows down when we got around Nashville. that breeze feels so good at night and i love watching the mountains pass by with my head out the window,” you pouted, pulling back and placing your hand on the top of the car door. “but anyway, i guess i should go grab the umbrella’s just in case,”. 

just as joe was about to respond, she backed away and slammed the door on him again.

“BAM–,”. 

this time, in the middle of their conversation—something he did not appreciate. 

“oh hell no,” joe said, reaching down to press the unbuckle button on his seatbelt so that he could follow her into the house and figure out what was going on with her, but just as he was doing so, she came right back. 

empty handed. 

she swung the door open again, taking the same stance as usual—one hand on top of the door and one resting against the car. “sorry, forgot to ask if you wanted me to grab those pumpkin balls from the fridge to snack on before we get to wendy’s,” she smiled innocently, batting her eyelashes at him like she didn’t do a damn thing.

joe blinked at her, speechless and in disbelief. what was she doing? they were just about to go on this lovely road trip together, just the two of them, and she was being so bratty for what exact reason? 

“you okay over there?” she giggled, “you look like you’re 2 seconds away from having a mental breakdown. don’t let the woman in the screen get to you, joey. she’s not real,” she added, resting her head against the side of the car as she looked down at him.

he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath to calm himself before saying, “babe, this is a porsche. my porsche. that door is gonna fall off the fuckin’ hinges if you keep doing that. i don’t know what’s up, but calm down for me? okay?” he shook his head, his attempt at hiding his irritation going poorly because of the fact that his ears were turning red and he had that look on his face. that look meant he was either a second away from cracking, or a second away from 

the very look she wanted to see. 

bingo. 

“sorry, joey,” she innocently chuckled. “it’s that new arm routine you built for me. i swear my muscles have never felt this strong and in-tact ever. it’s like i don’t know how strong i am myself anymore,”. 

bullshit. 

he helped her make that new arm workout routine 3 days ago. he was good, but not that good. 

“well, okay. just easy on her? you know this car was my dream,” he breathed out, tilting his head back to rest against the headrest as he looked back at that damn navigation that still said that your ETA would be 6:40 A.M. 

“okaaayy, diva. sorry for hurting your precious little baby,” she rolled your eyes, “won’t happen again,” she snickered before backing away, twisting her wrist, and slamming the car door again. 

joe’s eyes blew open and he swore he felt a bomb go off in the distance. “absolutely the fuck not? what the hell is wrong with her?” he groaned, reaching for the handle and swinging the door open with irritation, both his feet landing on the gravely driveway before he gently closed the door behind him. “sorry sweetheart,” he pouted, giving his porsche a gentle pat before snapping his head back to her. 

“where do you think you’re going?” he called out to her, and she paused in her path in an instant. a proud smile rising on her face due to the tone of his voice. irritated, aggravated, and oh so intimidating. 

she won.

she flipped back around, and the look on his face made a pang of arousal shoot straight down to her core. those butterflies started to flutter in her belly with wild abandon, and she couldn’t help those hormones from coursing through her veins every time she glanced at him and stared into his stormy blue eyes. 

this kind of joe made her horny as fuck. 

and then, it clicked for him. he knew why she was acting so bratty, purposefully ticking him off and acting innocent about it. her flushed cheeks, fidgety hands, and doe eyes gave that away real fast. 

neither of them spoke, partly because she didn’t know what to say and because he knew his silence was making it worse for her. “didn’t think it through, huh? wanted to rile me up but didn’t think about what to do after?” he said, eyeing her figure up and down as he moved closer to her. the way her shorts clung to her body, hugging her ass and sitting just below her naval and diamond belly-button piercing drove him wild now that he was getting a good look at her. her thin white cropped tank top did nothing to conceal the red, lacy bralette she had on underneath—a purposeful choice because she knew she’d be trapped in the car with him for hours. who knows, maybe he’d make an impromptu pitstop to a random grocery store’s parking lot at 2 am to…ahem…look for spare change in the backseat with her. oh, and how could he forget? 

that dainty gold 9 chain dangling between her breasts. 

too easy.

he raised his eyebrows…of course he was doing that god-for-saken eyebrow raise that made her even weaker in the knees to the point where she felt like she would collapse right then and there. “yeah, you’re in trouble now,” he smirked, launching forward and snaking an arm around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder, and then leading them back inside the house. 

“joey! the storm’s already gonna push us back a few hours, we can’t…not right now,” she protested, but barely put any effort in because deep down, she wanted this bad. 

“shoulda thought of that before you walked out looking like a snack and got me worked up like this, baby,” he shrugged, his hand gently smacking her ass as he placed her back down on the ground, backing her against the foyer table. 

joe's patience was a thin, a stretched thread, and she had been tugging on it all afternoon. the way she kept slamming the door, the innocent looks, her outfit, the little smirk playing on her lips—it was all a game to her. but now, standing in the dimly lit foyer with his hands gripping her hips, joe had decided it was his turn to play.

his eyes darkened as he leaned in, “you wanted my attention, baby?” his fingers traced slow, teasing circles against her smooth waist, sending a shiver down her spine. “well, now you have it,”.

she swallowed hard, feeling the heat radiate from his body as he stepped closer, trapping her between him and the cool surface of the foyer table. the contrast sent a thrill through her body, making her breath hitch. “joey, i—,”.

“shh,” his thumb brushed over her lips, silencing whatever excuse she was about to make. “you’ve been running that mouth all day. think it’s time you find a better use for it,”.

the way he was looking at her, with that mix of amusement and raw need, had her thighs pressing together involuntarily. joe smirked, noticing. “oh? what’s wrong? weren’t so shy when you were slamming my door like it was your full-time job,”.

her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her palms. “i was just messing with you,” she tried, faking innocence yet again, but the way her voice wavered gave her away.

“yeah? well, now i’m messing with you,” his lips brushed against her jaw, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the curve of her neck. she tilted her head back, giving him more access as his hands slid lower, gripping the tops of her thighs and hoisting her up onto the table effortlessly. the movement pulled a gasp from her lips, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

his lips ghosted over her ear, his voice laced with something intense, something she awakened within him. “let's see if you're still feeling bold after i'm done with you,”.

her breath hitched as his fingers slowly dragged up her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of her shorts. he watched her every reaction with hooded eyes, the smug grin on his face growing as he felt her tremble beneath his touch.

“already shaking, baby?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “we haven’t even started yet,”. his hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him as his lips returned to her throat, sucking and biting just enough to leave a pretty purple mark. another great accessory to go with her outfit. she squirmed in his hold, hands fisting in his shirt as heat pooled low in her stomach.

“joe,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but he caught it. he always did. and it only made his smirk deepen.

“that’s right, baby,” he hummed, his hands slipping beneath the thin fabric of her top, fingers grazing over her bare skin. “now be good for me and hold on tight,”.

he didn't waste another second. with one fluid motion, he yanked her shorts and dampened panties down, leaving her exposed and vulnerable beneath his heated gaze. his fingers trailed along her inner thigh, teasing, ghosting over where she needed him most before pulling away just to hear her frustrated whimper. “so impatient,”  he chuckled darkly. “but you wanted to push me, didn't you?” his hands gripped her thighs as he positioned himself, then quickly removed his shorts and boxers before dragging the thick head of his cock through her slick folds, teasing her until her hips bucked forward in desperation.

as much as he would’ve loved to drag it out, his restraint snapped at the sight of her need, her desperation. he pushed forward, stretching her out inch by inch until he bottomed out, a low groan ripping from his throat at the way she clenched around him. he didn't give her time to adjust, didn't let her catch her breath—he set a brutal pace, fucking her hard and fast, his grip on her hips bruising as he pulled her against him with every deep thrust.

“this what you wanted?” he growled, voice rough as he pounded into her slick heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the foyer. “wanted to get me all worked up so i'd fuck you like this?”. 

her nails raked down his back, legs tightening around his waist as she gasped his name over and over, her body arching into him, completely at his mercy. he was relentless, each thrust hitting deep, pulling desperate moans from her lips. “oh, j- joe. f- fuck baby i’m so…,” she whined, losing herself in him. 

joe buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath was ragged as he whispered, “horny? well, i’m sure you’d be happy to hear that i am too,” his pace never faltered, his grip tightening, his movements rough, possessive, claiming every inch of her.

it didn't take long before the pleasure became overwhelming, her body trembling beneath him as he fucked her harder, deeper, his hands splayed over her stomach. he pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto the way his cock bulged beneath her pierced navel, her skin stretching to accommodate his thick length. his jaw clenched at the sight, a throaty moan tearing from his lips. “fuck, baby,” he groaned, his thumb tracing over the outline of himself pressing through her belly. “look at that. you take me so fuckin' well,”.

the sensation sent her over the edge, her walls clenching around him as she cried out his name, body squirming beneath him as pleasure crashed over her in waves. joe wasn't far behind, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release, his hand splaying her stomach once more to feel himself buried deep inside her. 

“come for me, baby” he commanded, his voice thick with lust, and the moment his fingers found her clit, she shattered all over again. “oh, ooh…fuck,” she moaned, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm shoot up her spine. that was all it took—joe groaned, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside her, his head falling against her shoulder as he let out a shaky breath.

"god, joe...i- i can't feel anything," she said with a breathy chuckle.

“next time,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he pressed lazy kisses along her jaw, “maybe you'll think twice before testing me,”.

"maybe...but it was worth it in the end. i missed you, annoyed, irritated, and slightly intimidating joey b," she chuckled as her body shook against him.

joe rolled his eyes before pressing his lips against hers, nipping and sucking at her lip like he had been famished for far too long. the fact that even his kisses were hungry again was enough for her.

"well, he's back and he's about to be a menace this week so get ready, baby,".

--the end--