#short lil snippet for these two

[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👀

[bitchslapblastoids]

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

[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

[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--

[jinxyvvrites]

-- morning after

Warnings:

writers own interpretation of Steve Harrington, extreme fluff, post sexual encounter.. kissing / cuddling, that's about it. Reader is female and a roommate of Steve's. If anything I'm warning you about is gonna get your panties twisted, maybe don't read?

Word Count:

615 ... this is just a short lil blurb to wrap up do not disturb, fyi.

Pairing:

Steve Harrington x Roommate!Female reader.

Snippet:

He can't move because you're practically on top of him, you have been for hours, but even if he could move he wouldn't.

The rise and fall of your chest, those quiet little snores are just starting to lull him back to sleep when he hears the door to the apartment creak slowly.

Seconds later, Robin leans in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear as soon as she sees you in Steve's bed and puts two and two together.

“Did you guys finally crack?”

Steve grins and its sleepy. Followed close by a yawn as he nods.

The rain is softer now, a constant pitter-patter against the window as bleak sunshine begins to leak in through the edges of the blanket Steve has tacked over his window.

He can't move because you're practically on top of him, you have been for hours, but even if he could move he wouldn't.

The rise and fall of your chest, those quiet little snores are just starting to lull him back to sleep when he hears the door to the apartment creak slowly.

Seconds later, Robin leans in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear as soon as she sees you in Steve's bed and puts two and two together.

“Did you guys finally crack?”

Steve grins and its sleepy. Followed close by a yawn as he nods.

Robin can just look at him and tell that maybe this time its real and it'll last. After all, she was around to witness your crush on Steve the first time around, first-hand.

You're just starting to wake up but its early and his body is big, all soft muscles and warmth and you just don't want to let go. You trace a line up and down his chest and he presses dry lips against your forehead.

“I haven't slept that good in a really long time,” you admit through a yawn in a whisper quiet voice. Steve nods in agreement because he hasn't, either. 

“Are you hungry or anything?”

“Uh uh. I don't want you to move.”

“Okay, I wont.” He promises with soft and husky laughter.

He shifts you around a little and the whine hes met with is just so cute he can't help but stare down at you, pepper your face in sleepy kisses. Kisses met with enthusiasm and pleading for more.

If I wasn't already a hopeless idiot, he thinks, oh boy would I be so royally fucked right now.

Your stomachs are growling. He looks down at you already starting to doze off again and snickers quietly. “Okay, as much as I swear I don't wanna move, princess..” he frowns at the prospect of prying himself away from your soft and warm little body, “We need food.”

“I'm totally fine.” you insist, pouting when he starts to move around again, sitting up with you in his lap.

“Hey..” soft bribing kisses fall against your messy hair, “what if I carry you, hm?”

You bite your bottom lip. Pouting for a second before giving a nod. “Okay, fiiine.”

He slips out of bed, you're hanging onto him as tight as you can as he makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen where Robin sits at the table, smearing cream cheese on a blueberry bagel.

You're sat on the counter and before he pries himself away to gather what he needs to make you both something to eat, he pecks you softly on your forehead. You pout and slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a real kiss.

Robin smiles to herself at the sight of it, grinning at the two of you. “So..” she looks from you to Steve and back again, “does this mean Nance and I can finally have time to ourselves?”

Steve flips her off but he's laughing as he nods yes. You’re as red as the strawberries that sit on the counter beside you but you smile at her and nod too. 

“Good. I'm gonna go crash.” Robin excuses herself, putting her purple coffee mug into one side of the sink. You lean against Steve, smiling as the sound of his heartbeat lulls you.

As far as he's concerned, the day is perfect.

And hopefully, Steve thinks, this is just the beginning.

[contamination-zone]

Happy birthday Fresh! Every year I giggle about how much he'd hate people celebrating it today, and not on april first.

Short fic snippet [570 words] I wrote under cut or on AO3 [link]

CB had been mulling over words of one of his best friends [of which he had many] all evening. Blue said that today, April 20th, was Fresh’s birthday when he dropped by. [Always when Fresh was away; he’s pretty sure Blue doesn’t like him very much.]

He didn’t know how much he believed that, because a little under three weeks ago they’d celebrated Fresh’s birthday already. It would be really unfair if he got Two birthdays, in CB’s humble opinion. But… Blue hadn’t ever lied to him, at least, not that he could remember. And it was good to trust your friends at their word, Fresh told him that all the time.

He kicked at the floor, watching as rocks skidded away. It didn't really matter, he decided. He'd celebrate Fresh’s other birthday with as much gusto as his normal one, cus even if it wasn't really his birthday, it was another excuse to have fun. Another example of how much of a good friend he was. He grinned at the idea.

A quick glance at his phone showed it was almost time for Fresh to get back, so he ran back to where they’d been when he left. On cue, there was an explosion of magic saturated fog, a Fresh Poof! With it, the sound of his best friend’s voice calling out, “I’m back, lil dude!”

CB rushed at him, before the other had even slowed down on his heelys. “Fresh!” He yelled, slamming into its middle and wrapping his arms around it.

“Wouh!” Fresh exclaimed, hands [which were almost hesitant, but that would be absurd. Hesitant and Fresh were words that don’t belong together] settling over CB’s shoulders- they were big, so it felt almost like he was hugging back. “What’s the occasion, Stripes?”

CB didn’t even fight it on the nickname, just looking up at him with a big smile, “It’s a birthday hug!”

For some reason, Fresh got a weird look on his face at that. Words CB didn't quite catch flashing over his glasses before he fell to his knees, hands still on his shoulders– something he did when he wanted to talk to CB more face-to-face. His best friend must be super moved by his ultra-cool birthday hug!

Instead of some profuse thanks, Fresh gave him a more serious expression. “It’s April 20th, who told you it was my birthday?” He didn’t say it wasn’t, but he did seem a bit grumpy, maybe because he was embarrassed he had two?

“Blue did!” He chirped, which made Fresh groan, his head falling forward until it rested on CB’s shoulders. He wrapped his arms around its skull in a hug, not really used to being the one to comfort Fresh. “Do you not like your birthday…? I think its pretty cool you have two.”

“Thanks lil man.” Was its response, the hold on his shoulders tightening until Fresh pulled him into a fuller hug, making CB fall into his lap. He squeaked, arms flailing a bit as Fresh got more comfortable on the ground with him, “I guess having two is pretty rad, huh? Twice the celebration.”

There was a smile in his voice, and CB grinned. “Does that mean we get more cake? And get to prank your friends some more?”

“We only did that cus it was April First, Stripes,” he laughed.

“Yeah! Your birthday!”

For some reason, that just made Fresh laugh even harder.

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now- Mafia Gojo part two Preview/snippet

It's HERE

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

CW: Sexual tension, hurt/comfort- gonna be angsty chap for our reader she's a lil bit of a mess, Toru gonna take care of her dw

“What fucking happened!? Can you just share your location?” Satoru’s already desperate as he slips into his car, his driver waiting for his orders.

“You can’t see me like this.” You whisper miserably, sipping more of the cheap wine. “I am a fucking wreck, please don’t.”

“Do you live far from the bar?”

“No…”

“Then let me come see you.”

“Why?” You whisper, and he exhales, heart pounding as he hears it, the pain in your voice.

“I just want to see you. Please?” You sigh then, and he hears a ding, as you share your location.

“I’m telling you, I’m not good company right now.”

“I’m on my way.” As he hangs up, you take shaky hands, struggling as you go to the mirror, swiping at the pesky mascara trails from work makeup that’s been on for hours. You try to put yourself together, taking down your hair clip, letting it fall and frame your face, cheeks flushed, eyes puffy from tears.

When Satoru gets there, half your cheap bottle is down your throat, and you’re just a little wobbly as you open your door, Satoru presses you inside then, shutting the door quickly, your back against the cool wood. His hand cups your face, brushing over your heated skin, as you look up at him, like some fucking dream in the night, you take several breaths, just standing there.

“Shit, you are the prettiest mess I’ve seen.” He murmurs then, and you giggle through a fresh onslaught of tears, your hands trailing up his chest.

“You’re like the only good fucking thing right now, I know that’s too much. We just met… I know I sound insane.” Satoru shakes his head, leaning lower. “I’m going to scare you with all my baggage.”

“Can’t scare me, baby girl.” He murmurs, leaning even closer, tasting the wine on your breath, sighing. “Having a party?”

“A pity fucking party.” He laughs softly with you again, this stranger damn near gets you just looking at you, just standing here. Your body relaxes, your heart thrumming in your chest.

“Think I haven’t had a pity party?” His eyes are glimmering, so beautiful you fall into them then, hands trailing down his chest, lower, watching his snowy lashes flutter, his lips part.

“Want the long version or the short?” You whisper, and Satoru tilts his head, hands now trailing down the nip of your waist, still in your little work dress, and god you do look so sexy in it.

“We have a couple hours, and I have a driver, why don’t we just…” His big hands unbuckle the belt at your waist. “Relax, hmm?”

“Yeah, you want my cheap ass wine Mr. Gojo?” You tease, he smirks then, nodding.

“Show me what you have, think I’m bougie?”

“Sure do.” You giggle then, noses touching before you press your lips against his, and it takes everything in him not to just fuck you right on your door, to hold himself back and just let you flow, to be what you need. He kisses you though, so deeply, lapping at your lower lip, swollen from you biting it so much, a hand enwrapped in your loose hair.

“God, the cheap wine tastes good on you.” He says, and you sigh, pressing a kiss on his pointy chin. “Wanna get out of this work suit? Sexy as it is.”

“You want me undressed, huh?”

“What do you think?” Satoru presses against you, and you feel him, hot and hard against your tummy, making you gulp and tremble.

“I think you’re too perfect.”

“Pshh, me? You haven’t gotten to know all of me yet.”

“I want to. Shit, I-”

Satoru slams his lips on yours again, a hungrier kiss now, sliding the little houndstooth pattern blazer right off your shoulders, tongue slipping into your mouth deeper. “I wanna know you too.”

Perm tags- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays  @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @tojicvmslut @cvixmei @mutsu422 @g00seg1rl @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @suki91 @aldebrana @strychnynegirl @jinjen

[milktrician]

Hello hello! :D

SQH-SY siblings au for the ask game, please?

I'm pretty sure I wrote this after someone wrote a text post about the idea but idk if I would be able to track that down, or if it existed at all and I'm misremembering. Anyway, I didn't really have a set plot in mind after I wrote this short snippet other than it would be very funny for Shen Yuan to try and actively sabotague Shang Qinghua's efforts to become head disciple of An Ding while looking as innocent as possible. I don't think I'm going to write anymore for this idea as I have other wips I want to focus on but feel free anyone to write out their own interpretation! Anyways, here's what I wrote a few weeks back:

[ Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered ]

What? What the fuck is this?

[ Host is in the midst of transmigration! ]

No—what? This is a dream, Airplane’s stupid fucking writing must have made me pass out!

Rrgh! I need to punch the fucker IRL!

[ Host would like to see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky? ]

YES!

[ Beginning transmigration… ]

What?

“Oh! It’s a boy!”

“W-Wait what? Doctor, didn’t you say it was going to be a girl?”

What the hell?

He feels himself get wrapped within a cloth, and suddenly he's enveloped in warmth. He’s being…held?

Any attempt to move his limbs is caught by the cloth wrapped around him. His tongue presses against toothless gums, and his vision is too blurry to make out anything.

No…

“Haha, well surprises always happen! Did you have a name in mind if you two had another son?”

“Ah, well I suppose we never gave any thought to it. A-Yu, you’re always good at coming up with names with your little stories, how about you name your little brother?”

No…

“You…ah, shouldn’t it be up to you two? Like erm. Tradition or something? Like this is a whole baby I sh-shouldn’t be responsible for the name he’ll be called for the rest of his life!”

A woman then laughs above him, 

“A-Yu, I think I’m much too tired to think right now. You’re a smart boy, any name you come up with I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He…died. 

Transmigration’s real!?

AND HE’S A BABY!

Oh—whoever this person is, please don’t name him something stupid.

[ Don’t worry Host! This System has you covered! ]

“…Yuan?” Whoever “A-Yu” is, he said that like he wasn’t even sure of it himself! Thank god he still has his old name in this life at least.

“Shang Yuan…I like that.”

System…where have I transmigrated?

[ This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance to your wish, ‘see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ ]

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ]

What now?!

[ User has completed his wish! ]

I…did?

[ Entering Limited Sandbox Mode! Feel free to explore within the constraints of the plot! ]

[ We hope you enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! ]

WHAT?

“Ah! He’s crying, give him here.”

“Ahh. You’re so cute lil bro! Cutest baby in the whole wide world!”

A-Yu, or Shang Hongyu, is his new older brother in this life and is maybe eight or nine years older than him. He’s apparently very smart for his age, and their parents are already tutoring him to take over their father’s business.

He hears his older brother sniffle,

“Too bad you’ll probably never see me again in a few years.” he says, “I’ve gotta head to Cang Qiong and make my way up An Ding in the next few years.”

Hold on a second.

His older brother holds him tight against his chest, and from here he can feel his breath shudder.

“I’ve never had a sibling by blood before.”

He’s brought to his sibling’s bed and his brother lays next to him lazily.

“Just a few more years and you guys won’t have to see me again.” his brother says to noone, “They’re…surprisingly good parents, didi. Once they don’t have me to worry about, they can spoil you as much as you want.”

Geez, what kind of weird complex do you have?

Though. Shang surely is a common surname right? Lots of Shangs to go to An Ding!

System where in the timeline are we?

[ System is currently in maintenance for future updates! ]

Fine. He’ll figure it out his own way!

His own chubby fingers are able to grab onto his brother’s robe.

“Gege.” He says, to the best of his ability with his shitty little baby mouth.

He doesn’t expect his brother to burst out crying and start to hug him tight.

[itzkatflixs]

SUMMER ON YOU -prettymuch

megan and yn are your average college students, broke and working multiple jobs. yet the two of you always end up happy no matter what, because your love for each other means more than the shit you two go though day to day. short snippets of your weeks spent together during the summer holidays.

We don't care if we are broke

When love is all we own

“bye baby! ill be back by 6 okay? ill grab some drinks otw home but the cheap ones… my boss hasnt sent me my paycheck yet” megan whines as she kisses your cheek before she heads out for work. you giggle, kissing her lil pout that formed and sent her out the door as you too get ready for your next shift. after an hour, you rush out, realizing that you were going to be late if you delayed any longer. snapping a selfie while walking, you sent it to megan, telling her you were on your way to work and couldnt wait to see her after.

you sigh heavily, the shift had drained your energy all because of some woman who decided she was entitled enough to treat you like shit. slipping on your headphones, you step out of the cafe and was met with a sudden shower. you laugh, feeling the rain fall onto you, drop by drop evaporating the tension youve been feeling since earlier.

meanwhile, megan was at the store picking up some drinks and snacks as she promised. she looks out, immediately brightening as she sees you cutely skipping in the puddles that were forming from the rain. she hurriedly puts down the basket, snapping a quick picture of you before opening the storefront’s door and calling out to you.

you whip around hearing you girlfriends voice from behind. you smile, running towards her and engulfing her into a tight hug as you pull her into the rain. megan smiles down at you, kissing your temples once you released her from the hug. you pout exaggeratedly, whining that the kisses werent enough. megan shakes her head at your shenanigans while grinning, giving a longing kiss on your lips.

“there you go my love, that good for now?” she asked as she takes your hand to pull you into the shop. you kiss her one more time before you let go of her, immediately racing to the candy aisle to grab some of your favorite candies. megan calls you, letting you know she already took your candies and was now selecting drinks. you croon out a thank you my savior while you cling to her and pecked her knuckles lightly.

the two of you shortly reach home, immediately plopping yourself on the couch as megan puts back the items. once she was done, you reach out for her, opening your arms wide as she sat down on your lap while holding two cans. you kiss her neck softly, mumbling your thanks as you take the can from her. as the night goes on, you two slowly fall asleep in each others arms, knowing that you wouldnt change a thing to be holed up a small apartment with the love of your life even though you two didnt have much.

I love it when you play with my hair

You know it feels so nice

you step out of the car, breathing in the salty winds whipping up a frenzy of your hair. megan appears next to you, tucking your stray hairs as she places a soft kiss on your cheek. the moon was shinning so brightly as the two of you made your way down to the sand. megan sets up the blanket as you skip around in the sand feeling the cooling breeze around you. as she looks over, she smiles softly, not having seen you this carefree in a while due to the extra job you took on to cover rent. megan calls you over to eat once she finished setting up the blanket and food.

“thank you loveee here have a biteee!” you cooed, lifting a spoonful of chicken rice that you cooked earlier to her mouth. megan opens wide as you feed her, eyes lighting up as she chews slowly, savoring it. she puffed up her cheeks full of food, trying to smile at you. you giggle at her antics, poking her cheek as she gestures wildly at you then the chicken rice then you again.

the two of you sit there eating as the night deepens and becomes cooler. shivering, you snuggle up to megan, who was playing with your hair, mindlessly twirling, shifting and combing through your hair. you hum quietly, enjoying the way she played with your hair. you look up to her, showcasing your puppy eyes before asking for more pieces of candy. megan refuses, knowing you would not be able to fall asleep if you had anymore.

“awhhh pweaseee darlinggg just one more?” you stick your lower lip out, batting your eyelashes as you twirl a strand of her hair. megan visibly falters for one second before shaking her head again. you try again, now become more exaggerated than before and yet megan was still not giving in. as a final resort, you kiss her deeply and grabbed the bag from behind her. you run from her as you gobble up the rest of the candies, laughing maniacally.

megans jaw dropped, surprised at the length you went just to eat the candies. she shoots up and start chasing you as you taunt her jokingly. once she caught you, she scoops you up bridal style, giggling as she hears you scream. she trudges back to the blanket, dropping you unceremoniously, before laying next to you. you rest your head on her shoulder, dropping a kiss there. she smiles softly, once again tangling her hands into your hair. you sigh softly, feeling her fingers starting to lightly massage your scalp.

as the two of you drift off slowly to sleep, you mumble out a i love you to megan thinking how lucky you were to get a lover as loving, hardworking and attentive as her. letting out a contented sigh, you knew you, you would love her till the end of time.

an: not me whipping out almost 1k in an hr when it took me months to write 800 for a graded sch essay :\

[felassan]

Some things in BioWare's transcript of the August 30th dev Discord Q&A are a lil different to what was actually said in the Q&A. not only editing to tidy up and be concise etc; some of it seems to actually be new/additional (or updated?) information. this post is just a quick summary of the new or different things I noticed when comparing the BioWare transcript to a word-for-word transcript (or at least the ones that stood out to me anyways). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

This post is a mix of new snippets and rephrased answers to things that were rephrased in a way that stuck out to me or interested me. nb, it doesn't highlight changes if the change was something not being included in the BioWare transcript (there was some of that too).

John Epler: "I don't know if any of [the Evanuris] consider [tea] a favorite beverage"

[re: hugging Assan] Assan "always appreciates the attention. He's got a sharp beak and he'd let you know if he didn't."

Variation of the WEWH question answer:

"There's always going to be politics to some degree - there are a number of different groups with different priorities, and not all of them are going to be immediately disposed towards trusting you. But while the Inquisitor had an organization and an army (and even Hawke and the Hero of Ferelden spent more time moving in political circles), Rook's situation is a little more desperate and immediate. Their approach is therefore a little more direct, and so while they may occasionally find themselves in the political sphere, they're not trying to assemble an army or build consensus amongst nation states."

[on companions' ages] The part of this where they described the companions' age range has been changed from where it said "early-mid twenties" to just say "mid twenties". Also, Taash was said to be "early twenties"; she is now simply "the youngest".

New sentence on the ages: "We don't usually nail down a specific age, unless it's something that comes up in their content, but we want to have an idea as to their general age range as we're writing them."

If no side characters stand out as a good candidate for a 'light' romance, this is never something they want to force

Griffons as half-bird half-lion - it now reads half-eagle half-lion

"Thedas has always been filled with extraordinary people, and in DATV you're trying to save the world. It stands to reason that the people you're bringing on board are going to be people with extraordinary circumstances of their own."

On the Veil not being in great shape and having been deteriorating in recent times/the intervening period between games, a more specific figure is given: "things in general have been slowly getting worse over the past decade and a half"

Lucanis and Bellara find out they have a lot in common and develop a "really fun" friendship, even though "it's hard to think of two companions who feel more different on the surface"

Neve and Bellara's friendship "kind of evolved organically as we were writing them, and finding out all the opportunities we could to throw little tastes of it into dialogue was a blast"

when enemies are slowed due to Slow Time, Rook stays moving at full speed

Rook's weapons and companions' gear can also be transmogged in addition to Rook's armor gear and casualwear

New sentence: "I've built Harding as a Support Character one run, and a DPS the next run. If you want to use Davrin as a DPS, you can do that."

"But each Companion has a gift that you can purchase from vendors in the world, and then give it to them." - it sounds like there is only one unique gift that you can give to the companions each?

"In general, something like a short story anthology is a volunteer thing - we ask people what they want to write and, generally, people tend to gravitate towards character ideas and concepts they already had in mind for a companion."

"So it's rare that we write a character that isn't intended to be a companion and then think 'oh wow this character would be a great fit', but it's not unheard of either."

"Ultimately we wanted to be sure that The Veilguard could be a good entry point to Dragon Age for new players and people who know almost nothing about the universe. But if you're the kind of player who wants to catch the most references, I'd suggest reading The Missing (most recent comic series) and Tevinter Nights. The former is a direct narrative setup for the beginning of the game" while Tevinter Nights is "less of a direct narrative tie", though it introduces "characters, concepts and story elements" that show up in the game

New sentence and info: [John Epler] "The Archon's Palace floating was something we came up with midway through writing Tevinter Nights and I had to furiously rewrite a few things." - the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace?

"Mae is a character that means a lot to so many DA fans" (<3)

Crow politics are now described as "complex" as well as deadly

"Some romances allow you to express interest without 'committing'" - so it sounds like not all of them allow this? - "but all romances eventually end up being exclusive"

"With each specialization we wanted to explore, both visually and through gameplay, what a specific class member of that faction might look like. Spellblade, for example, is our answer to the question 'what does a mage assassin look like'."

Our ability to save PCs so we don't have to start from scratch in CC each time was very important to the devs

"the feeling we want to evoke over the course of the game is one of growth, both in yourself as Rook and in your companions as they overcome their own problems with your help. These problems are often external in nature, but they are always tied, at their core, to the conflict that the character carries within them. And they are, also, always uniquely Dragon Age problems on the surface, but still relatable."

The difference in the answer to the is Lucanis possessed question interested me.

Original for the sake of comparison:

"So, again, spoilers, everyone has been warned, fairly warned. So Lucanis Dellamorte is also known as The Demon of Vyrantium. And, he has spent a lot of time killing Venatori, who are mages, and who do know a lot about demons, so. Yeah, somebody decided that it might be a good idea to make that nickname stick."

New:

"There's definitely something going on with Lucanis - and before you hired him, he was known as the Demon of Vyrantium. Might be that someone took offense to that nickname, especially since he earned it by killing Venatori."

New sentence in the answer to the is Thedas a southern continent question:

"Of course, nothing says that distance to the sun is the only factor impacting weather."

.. [probably reading too much into this don't look at me ik many factors influence weather irl hhh] magic? the Veil? the deteriorating Veil? the risen Gods? the Blight? Thedas is experiencing global warming? :D

"As part of our attempt to make the companions feel like they have their own lives outside of just Rook, we asked ourselves what pairings made the most narrative sense and then talked about how they might actually unfold in the game. And even before companions get together, you can see that interest starts to develop. Which is, I think, one of my favorite things about the companions. They don't just fall in love with each other, they become friends, confidents, and even rivals at times"

It takes Davrin a while to trust others. He can be a little standoffish, but eventually he warms up to anyone who shows that they have his back

As a monster hunter a lot of Davrin's hobbies revolve around that

"a lot of elves go around shoeless, and that's in part because they believe it brings them closer to nature. What better way to understand what the world and ground are saying than to walk directly on it? but not every Dalish follows this custom" [...] "The Veil Jumpers, in general, are a little more likely to wear boots and shoes, as they're far more likely to end up in dangerous places and fighting unsettling creatures than the average Dalish"

On Bellara's boots: "you never know when you're going to find a broken artifact with a lot of sharp edges."

Bellara is a big fan of pan-frying anything she can (re: food)

Lucanis has the refined palate of an Antivan Crow

Getting the beards to work with all the armor variations that they have was especially challenging with dwarves because they "tend to be" shorter

Those beards that were designed with dwarves in mind can alsobe used for humans and qunari (I wonder then if elves cannot have beards in CC? Like I know they usually don't have them or have it in CC and that lore says they don't but there are a also a few lorebreaking instances of it and I wasn't sure which way this one would go given how 'free choice/options for all' the CC in this game has sounded like it has been designed to be)

"You'll see more on this as we showcase character creator in our runup to launch"

For this question "Since you can choose to be a part of the same faction for most of the companions, will that give you an advantage when trying to befriend them?", the answer now reads that in addition to the unique dialogue same-background Rooks have with the companion of that background, it can also "change the timbre of your relationship a little bit"

John Epler: "one of my favorite things about this group of companions is how much time they spend with each other"

[on the companions] "They're a family, and like a family, they don't always get along"

"A lot of Solas' relationship with the player is personal. He sees a lot of himself in Rook - both the good and the bad - and largely talks only to you, as you're the one he has a connection with."

"Not to mention at least a couple of followers who would likely love to ask an ancient Elven god some questions."

"a common complaint we've heard in past games is that many players disliked always feeling like they needed a Rogue to be able to lockpick, so fortunately Rook finds a method to use these exploration abilities even when the associated Companion is not in your party"

An example of a companion's unique exploration ability is that Emmrich has an ability to briefly reanimate skeletons to open gates

Qunari not wearing helmets and only vitaar allows more flexibility when it comes to horns customization in CC

"yes - there will be some pretty obvious Act breaks. Not all content fits neatly into these buckets, as it's more a way of breaking up the critical path (companion and other side content follows a different cadence), but there are some pretty obvious Acts built into our game. A lot of the missions, though, we want to make sure players have the freedom to decide what they do and when they do it, so while they may have internal acts (follower missions form their own arcs), they don't conform to the overall main quest arcs"

The difference in the answer to the is Assan the only griffon question confirms that Assan was specifically one of the baby griffons that hatched at the end of Last Flight. (as opposed to another clutch that was laid in the last decade)

Old:

"So, again, just to be clear, spoilers, but yeah, Assan has brothers and sisters, so Assan is not the only griffon that shows up in Dragon Age The Veilguard."

New:

"If you read Last Flight, you'll know that Assan isn't the only griffon from that clutch of eggs, so he's got brothers and sisters. And if one griffon is good, a whole family of them is better, right?"

"We briefly experimented with other options for last names but it became unwieldy as we do refer to your Rook by their last name on several occasions, and accounting for 6 potential last names is already a lot of complexity."

Variation of the 'what goes into bringing back old characters' question answer:

"We always - both for Morrigan and any other characters we bring back - think about what they would've been up to since the last time anyone saw them. These characters should feel like real people, and the last thing we want to imply is that their stories stalled out while they weren't directly in the player's adventuring party. So we look at their arc before the time skip, and then think about where that arc would've taken them. In the case of Morrigan, she's coming to terms with a lot of truths about herself and about her mother. There are elements of her past that she's come to terms with, which is why she wears a version of Flemeth's crown. Ultimately you want the world to feel like it's real. And no one's the same person today that they were 10 years ago. That's stagnation, and it's bad in fictional characters as it is in real people."

The orb part of orb and dagger is called an Elemental Orb

Variation on the Dalish Elf vs City Elf question answer:

"While I think 'city elf' vs 'Dalish elf' is a useful distinction in the South, there's a lot more nuance in the North. Rivain, for example, has Dalish settlements intertwined with other cities. There's just not the same separation, so each of the factions has a unique approach to your lineage. You can define some of that further with choices you make in conversations - we really wanted to leave a lot of that open to players to RP."

[localization question answer variation] "Games are so complex and have so many moving pieces that you need to be in regular communication or things get missed. And a lot of that is because ultimately localization is more than just a straightforward translation. Jokes, metaphors, sayings - even specific lore terms - aren't just a matter of finding the equivalent word in another language. Every writer has a story about a time they had to explain the specifics of an off-color joke they wrote so that localization could properly capture the intent."

So mostly variations (as in rephrasing) and things, but some of the new info that particularly stood out to me was things like the description of Emmrich's exploration ability, the mention that the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace (iirc this was speculated before but not confirmed?), the new lil details or insights on Assan and Davrin, the bit about Assan being from the Last Flight eggs, etc.

[chimkin-samich]

its kinda a stupid question, but i rlly wanted to know how tf you guys come up w such good dialogue for the comics u do :o i guess a better way to word it is whats the whole process like when making the comics? do you just go with the flow when writing & drawing or do u guys write the dialogue out before?

another question is how r u two doing? ive noticed its been quite a bit since the last art post…NO PRESSURE OFC just wondering:3

RAAAA HI HI WERE STILL ALIVE 😭

Ok question first then explain what’s been goin on for us Irl Skdkf

Our comic process is a bit… messy let’s call it lol. Typically how it goes is we get an idea on what to do wether it be angst fluff or anything, the idea can come from a meme, something that happened to us, reading something or even just a random lightbulb moment, from there we bounce it off each other to see how it could possible go and if the other has perhaps other ideas on how to build on it

After we have a solid idea on it we basically live roleplay, we set the scene and one of us starts it. The roleplay isn’t exactly what we’re going for (mainly cuz it ends up a lil goofy or really really bad) but it gives feral the base she needs on how to direct the comic, sometimes I’ll even make a write out a quick and short snippet to help her build the scene as well. Both RP and the snippet are very useful tho just depends how we’re feeling (it’s usually a RP tho cuz it also gives feral some expressions to work with as I play the boys)

It’s a messy way of doing it cuz it’s very chaotic but it helps a ton for feral to have a starting base before diving into the comic, both by giving her some dialogue to modify, expression to work with and a general direction on the story

As for the part if we’re ok.. I don’t wanna jinx it again so I’ll say that we’re alive 😭 (putting a read more cuz post is getting long)

We planned on coming back to makin art in Feb/March but things did not go as planned, in Dec our water pump broke so we had to move out for a week until that got fixed and then in late Jan our roof started leaking and we had to pack up and move out entirely in March cuz we found out the entire roof is atrocious and needs to be torn out and redone 😭

We thought we would be back home by now but they were barely able to start working on it last week cuz legal issues got in the way that took forever to resolve so we might not be back home until June, we have a place to stay tho so dw bout that! Just a lot of things have been happening and we’re really hoping we can start making art again soon, we do have comms that we need to finish first but once those are finished we plan on hopping back in cuz we really miss making content

So fingers crossed we can actually get back into it, in the mean time we do have a lot of wips, both drawing’s and writings cuz we would start em in this period and then have to stop due to issues, so there’s not only a lot in the works but also even more ideas in our head of stuff too do ✨

[ficcerspam]

DCxDP - ADDITIONS AND NONFICS

Magician!Danny AU - 9.27.23*

Danny learns sleight of hand and goes through Hijinks and Shenanigans. There are some DC offshoots where Zatanna is involved, with some inevitable angst from another user.

In the Interest of Medical Attention Addition - 10.02.23*

DCxDP - Red Hood goes missing. Danny, an eldritch horror tourist, just wants to be helpful. These two things are, unfortunately, related.

De-Aged Danny Angst Addition - 10.06.23*

DCxDP - Danny, having been capture and experimented on, gets de-aged with memory loss and some...physical complications. One of the Bats finds him. Dad!Dick Grayson implied.

Booo-merang Trouble Addition - 10.10.23

DCxDP - Jason gives off an ecto-signature, and tries to find a runaway/hiding/injured Danny in Gotham.

Baby Danny vs. The Joker Additions - 10.16.23*

DCxDP - De-aged Danny in a bat onesie wreaking havoc on the Joker for Funsies, and sort of getting adopted by Jason. There are a plethora of other reblogs that aren't included in the link, but this is where I've mentally stopped the AU at (personally). Highly recommend going through them for the fanart!

Candy Crush AU Additions - 10.31.23*

DCxDP - Additions written for @long-live-astronerd-ghost-king's Candy Crush AU. Dead on Main. LOTS of other reblogs that aren't included in the link, but this is where I've mentally stopped the AU at (personally).

Lucky Rush AU Additions - 12.02.23*

DCxDP - Additions written for @virgamsysxvolumes's Lucky Rush AU. Please go read it, it's so good!!! I've also designed some stuff for this AU, but Vivi has released some official art for the AU in the masterlist too!

Dan Doesn’t Like Danny Addition - 12.27.23*

DCxDP - a short sort of Not!fic where Dan comes to rain his wrath down on Trigon and the JL for different reasons. Lil’ angsty. Twoshot.

Estranged Brothers Dick and Danny Addition - 05.06.24*

DCxDP - Mr. Haley summons Danny to act in the circus, not expecting the Grayson's to take such a shine to him. The Grayson's die and Dick is adopted by Bruce, but Danny has to stay... Oneshot.

Casseroles and Confrontations Additions - 03.10.24

DCxDP - Batman sends a few of the Batfam to Amity Park to investigate the ghost sightings. When they get there, however, Jason refuses to step into the town due to some instinctual feeling he has. Check "#casseroles and confrontations" tag for non-story lore!

NOW WITH AMAZING FANART by @animal-123-crazy

MORE CUTE FANART by @jamiethebee

(a la Thor) ANOTHER! by @leesbian42

Jason, Meet Jason Addition - 05.09.24*

DC - Snippet inspired by Fanart of Red Hood!Jason meeting Robin!Jason. Morbid humor. Artist made their own continuation, just an extra panel that’s hilarious af.

Brother Bizzaro Addition - 05.13.24*

DCxDP - Danny is reincarnated as one of Superman’s clone. He escapes with a fellow clone he names Match (Bizarro, in a Project Match Clone Tube). I write a little snippet of the two at the Gotham Library learning how to read. Highly encourage you to read the extremely abundant reblogs! 

I Had a Nightmare Addition - 05.14.24*

DCxDP - Batman enters the Batcave to find Phantom sitting at the Batcomputer. Strange, for someone who has never been told the location of the Batcave. Angst. (Blood Blossoms)

Teen Titans and the Lost Boy Additions - 05.17.24* [AO3]

TTxDP - "After being on the run for a long time, Danny somehow stumbles his way into the middle of a fight. This leads to him joining the Teen Titans (much to his confusion)."

Reverse Robins with a Desiree Twist Additions - 06.19.24*

DCxDP - What if Damian wished to be the eldest? What if Desiree wanders into Gotham to grant it? Instead of turning Damian older, she turns the rest of the batkids younger in reverse order. (My additions are extremely angsty, a short Damian POV and a follow up Bruce POV)

[slimybeth69]

WIP WEDNESDAY

thanks for the tag @joelmillerisapunk

I got two lil snippets comin' in hot.

1.) GIRL DINNER

-

Joel is drunk again. Fuck, this is never good.

You're in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs with one arm around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. There is something about the way your fingers twirl around in his hair at the nape of his neck that feels good. Too good.

"C'mon, get off'a me," Joel groans, but there's no passion in his voice. It's been almost three weeks of just this, and he doesn't hate it. Not when he's drunk.

Barely dislikes it when he's sober, but he's better at acting like he doesn't want you on his lap when he hasn't had a drink that night. You're soft, and warm, and fit so perfectly on his lap it's like you were made to be there.

"Couple more minutes, Mister-man. Please?" You fucking whimper.

The sound floating through Joel's ear canal sends a shiver down his spine, and directly into his cock. It twitches in his jeans. He's got to start thinking about baseball, and carpentry work, and how he's probably going to die soon.

Nothing works. Joel can feel the heat from your cunt through your jeans, and his hands have been tied down to this chair every time you're not around. The only time you let him up is to use the bathroom-- and you have a gun while you wait for him the entire time, so he's never horny then!

And, as thankful as Joel is for this- you've never even looked at him like that. You look at him like you're in love with him all the time, but you've never once looked at him like you wanna touch him.

Joel tries to push his hips further into the chair, away from the perfect, searing heat of your middle.

"Where'ya goin?" Your voice purrs in his ear, your fingernails ghost across the skin on his neck and he shivers again, his cock feels it tenfold.

You feel it now, too.

"What're ya'--" you pause to look between your bodies, and then your eyes flash up to his. "That f'me?" You're whispering, and your glassy eyes are wide, and look so flattered.

"Ain't for nobody, stop lookin' at 'em," Joel grumbles, again, not really meaning any of it even though he should mean every single word.

"'Em?" you question him with your big, wet eyes and his cock twitches again.

Joel swallows hard, his eyes falling to your bottom lip clutched between your teeth, and nods. "Him, yeah, whatever you wanna call it-- ain't for you." He sighs softly.

"Why not?" you sink down further into his lap. The thin shorts you have on to wear to bed do nothing to keep your warmth contained. It's almost like Joel can feel what it would be like if you just whipped him out and sat-

He's never drinking with you again. Never again.

"Get off'a me," Joel leans forward gently as you lean into him, the tips of your noses touch softly.

"Gunna bite me if I kiss ya'?"

Joel is a goner, your breath smells sweet like raspberries and whiskey and every single thing about you is warm and soft-- Joel knows that if he wasn't fucking drunk he'd be fighting you tooth and nail, but he cannot right now.

He can't think about anything but what you'd feel like wrapped around him, milking him.

"Take'em out," Joel is the one to lean into the kiss, his lips aren't hesitant, or tentative at all when they meet yours. He is going to try and bite you- and he does, he nips at your bottom lip, but gently. He pulls back with it still bitten, and listens to you moan softly.

The quickness of your fingers isn't your friend, you struggle with his belt for what feels like an eternity as you push back against his mouth, eagerly slipping your tongue into Joel's waiting mouth.

Joel groans into your mouth when you wrap your hands around his girth, and then chuckles at your shocked gasp when you pull away to get a good look at him.

"He ain't gon' bite'chya," Joel teases, leaning forward, searching for your lips again.

"Might split me in half," you moan, presumably at the thought of Joel stretching you open.

Joel can't contain his own moan as you put the image in his head. "Fuuck, sit on him-- lemme feel ya'."

--

2.) A Lot Of Things

This is for my @jolapeno Dear-uary epistolary challenge (I can spell epistolary now on the first try, thanks Jo!)

--

Lucien might not be good, but he isn’t stupid. 

What woman would stick around if it wasn’t for the stuff and things? The money, the nice house the two of you shared- granted you were there alone a lot of the time. 

If Lucien was a good man, he would have left you by now.

But you stay, and you take his money, and you let him ‘make it up to you’, so– in his mind, you’re not good either. 

That’s why you’re perfect for him, and he’s perfect for you. 

This is all just a charade put on. The storming off, the sitting in the bathroom for hours. 

It’s gotta be. 

Lucien leaves the bathroom door for the first time since you walked in there, and walks to the table next to the bed, still messy from your early morning ‘wake up call’ to him– only to now have to be searching for that stupid– yep. There it is. 

Lucien grabs the hotel notepad and the pen sitting beside it and scribbles down words that probably mean nothing to either of you anymore- he says them so often.

I'm sorry.

Then he slides it under the bathroom door.

 “Babe?” 

There was a time when his voice saying that name didn’t make your stomach churn. There had been a time in your relationship when you knew he called you that alone.

That’s not the case anymore, so any name that isn’t your name feels like a firm slap across your cheek. 

A part of you wants him to worry that you took too many pills again, or maybe fell asleep in the tub, but the way he’s speaking tells you he knows you didn’t. You wouldn’t. 

Not after last time- you didn’t even want to do it then. You just wanted him to notice you- to see you, to think about you when you weren’t standing directly in front of him. 

Lucien forgot you when you weren’t around, and you had done everything to try and make him remember.

Changed his lock screen background to a picture of the two of you so when he looked at his phone or went to unlock it to take the number of some beautiful woman, he’d have to see you first. 

It was never the same picture when he’d come home from filming or his press tours– and you know what that means.

The hotel notepad comes through the space between the bathroom door and the floor.

I'm sorry.

Guilt. 

There is guilt inside of you, too. 

There is a part of you that thinks if you really loved him, you wouldn’t let him keep doing this to you- you would have put your foot down years ago and told him to man up or get out.

You wipe your tears before they can fall onto the paper, and stain it with the evidence of your sadness.

I know.

Then you pass it back to him under the door silently.

--

npt: @pedrospookie @almostempty @gothcsz @sp00kymulderr

@joelalorian @magpiepills @lotusbxtch

a hopeless, but FULL PRESSURE tag to @creepycorbeaux - I wanna see what you GOT BITCH, JESUS.

[goneinsecondsxo]

just read your jerejean oneshot and for such a short fic it was so good do u plan to write any more for them or aftg?

oh 😌 i’m so glad you liked it! i love them sm <3

i dooo plan on writing more for them! i’m working on a lil motorcycle roadtrip fic rn actually here have a wee snippet

The moment they walk up to the desk of the dimly lit motel, Jeremy knows they’re fucked. It’s late—much later than they’ve been getting to their accommodations every other night of this trip. So when the red-haired woman smirks, her blue eyes darting between the two of them, and mutters, “The last room we have only has a single queen bed,” Jeremy isn’t sure what to make of the fluttering in his chest. And when Jean answers, “We’ll take it,” without a hint of hesitation, Jeremy bites his lip to stifle his grin. Heat quickly racing up his neck, past his lightly freckled cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

[saltydumplings]

Hi, I’m not really sure how this works but I was wondering if you could write a lil short story/snippet of villain x reporter were villain find reporter following then after a big battle?

thank you in advance!! 💙

Oh my god I did it. I wrote a request for the first time in months, oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god--

Request #29

There was blood on their left shoulder. The villain huffed in annoyance, wiping at the stain with one hand and grimacing when it smudged.

That fight had been unnecessary.

The hero had instigated it - the villain giving them ample opportunity to stand down but their enemy was stubborn. Almost stupidly so. They took one look at the villain and decided that they couldn't possibly go one second longer without punching them in the face.

And, of course, the media would paint it as their fault. Because if the villain so much as breathed anywhere near the city centre then obviously their intentions were nothing short of nefarious. No, the villain didn't need to go grocery shopping at all: those bananas were clearly going to be the foundation for their next evil scheme - crucial some might say.

The villain groaned to themself as they walked down the alleyway, using their clean hand to pinch the bridge of their nose.

So much food had been wasted.

So much damage had been caused and for what?

If they were being honest, they weren't entirely sure if it was worth it anymore. If the cause that had led them to where they were still held out strong enough to reason days like this - destruction like this. Common destruction; everyday, needless, a mere swipe upon the hero's page but an ugly blot upon their own. The villain was supposed to be fighting for change but it seemed that everything they did only made the walls they were trying to tear down stronger. They were enabling the very thing they stood against and all the while they were hurting the people they were trying to save - trying to free from a society that never thought of them twice.

At this point, it was better to simply retire and let things return to the way they were. And, if in their misery they figured out a better way then perhaps they could try again...

The villain came to a sudden stop, wondering if they would truly give in right there and then, only to freeze at the sound of movement behind them. A short, scuffling noise - someone attempting to hide and not doing a very good job of it.

Surely the hero hadn't followed them?

The villain turned about, surveying the empty alley behind them, their gaze quickly honing in on a stack of crates. They waited patiently, silent, watching as their would-be stalker peered out from behind their cover and ducked down twice as fast - a small squeak of realisation echoing off the walls. Even if the villain hadn't seen them, they certainly would have heard that.

They let themself relax somewhat, rationalising that their pursuer was either a civilian or a moron. Perhaps even both...

"You realise that you're not exactly discreet, right?" they said.

There was a pause. A long one.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," the villain pushed. "Either you come out, or I drag you out. One--"

"No, no! N-No need for dragging!"

The villain felt their brows raising as their stalker revealed themself, quickly springing out from their hiding spot like a startled rabbit. They had been right: civilian and a moron. Though, when it came to members of the press, the villain couldn't really expect much else.

"I-I, um," the reporter stumbled on their words as the villain approached them, hands clutching onto their notepad shakily. "I just had a, er - a f-few questions. I-If that's alright with you, of course..."

Perhaps stubborn was a better word. Tenacious.

The villain had seen the way these people practically hovered around the hero. Had even seen one or two get punched by the crime-fighter out of pure annoyance and yet, still, more persisted to harass them.

None had ever attempted to approach the villain before though. None had ever dared...until now.

They stopped just centimetres away from the other, amused by the way the reporter held their ground even when they were clearly scared out of their mind.

"You get three questions," the villain allowed. "But I won't promise any answers."

The reporter's eyes widened. "W-Wait, only three?" they asked.

"Two now," the villain answered.

A beat.

The reporter floundered, opening and closing their mouth multiple times before hurriedly flicking through their notepad. Clearly they'd had their questions planned out - pages upon pages of them - but now they were having to choose only two.

The villain quirked a brow as they watched, foot starting to tap upon the ground while the seconds ticked by.

"Okay, I- no, no, h-hold on."

The reporter flicked back through their notes again, the villain tolerating it all of about five more seconds before snatching the pad from their hands and holding it out of their reach - the reporter giving a startled squeak before looking up at them with horror.

"G-Give that back," they said.

The villain smirked. "No."

"B-But--"

"But what?"

"I..." the reporter flushed, fingers twitching at their sides. "Could you please just give it back?"

The villain's grin grew sharper. "No. And you have one question left - better choose wisely."

"Wait, but that wasn't- I didn't- i-it--!"

"One question~" the villain chimed.

The reporter settled back into silence. Their gaze flicked between their notepad and the villain that held it, something surprisingly similar to a glare lining their expression. Were they about to...?

They did.

The reporter jumped up and snatched the notepad right from the villain's fingers, darting back immediately and flicking through it with frantic urgency.

Cheeky little--

Where the hell did these people get their courage from?

The villain went to snatch it back but the reporter raised their hand, reading out from the final page in an incomprehensible rush:

"DoyouthinkthatHeroshouldbeheldaccountableforthedamagetheycausewhenfightingyouanddoyoubelievethatthisdamageisnecessarywhenthwartingyourplans?"

The villain stopped. Blinked. "What did you just say to me?"

The reporter swallowed, taking in one steady breath before trying again more slowly. "Do you think that Hero should be held accountable for the damage they cause when fighting you, a-and do you believe that this damage is necessary when thwarting your plans?"

Of all the questions they could have asked, the villain had not expected it to be that. It stunned them: they were so used to people always taking the hero's side that they'd almost forgotten the rush of relief that came with being believed - that little thrill of confidence when you found out you weren't alone.

They paused, eyes wide as they studied the other in a new light. "No," they whispered.

"No?" the reporter questioned. They let themself relax a little - no longer cautious but rather curious.

"No," the villain clarified more strongly. "No: that damage is not necessary. And yes they should be held accountable for it - they shouldn't be allowed to use me as an escape goat for the destruction that they actively cause."

For a moment, the reporter's jaw went slack, fully engrossed in what they were saying. The second the villain stopped though they fumbled about their pockets, quickly fishing out a pen and clicking the lid off - taking a few scribbled notes before staring back up at the villain with shining eyes.

"Anything else?" they asked eagerly.

The villain flushed a little under the attention, and not in a bad way. The more they talked to the reporter the more likeable they became: the villain still thought they were stubborn - foolishly so - but they were beginning to recognise that it was more in a puppy-like way than anything truly annoying; the reporter was cute.

"They'll look for any excuse to attack me," they said, each word a small weight off their chest. "The papers will say that I was the one to initiate but I rarely am - that's just what the government wants you to believe. In fact, I'm sure Hero is instructed to be more reckless purposefully just to paint me in a worse light but that's never been my intention: never has been, never will be."

"I knew it!" the reporter said. Then they blushed when the villain raised a brow at them, ducking their head in a vague attempt to hide behind that tiny notebook of theirs. "I mean, I - I had some, er, speculations..."

The villain hummed. "Good speculations I'd hope."

The red of the reporter's cheeks darkened. "A-Any more comments you'd like to add?" they asked, changing the topic.

The villain had to resist the urge to sigh. Because yes; yes, they did. So many...but they didn't want to dump it all on the reporter at once and run the risk of losing the one person that they'd spoken openly to in years.

"What do you intend to do with this information?" they questioned back. "Do you plan to publish it?"

"W-Well, yes. If that's alright, o-of course." The reporter shuffled a little on their feet, suddenly shy. "Not in any of the major papers though - obviously. I mean, they would never let me... It's for a blog I write online. It's small but I-I like to think that it could grow to something bigger. Something that could, y-you know..."

"Change things?" the villain finished, watching as the reporter gave a small nod. "You want things to change?"

The reporter huffed. "Who doesn't?" they said.

The villain considered that a while. Considered it with a hesitation that they'd never had to deal with before. It was one thing to put themself at risk, it was a whole other thing entirely to then insert someone else into that same mess - to tangle them up in something that they could never get out of.

"How much?" the villain challenged. "How much do you want it?"

A pause.

The reporter swallowed, eyes glancing over the villain's frame in a studious way. "Why do I feel like you're giving me a massive, life-altering choice?"

"Because I am," the villain said simply.

"Oh."

The reporter fell silent again. Their gaze drifted away - focused back on the entrance of the alleyway that they'd followed the villain down before falling once more to stare at the notepad in their hands. They held it just a little tighter, lower lip caught between their teeth as they thought it through.

The villain waited patiently, a small excitement sparking within their chest when the reporter's attention drew back to them.

"More than anything," the other said, finally. "More than I can openly admit."

The other followed their direction without question. "O-Oh, right, yes I-- o-of course!"

The villain nodded. Smiled.

"Alright, then. So be it," they said. "You'll want to put that somewhere safe," they added as an afterthought, gesturing to the notepad in the reporter's hands.

They fumbled to put it away into a bag at their side, the villain watching them carefully as they did it.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" they asked.

The reporter waved a hand dismissively whilst they struggled with the zip. "What, me? No, no, it - it's all work, work, work. I never really find the time for much else."

"So no one to expect you then?" the villain pursued. "No one you're meant to be seeing?"

"No, I--" The reporter paused, their eyebrows drawing down ever so slightly. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Because..."

The villain took a step forward then, hands reaching out to catch onto their shoulders. They pulled the reporter closer, the civilian's face flushing at the sudden contact - the sudden strong contact.

"I'm planning to enact my first official kidnapping," the villain said, "and I want everything to go as smoothly as possible."