leahburreaux

[leahburreaux]

the urge to fuck him when he starts rambling about nerdy shit i don't understand

[leahburreaux]

ATE UPP

Mr. Ghostface

Summary: You and your best friend with benefits, Joe, went to a Halloween party in matching Ghostface costumes, but it was his unexpected confidence that stole the show. This newly founded side of his ignited a thrilling energy between you, leaving you wanting more.

Contains/Warnings: NSFW Content, CNC, Begging, Humiliation, Blowjob, Slight fingering, Degrading, Praising, Facemasks, Facial, Slight usage of alcohol, unprotected silly (wrap your willy), Some BDSM (Slapping & Bondage), Probably more on top of not proofread! 18+ ONLY

Pairings: SubtoDom!Shy!Joe x Cocky!Domtosub!Reader

Word count:  12,667

A/N: Based off of this request! Thank you for the recommendation, happy late halloween!

You leaned in close to the mirror, steadying your hand as you applied the last few strokes of mascara, ensuring each lash was perfectly separated and lengthened. You took a step back to admire your reflection, eyes narrowing slightly as you reached for your lip liner. The soft pencil glided smoothly along the curves of your lips, outlining them with precision. You blended it effortlessly with the rich lipstick, a flawless contrast of deep color that accentuated the fullness of your pout.

You couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself, your gaze trailing down your own figure as you turned slightly from side to side. The corset hugged your waist, cinching it tightly, emphasizing your curves and pulling your bust up just enough that it threatened to spill over the structured cups. The sight was decadent—seductive. The fishnet stockings clung to your soft thighs, adding a teasing element that paired perfectly with the black leather skirt sitting low on your hips, just barely covering your plump ass.

“Bro, are you almost—woah, hey there, hot stuff,” Joe’s voice interrupted, his tone changing mid-sentence as he walked into the bathroom. He stopped dead in his tracks, holding a hard seltzer in hand, clearly pre-gaming for the night ahead. His eyes lingered on you, frozen for a second, taking in every detail of your outfit.

You rolled your eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. Without missing a beat, you snatched the can from his hand, bringing it to your mouth. In one swift motion, you chugged the rest of the drink, the cool liquid rushing down your throat, and then placed the empty can back into his hand.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Joseph,” you teased, your voice low and dripping with sarcasm as you turned back to the mirror, giving your makeup one last critical glance.

Joe shook the empty can, his eyebrows raising in mock offense. “First off, you owe me a drink now,” he started, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Second off, my eyes are perfectly to myself, thank you very much. And third—”

You cut him off with a light chuckle. “God, are you still talking?” you quipped, your lips curving into a smirk as you pretended to be focused on fixing your eyeliner.

Joe scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Third,” he continued, refusing to be derailed, “Why are you doing a fuckin’ full face of makeup? You’re gonna be wearing a mask all night.”

You shrugged, turning toward Joe with a smirk as you finally felt content with your look. The air in the room seemed to shift slightly, your confidence radiating as you adjusted your posture, taking one last glance at yourself in the mirror. “Gotta be prepared,” you teased, the corners of your lips curving into a knowing smile. “You never know which frat boy might come up and try to enchant me.”

The words dripped with sarcasm, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that followed. It was a game the two of you played—constantly pushing each other’s buttons, toeing the line between teasing and something a bit more heated. Joe, of course, rolled his eyes immediately, a well-practiced response to your antics, as if the idea of you with some random frat guy was laughable.

“Oh, please,” he groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “You hate every frat on this campus. I’ve heard you rant about them for hours upon hours.”

You nodded, unable to argue with that truth, but your grin only widened as you leaned a little closer, your voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “Ever heard of hate fucking?”

Joe scoffed at your audacity, his eyebrows lifting in mock surprise as his eyes flicked over you briefly. You knew exactly how to rile him up, how to get that reaction out of him—how to push just hard enough without crossing the line. As you brushed past him, heading into his room, you felt his gaze linger on you, and you threw him a look over your shoulder, daring him to keep up the banter.

“Oh, so you’re a whore?” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk playing on his lips told you he was still very much in on the joke.

Without skipping a beat, you spun around to face him, your expression sharp and challenging. “Oh, so you’re jealous?” The words hung in the air, laced with a kind of boldness that made his smirk falter ever so slightly, the confidence he usually exuded wavering just enough for you to notice.

“Jealous?” Joe repeated, his voice taking on that familiar defensive edge, though he tried to play it cool. He leaned against the doorframe, pretending to be nonchalant as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Trust me, I’ve got my eyes on this girl from the sorority house down the block.”

He began describing her, rattling off details about her hair, her height, the way she smiled at him during parties. But you knew better. His type was far from what he was painting for you. You could almost picture the exact type of girl Joe would normally go for, and it wasn’t this cookie-cutter sorority girl he was pretending to be interested in.

As you listened, a smirk played on your lips, though you didn’t interrupt him. Let him dig his own hole. His words sounded hollow, and you could tell even he didn’t believe what he was saying. Your relationship with Joe was complicated—always had been. You were close, closer than most friends, and yet neither of you had ever dared to fully explore the tension that simmered beneath the surface. It was like an unspoken agreement: push, tease, get close, but never cross the line. Not really.

You took a glance around his room as he rambled on. The place was a chaotic mess—your clothes and his were scattered everywhere, tangled together like some sort of testament to how intertwined your lives had become. Your bras hung lazily off the back of his desk chair, your sweaters draped over the edge of his bed. His sneakers were tossed in random corners, along with the endless sea of textbooks and football gear. This space was as much yours as it was his, though you technically had your own shared dorm with one of your friends. But you rarely stayed there anymore. You found yourself spending most nights here, in Joe’s small, single-person dorm.

It never felt weird sharing a bed with Joe, either. Despite the teasing and playful banter, things stayed respectful between you two. On occasion, though, the lines blurred just enough to make you question what you were doing. The way his arm would drape over you during the night, pulling you closer unconsciously, or the way you sometimes caught yourself lingering a little too long in his space, breathing in his scent that clung to the sheets. But it always stayed 

Joe had never been shy about telling you when you couldn’t crash at his place. Sometimes, with a lazy grin, he’d text you, saying you should probably stay at your dorm for the night—those were the nights he had brought a girl over. 

In those moments, you could picture the frantic way he would shove your things into the closet, hiding any trace of your presence in his room. Your bras, your sweaters, even your toothbrush would disappear into drawers or under the bathroom sink. He didn’t want his one-night stands to get the wrong idea—to think that you two were more than just friends, or that a girl — you — slept in the same bed with him, nearly every night. He could try to explain it to them, tell them that you were nothing more than his best friend, but let’s be real—what girl would believe that?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Joe's voice broke through the room, laced with a mix of frustration and confusion, his brows furrowing as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt, a subconscious display of his natural confidence, though his eyes couldn’t quite meet yours with the same certainty.

You couldn’t help but smirk, dragging out the silence a little longer as you casually bent down to slip on your black high-top Converse. Taking your time, you slowly laced them up, tying the knots with deliberate care. The quiet was heavy, and you could practically feel Joe’s impatience growing, his eyes glued to you as he waited for a response.

Finally, you straightened, still smiling to yourself as you glanced up at him, leaning back slightly as if you weren’t bothered at all by his challenge. "Are you trying to convince me," you paused for effect, your eyes locking with his, "or convince yourself that you actually think that girl is attractive?"

Your words were playful, but there was a teasing edge to them, a knowing challenge that made his posture stiffen just a little. The corners of your lips curled into a mischievous grin as you caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Joe’s smirk faltered for a moment, his arms tightening over his chest in defense as if he was trying to stand his ground. "You’re full of it," he muttered, though there wasn’t much conviction behind his words. You could see the frustration, but it wasn’t from your teasing—it was because you had hit the mark.

You leaned against the dresser, eyes sparkling as you let your gaze travel over him, watching his reaction carefully. "I mean, come on," you teased, tilting your head as you bit your lip playfully. "You’re not fooling anyone with that sorority girl story. It’s cute, though. You almost had me believing it for a second."

His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something back, but the words never came. Instead, he just stood there, arms still crossed, staring at you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. You pushed off the dresser, walking over to him with a slow, deliberate pace, your grin growing wider.

When you were inches away, you raised a brow, giving him a once-over. "Admit it," you said softly, "You’re not as into her as you’re pretending to be. She's just another fling.”

Joe swallowed, his eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back again. For a moment, you thought he might just play along. But instead, he scoffed, shaking his head with a crooked smile that didn’t quite hide his nervous energy. "You think you know everything, huh?"

You shrugged, your grin never fading as you stepped back, giving him a playful wink. "I know you better than you know yourself, Joey B."

Joe let out an exaggerated scoff, brushing past you with a huff as he grabbed his Halloween mask off the dresser, his broad shoulder lightly bumping yours in the process. "Are you almost done?" he grumbled, not bothering to hide his impatience. He glanced at his phone screen for what must’ve been the fifth time in the past few minutes, his thumb tapping it rapidly in frustration. "We should’ve left 30 minutes ago."

You bit back a grin, more amused than anything, as you admired yourself in the mirror one last time. The carefully chosen makeup, the outfit, everything was on point—and, of course, the mask, which you grabbed just as Joe was already heading for the door. Feeling proud of your look, you couldn’t resist throwing a little more attitude into your next move.

"Yeah, yeah, relax," you said with a casual wave of your hand, like his complaint was nothing more than background noise. You spun on your heel, walking toward the door with your head held high, your matching mask dangling from your fingers. "But you’re stopping by the gas station to buy me a seltzer on the way."

You didn’t even need to turn around to know exactly how Joe reacted, "You owe me a seltzer, you fucker!" he barked, his voice incredulous, as though the very suggestion of him buying you a drink was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard.

You finally turned around, taking in the sight of him standing there, mask in one hand, his expression caught somewhere between shock and irritation. His brow was furrowed, and the way his hands dropped dramatically to his sides made the moment even funnier. You knew you were pushing his buttons, but that was part of the game between the two of you—a constant back-and-forth of playful banter that never got old.

You tilted your head, shrugging as if his outrage was the most unreasonable thing you’d ever heard. “Oh, come on, Joey,” you teased, drawing out his name in that way you knew would get under his skin. 

Joe’s scoff deepened, and you could see his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. Even when he was annoyed, he could never stay mad at you for long. He shook his head, grumbling something under his breath about your audacity, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes now. You’d won this round, and you both knew it.

With a grin, you stepped toward the door, tossing your mask over your shoulder. “Now hurry up, we’re already late because of you,” you called back, the teasing tone of your voice lingering in the air as you headed out, knowing full well that you’d just flipped the entire situation back on him.

Joe let out an exaggerated sigh behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps following close as he caught up. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, though you could hear the playfulness in his voice now. The irritation was gone, replaced by that familiar teasing edge the two of you always fell into when banter was at its peak.

As you reached the hallway, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see him adjusting his mask, his eyes narrowing at you through the eye holes with mock seriousness. He looked ridiculous, and you stifled a laugh as you continued down the stairs, knowing full well he could see your shoulders shaking with silent amusement.

Once you hit the bottom step, you stopped and spun around, leaning back against the railing. “So, what’s the plan tonight, huh?” you asked, raising a brow as he came to stand in front of you. You folded your arms over your chest, taking in his whole costume — The playful homage to the iconic Ghostface from Scream.

His black jeans hugged his legs perfectly, accentuating his toned physique. The plain black t-shirt clung to his chest, the fabric stretching just enough to showcase the definition of his biceps, which were delightfully constricted within the tight sleeves. He completed the look with black Converse that matched your own, creating an effortless symmetry between you two. And of course, the signature ghost mask rested in his hands, a stark contrast to his casual attire, ready to transform him into the figure of horror from your shared late-night movie marathons.

That night spent binge-watching the entire Scream franchise had been a turning point—a whirlwind of laughter, gasps, and playful teasing as you both shouted at the screen. In that cozy, candlelit atmosphere, you’d come up with the idea to wear matching costumes for Halloween. But instead of simply copying the classic Ghostface look, you both decided to infuse it with your personal style. For you, that meant a striking black leather skirt that barely skimmed your thighs, a corset cinching your waist, and fishnet stockings that accentuated your soft legs. The Converse were a nod to your comfort, tying your outfits together as you both donned the masks that added an element of mischief.

Standing there together, you couldn’t help but admire how good you both looked. The combination of sleek fabrics, rebellious undertones, and the playful spirit of your costumes made it hard to deny how hot you both were, and deep down, you both knew it. But your eyes were irresistibly drawn to Joe’s arms—how the fabric of his shirt squeezed his biceps with every small movement. It was a sight that made your heart race.

Joe paused for a moment, his hands perched on his hips as he shot you a half-smirk, the corners of his mouth curling up in that signature way that made your insides flutter. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Drink, smoke, fuck someone, come home?” he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the grin that was tugging at the corners of your lips, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Oh right... just another night with the sorority girl and whatever fratty I find,” you shot back, the playful banter rolling off your tongue with ease.

With a laugh, you pushed off the railing and brushed past him, letting your shoulder bump against his arm as you headed for the lobby door. Joe followed closely behind, but you caught him muttering under his breath, “You’ll see. By the end of the night, I’ll have that girl around my arm like candy.”

You glanced back at him, arching an eyebrow as you made your way to his car. The sound of his keys jingling in his hand filled the air as he unlocked the door, a familiar melody of anticipation. “Mmm, I’ll be too busy getting fucked myself,” you smirked, pulling the handle and slipping into the passenger seat, the cool leather welcoming you.

The two of you sat in the car, Joe tapping his fingers lightly on the wheel as he drove, and you both fell into your usual, lighthearted banter. There was a familiar ease between you, a comfort built from years of friendship—and, yes, a few “complicated” nights here and there. Despite how often you two stay the night with one another, it was almost always innocent, though sometimes, on late nights and under certain circumstances, it had led to something more. It was a dynamic you both danced around, knowing the other was hooking up with other people too, keeping it casual without ever talking about what it meant.

Somehow, the topic of hookups had come up, drifting to the subject of preferences in bed. Joe looked over, clearly a little more curious than usual, and he leaned into the conversation.

“So, you’re saying…” he started, his tone light, though he shifted nervously. “If you were with someone else, you’d be… I don’t know… different?”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“Well,” he hesitated, his cheeks coloring a little as he looked back to the road, “like… not so… not so in charge?” He muttered the last part, glancing at you sheepishly.

You smirked, feeling a thrill at his sudden shyness. “Oh, yeah, maybe.” You leaned back, letting the truth slip out casually, though your heart raced. “I’m actually more of a… sub, if I’m being honest.”

Joe’s eyes widened, and his hand slipped on the wheel just a bit. “Wait—what?” he said, clearly shocked. “But… you’re so… bossy with me.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s because you get all shy and nervous around me, Joe! It’s like… if I don’t take charge, nothing would happen.” You paused, glancing at him, seeing him process this. “But, yeah, with other people, I’m usually… a little different.”

Joe’s surprise was evident, his eyes fixed ahead, though you could see the thoughts turning over in his mind. “I… I just figured that was… I don’t know, just how you are. You know, dominate,” he mumbled. His cheeks were fully flushed now, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing, seeing him caught so off guard. “I didn’t know it was different with me.”

You took a breath, deciding to be just a little more honest. “Well, you’ve told me before,” you said quietly, eyes trained on him, “that you’re… dominant with other girls. So why is it different with me?”

Joe glanced at you, biting his lip before looking away. He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, but his gaze softened. “Maybe I just like it when you’re in charge,” he admitted, the words so quiet they almost vanished into the hum of the car.

A beat of silence passed, tension thickening between you. You felt a spark of excitement at his confession, a thrill at realizing just how carefully he approached things with you.

"Maybe..." you started, drawing out the word, "but you've also never actually been in charge with me before."

Joe’s head whipped toward you, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. “What? That’s not completely true,” he insisted, almost a little too defensively.

But you just gave him a smirk, "Please. You’re cocky and assertive all the time. You always have an attitude because you're a diva and have a huge ego… but as soon as me and you? Are in bed? You can barely figure out where to put your hands, Joey.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and you watched his cheeks color as he tried to hide a laugh. You could tell your words hit a nerve. He leaned back in his seat, feigning offense.

“Maybe you’re just used to being the dominant one with other girls. But with me? You’re a little lost, aren’t you?” You flashed him a teasing smile, enjoying the way your words made him squirm.

 “I could take control if I wanted to,” he muttered, the confidence wavering slightly, as though he were trying to convince himself.

“Yeah, okay..” you shot back with a chuckle, enjoying every second of his flustered reaction.

── .✦

As you stepped into the party, the energy surged around you, a whirlwind of laughter, flashing lights, and bodies moving to the rhythm of the music. The moment you entered, you felt the thrill of the night electrifying your skin. You were ready to have fun, and you could sense Joe’s nervous excitement beside you.

“Let’s grab some drinks,” you said, steering him toward the bar, your hips swaying as you walked. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, and it made you smirk. You loved this teasing game, and you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

You ordered a couple of cocktails, your voice light and flirty as you bantered with the bartender. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a good drink around here?” you joked, your laughter ringing out. You felt Joe’s tension beside you, his eyes darting to the frat boys nearby who were watching you, clearly impressed.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, leaning closer to one of them as the bartender handed you your drinks, the cool condensation running down the glass.

Joe muttered something under his breath beside you, trying to sound casual, but you could see the way his jaw tightened.

You turned, scanning the room and spotting a group of guys chatting excitedly. One of them caught your eye, flashing a confident smile your way. You gave him a playful wave, feeling the heat of Joe’s gaze on you. “Oh, he's hot as hell,” you said, your voice teasing as you nudged Joe with your shoulder.

“Yeah? Go for it,” Joe replied as he took a sip of the mix in his cup, though his tone was laced with something that made you pause. He was trying to sound indifferent—like he didn't care—but the way his eyes flared with jealousy told a different story.

“Oh, come on, you’re not worried, are you?” you teased, tilting your head to the side, enjoying every moment of his discomfort. 

“No, but we just got here,” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively, but there was a nervous energy radiating off him.

You replied, taking a sip of your drink, “I mean, look at me. How could I not be the center of attention?” You glanced over at the frat boy again, who was still looking your way. You winked at him, and Joe’s expression shifted, the mix of annoyance and something deeper swirling in his gaze.

“Seriously, though, I thought you weren’t into these guys,” he said, feigning casualness, but you could tell he was locked onto you, his focus unwavering.

“I’m not,” you replied playfully, “but a girl can have a little fun, right?” You leaned closer to Joe, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, you’re always the one telling me that guys find it hot when the girl makes the first move, right?”

He let out a soft laugh, but it was strained. “Yeah, well, that was before I knew I’d be watching you do it right in front of me.”

“Aw, poor Joey,” you teased, your tone dripping with sweetness. You turned back to the party, scanning the crowd as the music pulsed through the air. Just then, a tall frat boy approached, flashing you a grin that seemed too confident for his own good. He leaned in close, brushing against your side and giving your ass a playful pinch.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. “What’s a girl like you doing with a guy like him?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the thrill of the moment sending a rush through you. “He's my best friend,” you replied, letting your eyes flicker over to Joe, who was glaring daggers at the frat boy. The mix of jealousy and protectiveness in his expression was almost palpable.

“Why don’t you ditch him and come hang out with me instead?” the frat boy suggested, his hand lingering on your waist, inching closer. “I promise I’ll show you a real good time.”

“Wow, aren’t you bold?” you teased, leaning slightly into his touch as you reveled in the effect it had on Joe. You could feel his irritation radiating off him.

“Bold is the name of the game, right?” the frat boy replied, flashing you a roguish grin. “You’re too fine to be just standing here with him.”

You took a sip of your drink, letting the tension build before responding. “I mean, I do love a little fun, but it’s not like you can offer me anything he can’t,” looking over at Joe, hoping he'd catch onto the indication.

The frat boy leaned in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I can offer you plenty, trust me. Why not give me a chance to prove it?”

You took a long sip of your drink, letting the moment stretch. “I’m sure you think so,” you replied, smirking as you caught Joe’s eye again. The way his jaw tightened told you everything you needed to know about how much he hated this.

The frat boy continued, clearly misreading the situation, “Come on, don’t act like you’re too good for a little fun. I promise I can show you a good time.”

“Here's the thing,” you said, rolling your eyes as if you were bored with his attempts. “—I’m looking for someone who can actually keep up,” You joke, but he didnt find you amusing. 

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “You think you’re all that just because you look good? Confidence isn’t everything, you know.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “You’re right. It’s not. But it helps when you actually have something to back it up.” You glanced pointedly over at Joe, enjoying the way his expression shifted from irritation to an almost protective stance.

“Maybe you should take notes,” you added, a sly smile creeping across your lips as you turned back to the frat boy. “Because, honestly, you’re coming off more desperate than anything else.”

He took a step closer, the arrogance faltering just a bit. “Desperate? I’m just saying—”

You cut him off, leaning in slightly and lowering your voice, letting the challenge hang between you. “No one wants to play games with someone who can’t even handle a simple conversation. If you can’t impress me with your words, what makes you think you can impress me in other ways?” You question, glazing down at his crotch.

You could see the anger simmering beneath his facade, and it only fueled your fire. “You know what? Forget it,” he spat, taking a step back, his bravado crumbling. “You’re not worth my time anyway.”

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, crossing your arms as you watched him turn away. You called after him, the smirk on your face never faltering. “Guess you weren’t up for the challenge after all.”

The frat boy shot you one last glare over his shoulder, but his retreat was unmistakable. You took a slow sip from your drink, savoring the moment before turning to Joe, who was watching you with a look that was equal parts entertained and impressed.

Joe’s smirk faltered just slightly as he watched the frat boy walk away, annoyance still evident in the tense set of his shoulders. He glanced at you, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to hide his irritation. “Really?” he muttered, sounding half-amused but unable to fully mask his annoyance. “Flirting with him just to turn him down like that?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence as you met his stare. “Oh, come on. It was harmless.” You leaned in, dropping your voice. “Besides, I thought you’d enjoy the show.”

Joe’s expression remained stern, but there was a spark in his eyes that gave him away. “I don’t know if ‘enjoy’ is the right word,” he replied, though a smirk began tugging at the corner of his mouth. “More like… satisfying.”

You grinned, inching closer. “So you did like it, huh?”

Joe shook his head, the lingering smirk betraying his supposed annoyance. He muttered, “It was kind of… hot.” He leaned in, eyes catching yours, and you could see the glint of something more than jealousy there.

A mischievous grin spread across your face as you met his gaze. You leaned in closer, letting your lips brush his ear as you whispered, “See… and that—that’s why I’m the dom in bed.”

You straightened, holding his gaze with a playful raise of your brows before taking a slow sip from your drink. Without giving him a chance to respond, you flashed him a knowing smile and turned away, slipping into the crowd and joining the rhythm of bodies on the dance floor.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Joe watching you, clearly affected. His eyes never left you, and even across the room, the electricity between you both was undeniable.

You straightened, holding his gaze with a playful raise of your brows, then took a slow, deliberate sip from your drink. The world around you seemed to fade as you flashed him a knowing smile and turned away, slipping into the thrumming crowd, where the rhythm of bodies pulsed around you like a living entity.

Lost in the feeling, you surrendered to the chaos. The bodies bumped into you, a mix of warmth and energy enveloping you as the flashing lights painted the room in bursts of color. With every beat, time felt suspended, moving in slow motion, as though the universe was allowing you to savor each moment. Your body tingled with warmth, a fuzzy haze from the drink coursing through your veins, blurring the edges of reality.

As you danced, you occasionally caught Joe’s eye, his figure a steady presence in the corner. He stood with a drink in hand, his intense gaze locked onto you, and you could feel the weight of his attention even from across the room. Every so often, you’d spot the way he gripped his cup tighter whenever some guy came up to you, hands casually resting on your waist, his thigh pressing against yours as you swayed to the beat. The sight made your heart race with delight.

You relished in the way his expression changed—his jaw tightening, a flash of annoyance crossing his features, contrasting sharply with the heat that radiated from him. But then, just as quickly, you noticed his grip would loosen, his shoulders relaxing, once the guy moved on to another girl in the crowd, everyone clearly intoxicated and lost in their own revelries.

With each shake of your hips, every sultry move that made your ass sway, you couldn’t help but circle back around, ensuring your eyes found Joe’s. You reveled in how his cheeks flushed deeper with each teasing motion, that familiar mix of desire and jealousy lighting a fire in his gaze. The connection between you was electric, each glance a silent conversation filled with unspoken challenges and undeniable attraction.

In the middle of all the chaos, it suddenly hit you—you had forgotten about the main part of your costumes. You pulled the Ghostface mask from your purse, slipping it over your head, the fabric fitting snugly as you transformed into your character completely. A smirk tugged at your lips, feeling utterly complete in your outfit now, an adrenaline-fueled thrill coursing through you.

You bit your lip, excitement bubbling within as you caught a glimpse of Joe from the corner of your eye, pulling his own mask down over his face. Both of you were now fully in character, the familiar Ghostface smile adding an edge of mischief to his demeanor. The night had taken on a new layer of intensity, and you could sense that together, you were about to stir up some serious trouble.

── .✦

You lost track of time in the chaos of the party, closing your eyes, you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm that coursed through your veins. It felt like the music had taken control of your body, igniting every nerve ending and setting your skin alight with warmth.

With each sway of your hips, you lost yourself in the moment, the pressure of the outside world dissipating as you moved to the beat. You didn't care who you bumped into; the crowd was just an extension of the dance floor, bodies moving together in a euphoric haze. You relished the freedom, letting your body flow and twist, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation.

As you danced, you could feel the heat of the bodies surrounding you—some brushing against you in rhythm, others weaving through the crowd. The flashing lights cast shadows and illuminations across the room, creating a kaleidoscope effect that only heightened your sense of exhilaration. You threw your head back, laughing at the pure joy of it all, the thrill of being so utterly alive and free.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of losing yourself in the music, you opened your eyes, expecting to find Joe still standing in the corner, watching you with that intense gaze of his. But when you looked around, he wasn’t there.

A wave of confusion washed over you as you scanned the crowd, your heart rate quickening. You felt a strange emptiness where the buzz of his presence had been, like a light had dimmed in the midst of the chaos. There was a knot of unease in your stomach, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if a sorority girl had managed to pull him away. Maybe he left to fill his cup again?

You continued to dance, but your mind raced as you tried to locate him amidst the sea of partygoers. It felt strange to be dancing without the thrill of knowing he was watching you, his eyes locked onto your every move. The energy shifted around you,

You continued to sway, lost in the rhythm, but your thoughts betrayed your movements, as they constantly drifted back to him. A flicker of unease tickled your spine, and you scanned the room carefully, as though searching for something lost. Couples swayed around you, bathed in hazy lights, their laughter rising and falling, but it all felt muted, as if you were underwater.

Finally, across the crowded room, you saw him. There, tucked into a dim corner, almost swallowed by shadows, he stood completely still—his form blending into the darkened edges of the room, but unmistakable. The low lights barely reached him, casting his face in shadow, the ghostly mask fixed directly on you, unmoving. You felt your pulse quicken, the air somehow thickening between you. You could almost feel his stare piercing through the mask, its empty eyes sockets shadowed but sharp, unblinking, like he was studying every inch of you from afar.

The usual warmth, the familiarity you felt around him, was replaced by something heavier, almost ominous. His broad shoulders were tense beneath his shirt, hands wedged deep into his pockets, fingers surely clenched inside them. His stance was rigid, no casual slouch, no playful smirk visible. The intensity radiated off him like a force field, magnetic yet vaguely menacing, making it hard to look away. It was as though he had transformed entirely, leaving behind the man you knew and morphing into something darker, something restrained yet ready to snap.

You felt a subtle shiver roll down your spine, the sensation chilling and unfamiliar. Couples pushed past him, leaning into each other, some lips brushing, others lost in soft murmurs and laughter. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as shift his weight. His presence was stark, still as stone, as if he were carved from marble and planted there solely to watch you.

You met his stare, the mask’s hollow eye sockets boring into you with unnerving fixation, and lifted your arms in a way, silently asking, Whats wrong?

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t even tilt his head or adjust his stance, his entire body coiled like a spring in perfect tension. The silence between you stretched taut, thick and electric, daring you to take a step toward him. The pulsing music around you felt distant, like a distant heartbeat, as his unyielding stare locked you in place. It was as though he was waiting, challenging you to bridge the distance between you, daring you to come closer and face whatever intensity simmered beneath that blank, chilling mask.

When he didn’t flinch, the pull to get closer, to see what was going on beneath that eerie stillness, became too strong to ignore. Your feet slowed, dancing forgotten as you anxiously picked at the skin around your nails. You pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies, brushing past dancers who were oblivious to the strange tension that had taken hold of you. Each step felt heavier than the last, and yet your gaze never wavered from where he’d been standing, where those hollow sockets had stared unblinking into yours.

You were nearly there, almost close enough to feel the chill radiating from his unmoving form, when a body slammed into your side, nearly knocking you off balance. “Fuck—shit, I’m so sorry,” a girl stammered. You stumble back as you found yourself face-to-face with a girl dressed as a zombie bride, her drink sloshing dangerously close to spilling.

“It’s so crowded in here!” she yelled, eyes wide as she gestured to the sea of people swaying and pressing in all around.

You forced a nod, eager to brush off the exchange and refocus. “It’s fine,” you started, but she’d already turned back to the party, her attention drifting off as quickly as she’d interrupted. With a sigh, you broke away from her, snapping your gaze back to the shadowed corner where Joe had been waiting.

But he was gone.

The empty spot where he had loomed only seconds before was now filled with the shifting silhouettes of strangers, and an uncomfortable emptiness settled over you, sinking into your chest. Somehow, the sight of him gone—the eerie mask that had pinned you down now vanished into the crowd—was more unsettling than the cold, silent stare he’d fixed on you from across the room. Your pulse raced, a trickle of unease threading through your mind as you searched the dim space around you, scanning every face, every mask, every darkened corner.

Where could he have gone? And why…why was the feeling of being watched still prickling over your skin?

You pivoted slowly, eyes darting to the edges of the room, half-expecting to feel his eyes on you again, to spot that distinctive mask somewhere in the shadows. But he was nowhere in sight. The crowd moved around you, oblivious, as your heart thundered louder than the beat of the music, and you couldn’t shake the sense that he was there, somewhere close, watching you with the same unnerving intensity—only now, cloaked in the anonymity of the crowd, hidden and waiting.

The pulse of the bass reverberated through the floor, but you could barely feel it over the pounding in your chest. Every face you scanned seemed to shift in and out of shadows, the distorted colors of flashing lights casting everyone in an eerie glow. Somewhere in this sea of people, he was watching you, lurking like a phantom just out of reach. You had been so sure of him a moment ago, a still figure on the edge of the chaos, but now…now it felt like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake the unsettling feeling as you continued your search. Each step you took felt heavier, and each second that passed with no sign of him seemed to heighten the tension pulling at your nerves. He had to be close, but the way he kept vanishing, slipping in and out of the shadows, made you question if this was intentional. Was he trying to get in your head, letting you feel the weight of his presence without ever allowing you to confront it directly?

Suddenly, you felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible touch on your shoulder. You whipped around, but the figure behind you was a stranger, just another face in the crowded haze. They looked at you with a confused smile before disappearing back into the crowd, “Sorry, wrong person,” leaving you standing there, feeling like you were losing control of the situation. 

The anticipation was building into something almost unbearable.

And then, as if conjured by your own thoughts, you saw him. The familiar white of his mask cut through the dimness like a beacon, standing halfway up the staircase on the far side of the room. He was framed by the dark, his broad shoulders blocking the light as he looked down at you as you stood in the middle of the dancing crowd, utterly still once again. The only indication of his intent was the slight tilt of his head, a gesture that sent a shiver through you, as if he were daring you to come to him.

The buzz of your phone pulled you in, and instinctively, you reached into your pocket. You didn’t even need to look at the caller ID; somehow, you already knew who it was. Raising it to your ear, you glanced up the staircase, locking eyes—or at least the hollow sockets of his mask—as you answered.

"Joe, what are you—"

His deep, familiar voice cut you off, rasping with that rough, playful edge that sent a chill down your spine. “‘What’s your favorite scary movie?’” He quotes.

A soft, sarcastic scoff escaped you. "Ha-ha. Very funny," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but your pulse was thrumming in your ears, and it felt like he could sense every reaction, every unspoken thrill.

On the other end, he chuckled darkly. Then, the line goes silent. He hung up.

Your feet moved before you could even think, drawn up the stairs with an urgency that felt both thrilling and terrifying. The people around you seemed to fade into the background, their laughter and chatter nothing but a distant hum as you ascended, keeping your gaze locked onto his. Each step closed the distance between you, but even as you approached, he didn’t move, didn’t shift—just waited, calm and composed, watching you with that unnerving intensity.

When you reached the top of the stairs, he took a step back, disappearing around the corner without a sound. You quickened your pace, following him down the dimly lit hallway, the hum of the party fading behind you until there was only silence. You rounded the corner, heart pounding, and saw him standing by an open door at the end of the hall, his mask tilted down as he looked at you. The way he stood, leaning slightly against the doorway, exuded a confidence that was both electrifying and unnerving.

He didn’t say a word, but his posture, the way his fingers tapped slowly against the doorframe, spoke volumes. As you blink, he slips into the dimly lit room.

You followed quickly, but not quick enough. You stepped into the room, the faint red glow of the LEDs casting an unsettling light over everything. The shadows seemed to cling to the corners, deepening every shape, making it hard to make out anything clearly. Before you could adjust, the door behind you slammed shut with a force that reverberated through your chest. You jumped, heart lurching as you whipped around, only to see him standing there, completely still.

“Joe, what the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, your voice tinged with a mixture of anxiety and bravado. The words came out sharper than intended, but it was the only way you could mask the sudden rush of nerves tightening in your chest.

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, silent, the hollow eyes of the Ghostface mask fixed on you. The eerie red light cast shadows over the contours of his face, masking any hint of his expression. That unblinking stare was both familiar and foreign, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity radiating off him was suffocating, something darker, more intense than his usual playful, cocky demeanor.

“Been watching me from around the building, like a creep,” you chuckled, hoping to break the tension, to shake off the uneasy feeling settling over you. But even as you laughed, you could feel the silence pressing down, heavier than before.

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t break eye contact. His broad frame filled the space by the door, his stance deliberate, unmoving—almost as if he was challenging you to make the next move. The tension grew thick, heavy in the small room, and every instinct in you screamed to keep your distance. But at the same time, there was something about him, the mystery cloaked behind that mask, that pulled you in, curiosity intertwining with thrill.

With every passing second, the atmosphere between you grew charged, every ounce of his attention trained solely on you.

You tugged the mask off your face, flinging it to the side as the rush of anxiety made it hard to breathe. The fabric had felt suffocating, clinging to your skin and amplifying the tension in the air. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. “Seriously, what are you—” you started, but your words faltered as he stepped closer, the sound of his boots echoing in the confined space.

Your breath quickened, instinctively prompting you to take a step back. The movement caught his attention, causing him to tilt his head slightly, a silent question etched into his posture. “This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice laced with uncertainty, the words barely cutting through the heavy atmosphere. The seriousness of the moment hung between you, and every instinct urged you to either confront him or flee.

The room felt smaller, the air thickening with unspoken tension as he continued to advance. Joe remained silent, his gaze locked onto yours, deep and piercing, as if he were weighing your very thoughts. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, a magnetic pull that left you torn between wanting to flee and being irresistibly drawn in.

“Joe…” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “can you just say something?” But still, he remained mute, a statue cloaked in the eerie glow of the dim red lights that bathed the room. Each step he took felt like a calculated move in a game you didn’t fully understand, and with every inch he closed between you, the heaviness in your chest intensified.

As you backed up against the bed, your knees hitting the edge, forcing you to sit. You could hear the muted sounds of the party still raging outside, laughter and music filtered through the door, a stark contrast to the palpable tension within this small space. You felt trapped, caught between the comfort of the familiar and the unknown danger that lingered just beyond Joe’s stoic facade.

“Why are you acting like this?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper, an edge of frustration creeping in. “What’s going on with you?” The silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Then, as if he had finally made a decision, Joe took another step forward, closing the distance until he was just inches away. He stood between your legs, forcing you to look up at his towering body. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity of his stare igniting something within you that was both thrilling and terrifying. “You’re scaring me,” you finally admitted, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of fear and something else entirely coursing through your veins.

In response, he deeply chuckles, slowly raising a hand, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, overwhelming the fear with a rush of anticipation. You held your breath, waiting for his next move, caught in the whirlwind of confusion and desire.

And then, finally, he leaned in closer, now face to mask with him, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I could take control if I wanted to,” He quotes from the earlier conversation. They now were both a challenge and a promise, hanging in the air like a dare. Your heart raced, the thrill of the moment spiraling as you met his gaze, both nervous and exhilarated, knowing that whatever was about to happen would change everything.

You hum, relaxing at his words, taking it as a joke. “Ah, I see what this is... trying to scare me into—” you begin, your voice playful, but before you can finish, he lunges forward, pushing you right back down, the force catching you completely off guard.

His response was instantaneous—an unyielding grip on your chin, pulling you to your feet with a force that made your breath hitch. The mask obscured his expression, but the power radiating from him was undeniable. He didn’t need words; his intentions were clear, and the silence only added to the charged atmosphere.

As he loomed over you, a smirk ghosted across your lips, emboldened by the thrill of the moment. “Is this all you’ve got?” you teased, your voice playful yet daring. “I thought Ghostface was supposed to be scary.”

With a sudden movement, he pushed you down to your knees, the cool surface beneath you contrasting sharply with the warmth of your body. Your heart raced, but beneath the layer of apprehension was an undeniable thrill, a rush of adrenaline that heightened your senses. Joe remained silent, but the way he stood over you, the mask framing his face, sent a wave of anticipation coursing through you.

With a firm hand on the back of your neck, guiding your mouth toward him. You felt the weight of his presence pressing down on you, and a mix of excitement and anxiety fluttered in your chest.

You hesitated for just a moment, the thrill of the chase now morphing into something deeper, more intimate. The mask felt almost suffocating, but you loved the way it concealed his identity, adding an element of danger to the encounter. With a teasing glint in your eyes, you leaned forward, brushing your lips against the outline of his jeans, feeling the heat radiating from him.

Joe’s breath quickened as you planted soft kisses along the fabric, a teasing game that made you smile inwardly. The tension crackled in the air, thick enough to taste, and you relished in the way he stood utterly still, the embodiment of patience and power. You let your hands wander, fingers grazing the outline of his hard length, your heart racing as you felt him respond to your touch.

Joe’s breath quickened, a low, primal sound that resonated deep within you as you planted soft, teasing kisses along the fabric of his jeans. Each kiss was deliberate, a playful challenge that made you smile inwardly, savoring the electric tension crackling in the air. It was thick enough to taste, intoxicating in its intensity, and you relished the way he stood utterly still, the embodiment of patience and power, every muscle in his body coiled like a tightly wound spring.

Your hands roamed freely, fingers grazing the outline of his hard length, a thrill racing through you as you felt him respond to your touch. His body was a map of desire, and with each gentle caress, your heart raced faster, pounding with anticipation.

“Heavy breathin’ already?” you teased, glancing up at him through your lashes. He only shook his head, an eerie smile hidden beneath the mask, as if to say you had no idea what was coming next. The air around you crackled with an unspoken promise of pleasure, an electrifying prelude to the intensity that lay ahead.

With a fluid motion, he threw his belt to the side, deftly undoing his jeans just enough to slip them down to mid-thigh. He freed his hard cock, and it was immediately clear he had been aroused for a while, his tip swollen and an angry red, glistening with precum that trickled down the length of his shaft. He held himself in his hand, the mask doing little to hide the way he watched you, his gaze deep and penetrating, a burning intensity that made you feel exposed and exhilarated.

As he brushed a thumb along your jawline, urging you forward, you looked up at him with a mix of defiance and desire, a heat blooming low in your belly. Your breath hitched when he pressed his cock against your face, fingers tangling in your hair, holding your head in place with a firm grip. You instinctively stuck your tongue out, allowing his length to glide along your skin, feeling the throbbing pulse against your tongue, eliciting a low, pleased hum from deep within you.

He commanded, his hum a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet authority in his tone ignited a fire deep within you, and you obeyed eagerly, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling the weight of his desire in your palm. He held your head firmly, guiding you with a mix of gentle and firm pressure, your senses heightened as you lost yourself in the rhythm, intoxicated by the taste of him.

With every flick of your tongue, you could feel him respond, the weight of his need pressing down on you, urging you to continue. The mask only added to the thrill, transforming him into something more than just Joe, amplifying the energy that crackled in the room.

As you took him deeper into your mouth, the world around you faded away, leaving only the intoxicating connection between the two of you. Joe’s breath hitched, the sound echoing in the dimly lit space as you began to work him, swirling your tongue around the tip, drawing deep, guttural moans from him that sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your core.

You pulled back momentarily, breathless, needing air as your lungs burned with the effort. But Joe was impatient; he seized this moment to grab your hands, pulling them into one of his as he snatched his belt from the bed. “Wha—” you gasped, your voice a mix of surprise and confusion as he quickly and roughly restrained your wrists with the leather strap. Now unable to touch him, he regained full control, and the thrill of surrender sent a shudder of excitement through you.

His hand found its way back to your hair, pulling harder than before, his fingers brushing against your pouting lips before delivering a sharp slap to your cheek. You gasped, the sting mingling with pleasure, and he took that opportunity to fill your mouth once more.

You had no way to control the pace or rhythm, but the sheer intensity of him face-fucking you sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He was relentless, his hips bucking into your face with a primal urgency, the sounds of your slurping and gagging filling the air, an erotic symphony that spurred him on. His masked face was thrown back in pleasure, lost in the sensations, before he looked back down at you, sending your heart racing.

You wished you could touch yourself right now, the simple sight of him looking down at you with that mask on enough to drive you wild. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, spilling down your chin and creating a mess at the base of his cock, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, smudging your mascara as you reveled in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Each thrust, each tug of your hair, felt like a testament to the power he held over you, and you surrendered to it completely, lost in the ecstasy of your shared desires.

He maintained a relentless pace, his grip on your hair firm and unyielding as he pushed you deeper into submission, blissfully indifferent to your struggle for breath. Each thrust sent waves of heat radiating through your body, a primal fire igniting within you that made your insides feel as though they were aflame. Just when you thought you might suffocate, he pulled you off him, leaving you gasping for air, your lungs desperate for that sweet, precious oxygen. Drool spilled from your lips, cascading down your chest, a testament to the pleasure and surrender that enveloped you.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, the word escaping your lips like a prayer. You were dizzy with the sensations, heart racing as he allowed you only a brief moment to catch your breath before he filled your throat again. The world around you blurred, and your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as your throat became his toy, completely at his mercy.

This side of Joe was new, a raw, dominant energy that was both thrilling and intoxicating. In the past, he had always seemed uncertain, hesitant to take control during your most intimate moments. But now, it was as if the mask he wore was more than just a costume; it was a shield that allowed him to hide behind his usual nerves, a way to amplify his confidence and assert himself in a way he hadn’t before.

You remembered the conversations you had shared—how he had confessed, “I’m dominant with everyone but you.” That admission lingered in your mind, an unsettling realization that filled you with confusion. Why did it bother you so much? You had always played the submissive role with other partners, just as he had with you. But now, as he took command with a fervor you hadn’t witnessed before, that unease twisted in your gut.

You recalled how you had teased him, calling him a scaredy-cat, insisting that he could never truly dominate you—that he was too submissive for that. And here he was, proving you utterly wrong, relishing every moment as he pushed you further into this electrifying dynamic. The way he pulled your hair, the sheer forcefulness of his movements, ignited something deep within you, a mix of exhilaration and desire that made you crave more.

As he continued to thrust, the sensation of being owned washed over you, overwhelming yet utterly thrilling. You never wanted him to stop. Each time he filled you, each gasp for air, intensified the connection between you. Joe was not just your bestfriend –who of course, you fuck– in this moment; he was a force of nature, a man embracing his desires with fervor, and you found yourself lost in the intoxicating blend of power and submission.

The thrill of surrendering to him, of letting him take control, was exhilarating. You were captivated by the way he dominated you, the way he wielded his power with confidence, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Joe twitched in your throat, a low, primal moan escaping his lips that sent shivers down your spine. It was a sound that resonated deep within you, urging you to take him deeper, to push the boundaries of pleasure. As you felt him stir, he reached behind you, grabbing your matching Ghostface mask from the bed with a decisive grip. In one swift motion, he pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, and slipped the mask onto your face, the cool material pressing against your skin, adding an exhilarating layer to the moment.

With your hands restrained, you had no choice but to kneel before him, your body a canvas for his desires. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and eager, watching as he pumped himself over your masked face, his knuckles white with tension. The sight of him, muscles taut and breathing heavy, was utterly captivating. Each movement was deliberate, showcasing his raw power and control as he hovered just inches from you, teasingly close.

“Come on, Mr. Ghostface,” You couldn’t help but slip in a quote from the movie, the words hanging in the air like a dare, “gonna cum on my face? Paint me pretty?” you taunted, your voice playful yet charged with desire. The challenge in your tone ignited something primal in him.

With that, he tossed his head back, a guttural groan escaping him as he reached his peak. Time seemed to stand still as he released himself, shooting thick, white streams of his load all over your mask. The sensation was surreal, the warmth of his essence landing on the cool surface of the mask, contrasting against your flushed skin. You could see the muscles in his stomach tense, the way his breathing hitched as he forced himself to pull his gaze back down to you, wanting to witness the act unfold.

His eyes were filled with a mix of pleasure and satisfaction as he coated your covered face, each pulse of his release a testament to the power he held over you. You reveled in the feeling, a rush of exhilaration washing over you as he made you his canvas,

It took Joe a moment to come down from the high of his release, his breaths still heavy and uneven as he regained his composure. But when he finally did, it was clear he was far from finished with you. The heat of his gaze intensified, a smoldering fire igniting within him as he ripped the mask from your face, exposing your tear-stained cheeks to the cool air.

The vulnerability in that moment was palpable, your emotions laid bare before him, and he reveled in it. His thumb swept across the mask, collecting remnants of his release, the sticky substance glistening in the low light as he brought it to your lips.

With a playful eagerness, you stuck out your tongue, a mixture of anticipation and delight flooding through you as you prepared to clean his fingers. Your heart raced as his thumb brushed against your lips, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the chill of the air around you.

Joe hummed in appreciation at the sight, the sound reverberating deep within you, sending a thrill through your core. As your lips wrapped around his digits, you felt an intoxicating mix of pleasure and submission wash over you. The sensation of his fingers sliding past your lips was electrifying, each swirl of your tongue around them eliciting a low groan from him.

You surrendered completely to the moment, the taste of him mingling with the remnants of his essence on your tongue, a delicious reminder of what had just transpired. The connection between you deepened as he watched you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

Just then, Joe pulled you to your feet with a roughness that took you completely by surprise. You had never imagined him to be capable of such raw strength, let alone to toss you around like a rag doll. But in a swift, commanding motion, he flipped you around, forcing you to bend over the edge of the bed. The unexpectedness of it all sent a thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your ass arched high for him, your face pressed into the soft fabric of the mattress, the scent of it intoxicating and grounding.

A squeal escaped your lips as he hooked his fingers into the delicate holes of your fishnets. With a quick, rough pull, you heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing—rip! The big hole he created in between on your thighs of your fishnets, your choice of no panties tonight leaving you exposed, your skin tingling in anticipation as his fingers found your dripping pussy. The sensation was electric as he collected your wetness, his fingers glistening with your arousal before he used it to coat himself.

The slickness between his fingers became a teasing balm, his hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove you wild. You had been craving this moment all night, ever since seeing him dressed in that tantalizing costume. As his tip pressed against your entrance, you gasped, a sound that echoed in the stillness of the room. He teased you, slowly pumping just the tip in and out, each movement igniting a fire deep within you, making your pussy ache with need.

Finally, with a rough snap of his hips, he filled you completely. "Oh! Fuckin' hell—" you cried out, the overwhelming sensation hitting you like a tidal wave. Your hands, still bound by his belt, struggled to grasp the sheets as your body instinctively wanted to pull him closer. He withdrew slowly, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward again with a force that sent shockwaves through you.

"Yes! Oh—God!" You could feel the tears prick at your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all. You were completely lost in the moment, every fiber of your being resonating with the pleasure he was giving you.

“Doin’ so good for me, ya know that?” he praised, his voice muffled by the mask he wore, yet the warmth of his tone seeped through, wrapping around you like a blanket. Your pussy throbbed with need as he grew more vocal, the facade of silence crumbling under the weight of your shared ecstasy. He had intended to keep things quiet and mysterious, but the sounds you elicited from him were impossible to suppress.

Each thrust drove him deeper into you, and as his breath quickened, you could feel the change in him. He wanted to maintain that air of quiet mystery, but the pleasure you gave him was too intense.

Your body quaked with every powerful thrust, the bed creaking under the weight of your shared pleasure. Joe filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming, each movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he growled with a loud— smack! His hand smacking your bouncing ass as he fills your pussy with his cold. His voice laced with dark amusement.

“Y-yes! Oh God, Joe, don’t stop!” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as you fought to keep your composure. Your heart raced with both pleasure and desperation, and you could feel the heat pooling deep within you, the pressure building with every forceful thrust.

“Come on, tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he commanded, his grip tightening in your hair, pulling you up slightly so your back arched your ass more, the dominance radiating off him like a fever. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please, I need you,” you whimpered, feeling the heat of his body against yours, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “I need more, Joe. Please don’t make me beg.”

He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a thrill through you. “Begging suits you, babe. Just like a good little slut.” The words ignited a fire within you, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal all at once. You whined, unable to hide the desperate need in your voice as your body instinctively arched against him, craving that intoxicating pressure. “Just… just give it to me! Please!”

With that, he snapped his hips forward again, driving deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot with ruthless precision. Your moan was muffled against the mattress, the sensations overwhelming as pleasure coursed through you, blending with the heat of humiliation. “Oh my God, s-so fuckin' big,” you gasped, the sensation building to a dizzying peak.

“Good girl,” he cooed, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he reveled in the power he held over you. “You want to come for me? Show me how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“YES! I want to come! Please, Joe! Please, please, please!” you cried, your desperation hanging thick in the air as he thrust into you harder, each movement sending you closer to the edge.

“Then let go for me,” he urged, his voice a low growl that reverberated through you. “I want to feel you come around me, babe. You’re nothing without me, are you?”

With a final thrust, he drove deep into you, and that was it. Your body exploded with pleasure, waves crashing over you as you cried out his name, tears streaming down your face. “Ah fuck! Gonna— Ohhh!”

As your orgasm washed over you, you felt him follow right behind you, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his heat. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, collapsing against you, his body jolting with the aftershocks of ecstasy.

“Look at you, crying like a little baby,” he mocked, his tone laced with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. “Them fratties own you? They fuck you this good?”

“No, no—” you moaned out breathless, still dizzy from your orgasm. “Mmhm, you’re nothing without me, are you?” His words were a command wrapped in an undeniable truth, and you found yourself shaking your head tiredly, breathless and vulnerable. “I’m yours,” you admitted without him having to ask, the confession spilling from your lips as easily as your tears.

As the last remnants of pleasure faded, Joe gently pulled out, then pulled you up from the bed, turning you to face him. He laid you fully on the bed, leaning over you, his gaze intense as he examined your fucked-out face. A smirk spread across his lips beneath the mask before he pulled it off for the first time that night, sweat glistening on his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin, cheeks flushed from exertion.

“Y/n,” he forced you to look at him, wiping away the hair plastered to your face with gentle fingers. “You okay?” His voice softened, concern threading through it as he studied your expression. The mask was off, and so was the facade.

“Fuckin…” you started, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, relishing the contrast of his roughness with this tender moment. The pause hung in the air, thick with uncertainty. Was he worried he’d been too rough? Had he hurt you? You had started crying, tears running down your face… did he go too hard?

“Fuckin’ perfect,” you smiled gently, your heart swelling as you saw the relief wash over his features. Joe let out a breath, chuckling softly, his tension easing as he realized you loved it just as much as he did.

“Didn’t… go too hard? Did I?” he asked, concern lingering in his tone.

"Honestly," you pause, a playful smile widening on your lips as you open your eyes to meet his bright blue ones, filled with a mixture of worry and intrigue. “Could’ve gone harder, you know… if you’re gonna be in control and all.” Your teasing tone drips with mischief, the challenge lingering in the air between you like a tantalizing promise. You knew damn well that there was nothing you would’ve changed about what just happened; he had just obliterated every expectation you had, leaving you breathless and craving more.

His expression shifts, surprise flashing across his features before a smirk breaks through. The way you played with him, the knowledge that compared to this moment, you had never truly dominated him before. You could see the wheels turning in his head, the realization that he’d held you in a way you never expected, leaving you utterly destroyed yet yearning for more.

“Is that so?” Joe’s voice dipped lower, confidence returning as his smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your lips. “You think you could handle me going harder?”

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, the tension crackling between you both. “Please, Joe. I’ve been waiting for you to show me just how rough you can get.” You relished in the playful challenge, knowing full well that there was nothing you would’ve changed about how he’d just taken control, how he’d completely dismantled you in the best way possible.

Joe’s brow arched, surprise flashing across his features, quickly replaced by a smirk that hinted at the predatory nature simmering just beneath the surface. “Is that a challenge?” His tone was laced with mischief, an unmistakable glint in his eyes that suggested he was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“Only if you're capable” you replied, your heart racing at the prospect of pushing him further, the thrill of what lay ahead electrifying the air around you. The aftermath of your shared moment pulsed between you, charging the atmosphere with an intoxicating mix of vulnerability and desire.

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I’m capable.” Each word was a promise, laced with the wild abandon that had defined your encounter, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

You chuckled softly, raising your hands, still restrained. “Can you free me first?” The playful challenge in your tone was evident, and Joe responded with a deep, knowing laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“If I take off the belt, I’m using it to smack your ass,” he warned, his tone low and teasing, a dark promise that made your pulse quicken. Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and eagerness washing over you at the thought.

With a swift motion, he released the belt from your wrists, the cool air hitting your skin where the leather had been pressed against you. He rubbed the marks gently, his touch both soothing and electrifying. You could feel the heat rising within you again, a mixture of anticipation and longing swirling as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin like a tantalizing caress.

“Just remember,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a deliciously wicked edge, “you asked for this.” The way he said it sent another thrill through you, every word steeped in promise and control.

With a fluid motion, he tossed your mask back to you, the fabric landing softly in your lap as he slipped his own back on, transforming into that dark, alluring presence that made your heart race. The sight of him, masked and powerful, ignited a fire inside you, and you felt an insatiable pull toward him, craving to delve deeper into this intoxicating dynamic that had emerged between you.

“Just don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface,” you teased, slipping the mask onto your face with a playful smirk, the familiar thrill of the quote sending a delicious shiver through you. He leaned over you, the two of you almost nose-to-nose, the tension crackling in the air between your bodies. Your masks touched, an electrifying connection, and his hand shot up, fingers curling around your throat with a firm but careful grip.“Why?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive murmur that made your skin prickle with anticipation. He tilted his head slightly, the movement both curious and predatory. “You wanna be in the sequel?”

Reblog, comment, and let me know your thoughts on this!

I rewrote this 2 times until I was happy enough with it and its still not my best work.

! This is fanfiction.

!! I do not own any pictures.

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @majestic87 @ijustcrypretty @meameagirl @joeyfranchise @jspit9. @munsonrry @iknowdatsrightbih @scarcisne @k9iriz @ozwriterchick @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @youronlysatnin @mysterycatsv @livzblogg @zzbrezz

[leahburreaux]

i suggest reading these yall :)

joe burrow masterlist

as a reminder, my blog is STRICTLY 18+!! i know i write some soft stuff, but i have written and will write smut again. thanks in advance!

requests are open!

* = smut

one-shots

only you*

sweet as sugar

to the runway*

baby bliss

flood gates

on your doorstep

bad day

late nights

babysitting

burnout

home to me

the one i run too

always a winner

take a breather

good enough

mini series

the view between villages pt. 1

coming soon!

polaroids*

the view between villages pt. 2

only an hour*

slip of the finger

[leahburreaux]

Anticipation VII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This is the seventh fic in the Anticipation mini-series.

Time/Place: Sunday, September 8, 2024 - Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: This fic covers the week 1 loss to the Patriots with a quick spooky season flashback to Halloween last year. I meant to get this up earlier, but real life had other ideas.

Inspo pic:

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, September 8, 2024 - Cincinnati, Ohio

You wave at Joe's parents as they reverse out of your driveway and drive off down the street, watching their car disappear around the corner before slowly closing the front door; you take a deep breath as you lean back against it, the tension humming through your body like electricity through a high-voltage wire.

"Fuck," you eventually mutter, pushing away from the door and heading for the stairs, craving a hot shower to wash away the stress sweat caused by a week 1 loss to the Patriots.

"The fucking Patriots," you grumble, turning the shower on to heat up before stripping your clothes off.

Several minutes later, you step out of the shower and grab a towel, drying off as you think back to the game…

~ ~ ~

You were glad it was an early game, sparing you at least some of the nervous energy that always builds up as you anxiously await kickoff. The Jungle was rocking with fans hyped to see their franchise QB play his first game since suffering a wrist injury last November. Joe looked amazing in the all-orange uni, his body language and expression confident as he ran out of the tunnel to thunderous applause.

The vibes were immaculate… until they weren't. Both teams came out flat and uninspired with the Bengals offense never getting into a good rhythm. An overturned touchdown -- followed by a goal line fumble that was recovered by the Patriots -- pretty much set the tone for the game. The result was a 16-10 loss to a team the Bengals should've easily beaten.

After the game, Joe was distracted and a bit gruff when he greeted you and his parents. He made a stank face when his mom told him he played a good game, then he gave you a quick hug and kiss before letting you know he wouldn't be home for a few hours.

"I'm gonna call a meeting with the coaches and captains," he muttered, making eye contact with you for a second before dropping his gaze to his feet. "I'm not sure what time I'll be home," he continued. "It'll be a couple of hours. I'll just grab something to eat here."

You waited for him to raise his gaze back up to yours; when that didn't happen, you stepped closer and stood on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss against his sweaty cheek before speaking. "Take your time. I'll be waiting for you at home."

He finally shifted his thousand-yard stare from the floor and focused on your smiling face. "Thanks, babe," he murmured, clearing his throat and running a hand through his platinum buzz cut. "Listen, I don't wanna talk about the game when I get home, okay?" he asked, a hint of warning in his voice -- a voice that was hoarse from shouting plays. "I mean… I'm gonna talk it to death with the guys for the next couple of hours, so I don't wanna do a repeat performance when I get home."

"I'll give you whatever you need when you get home," you answered, your voice a little more breathless than you intended. Blame it on the pheromones you thought to yourself, drunk on the smell of his sweat and how ridiculously good he looked in his uniform.

He raised an eyebrow at your breathless promise, a hint of a smirk gracing his pretty lips as you spun around and headed for the exit, walking beside his parents for several steps before looking back over your shoulder. He was still standing where you left him, his eyes glued to you, the look on his face sending a sizzle of anticipation down your spine.

~ ~ ~

You shake your head at the vivid memory, equal parts aroused and anxious as you ponder what type of mood he'll be in when he finally gets home tonight. "Probably aggravated as hell," you mutter, tossing your towel in the hamper before walking into your closet to get dressed.

You pull on a pair of black lace panties before flicking through an entire row of Joe's t-shirts, looking for something a little different, the hangers making an annoying noise against the clothes rod as you whip them to the side one-by-one. You heave a sigh as you reach the end of the row, a flash of red in the far corner making your eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh," you whisper, stepping closer to the corner shelf that's mostly obscured by Joe's impressive t-shirt collection. "I forgot about this," you continue, lifting a long red wig off of a wig stand, your lips curling up in a naughty smile as you think back to Halloween last year…

~ ~ ~

Halloween fell on a Tuesday last year, two days after the Bengals beat the 49ers 31-17 on the road. It was a statement win; a win that put folks on notice that Joe was almost completely over his calf injury; a win that won him AFC Offensive Player of the Week.

Beating the 49ers -- one of the best teams in the league -- on their home turf put the entire team in a festive mood, so you and several other WAGS threw together a last minute Halloween party hosted at your house. The house was already decked out in Halloween decor because it was one of your fav holidays, so it didn't take much to get the place party ready.

You ordered an obscene amount of catered food and hired two bartenders, then you asked your guests to bring a bag of their fav candy (individually wrapped) to share. As they arrived, you poured their candy into an oversized witch cauldron, mixing it all together and laughing when it eventually got so full it spilled over and piled up on the table. Quite a bit of it was already gone halfway through the party. What was left was playfully fought over by the guys as if it were the last candy in existence.

There was an intense blackjack tournament to decide who got the last of the Reese's cups (Joe won, of course) and an even more intense ping-pong tournament to decide the ultimate fate of a hearty pile of caramel apple suckers (yep, Joe again). After some good-natured grumbling about getting stuck with the Laffy Taffy and Skittles, the last of your guests finally shuffled off into the night, designated drivers sliding into driver's seats as you and Joe waved to them from the front porch.

You eventually closed the door and turned to face Joe; he was (reluctantly) dressed in the Batman costume you bought for him (basically a long-sleeve black t-shirt with the Batman logo and a pair of black sweatpants -- he refused to wear the mask and cape that came with his costume). You were dressed as Poison Ivy (long red wig, shiny green stilettos, and a shimmery green wrap dress just long enough to cover the tops of your green fishnet thigh-highs).

"You promised you'd let me have a little fun with you when everyone left," you reminded him, the two blood orange margaritas you imbibed during the party making you feel a bit tipsy as you headed for the stairs, an exaggerated swish in your hips and a naughty smile on your face as you heard him following right behind you.

You eventually made your way into your master bathroom and pointed at the chair in front of your make-up mirror. "Sit," you ordered, quickly stripping his t-shirt off as he followed orders. "I wanna put a little eyeliner on you," you stated, spinning him around to face you and utilizing a thick black eyeliner on him while he grumbled in protest. "You look hot as fuck," you groaned as you finished up, delicately smudging the shimmery lines with a fingertip before dropping a quick kiss on his lips. "We just need the finishing touch," you continued, giving him a wink before hurrying into the closet and returning with the cape he dropped there earlier, clasping it around his neck as he gave you a skeptical look.

"I look stupid as fuck," he mumbled, checking his reflection in the mirror before making a stank face and dropping his gaze to his feet. "You look amazing," you purred, admiring the way the black cape framed his bare chest. "Like total sex on legs," you continued, giggling at his derisive snort before leaning back against the bathroom counter and reaching both hands down to pull your dress up, exposing the temporary tattoos you applied earlier. You smiled when his eyebrows shot up at the sight of the ivy vines encircling your thighs just above the top of your thigh-highs.

"Oh shit," he breathed, his long fingers immediately caressing the tats, the look in his eyes so dirty it made your knees weak. "You were hiding these all night?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I wanted to save something just for your eyes only," you finished, letting out a whimper when he stood up and easily picked you up, his big hands hot against your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist and buried your face in his fragrant neck.

In a few long strides y'all were in the bedroom, your pulse hammering in your chest as he laid you on the bed. He stripped naked while you watched him closely, ridding himself of his shoes, socks, sweatpants and undies before reaching for the cape clasp.

"Leave the cape on," you ordered, giving a breathless giggle when he gripped your waist and pulled your ass to the edge of the bed; you pushed up onto your elbows to get a better look as he dropped to his knees between your spread thighs, the look on his face letting you know it was gonna be a long night.

~ ~ ~

A shiver of arousal flows through you as you snap back to the present. "That was a very long night," you whisper, biting your bottom lip as a naughty idea forms in your mind.

You plop the wig back on its stand before making a beeline to the lingerie chest in your closet, opening the bottom drawer and rummaging around for a minute before pushing it closed and opening the one right above it. A big grin graces your lips when you pull out the small bag holding the leftover temporary tats from last Halloween.

"Yes!" you holler, looking at the bag like it's a winning lottery ticket. You quickly pull out the ivy vine tats, realizing that you used about 2/3 of them last year so you'll have to do something different. "Okay… yeah… call an audible," you murmur, walking back into the bathroom and laying them on the counter. "I can work with this," you muse, your mind running through progressions of the best way to work with what you have. "Kind of like Joe running through progressions on the football field," you mutter, immediately giggling at the ridic comparison.

"Focus," you state, quickly deciding that you have enough to wrap both ankles but not both thighs. "Or maybe one ankle and… something else?" you ponder, your eyes flicking up to look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Ohhh, def a nipple," you grin, grabbing your scissors and cutting the ivy vines into a few pieces.

Twenty minutes later, you put the finishing touches on the boob tat, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as you check your reflection in the mirror, admiring the way the ivy snakes up the inside of your left breast and partially wraps around your nipple. "He's gonna love this," you whisper, throwing a quick look at the ivy vine wrapped around your right ankle before heading back into your closet to get dressed.

"Can't wear my Poison Ivy costume," you murmur, remembering how he'd absolutely wrecked your dress and thigh-highs. "That's not the only thing he wrecked. I was def walking funny the next day," you giggle, biting your lip as you mentally replay the highlight reel of filthy sex y'all had that night.

You eventually give your head a shake to chase away the sensual images. "Pull it together," you whisper, quickly checking the clock before shrugging on a seafoam green silk shorty robe; you tie the slinky belt before snatching the long red wig off of its stand. "I'm gonna be lazy with this. No wig cap," you mutter, walking back into the bathroom and tossing the wig on the counter before gathering your hair into a low ponytail.

You pull the wig on and throw in a few bobby pins, smoothing the red locks as they fall in loose waves all the way down to your waist. You check your reflection from all angles before giving a nod as you drop into the chair in front of your make-up mirror, quickly applying a dramatic, smoky eye and a generous swipe of red lip stain before winking at your reflection and heading downstairs.

You're having second thoughts before you even hit the bottom stair. "This is nuts," you mutter. "What the hell am I thinking?" You quickly make your way into the living room as your pulse kicks into overdrive, hardcore second-guessing yourself as you rush around grabbing candles and setting them on the coffee table and side tables. "This is crazy," you groan, plopping down on the black leather sofa as you ruminate over all the ways this shit could go sideways. "He might want to go directly upstairs to his office to watch film and sulk," you state, taking a deep breath as your mind races.

In the years you've been with Joe -- going all the way back to LSU -- he's always been a bit unpredictable with the way he handles losses. Sometimes he seems unaffected or only mildly aggravated; other times he's obviously frustrated and withdrawn, shutting himself in his office to watch game film until the football demons that are vexing him have been exorcised to his satisfaction. One thing you've learned is to let him set the tone and not take it personally if he needs some space before coming to you for comfort.

"And yet here I am ready to ambush him the second he walks in the door," you scoff. "He's gonna take one look at me and think I've lost my damn mind."

You're about two seconds away from scurrying back upstairs to whip off your wig and scrub off your OTT make-up when a thought hits you. "Maybe he really needs a distraction tonight," you breathe. "Something to take his mind off of that awful game."

"Or maybe I'm delulu as hell," you chuckle, hopping up to grab a stick lighter, an interesting thought forming in your mind as you light the candles you've amassed in the living room. "What if I pretend to be a high-end escort?" you muse. "I mean, he really enjoyed the impromptu role-play when he surprised me with the platinum buzz cut. Sooo… yeah… maybe a little filthy role-play is just what he needs tonight?"

You light the last candle just as another wave of doubt hits you. "This is 100% crazy," you grimace, tossing the lighter aside as your logical mind tries desperately to overrule what your horny body is begging for. "But what if he's really into it?" you ponder, weighing the pros and cons for several heartbeats before making a decision.

"Fuck it! I'm going for it," you mutter, reaching under your shorty robe to shimmy your panties down your legs, shoving them under a sofa cushion before immediately having second thoughts. "That's a bad idea," you grumble, reaching a hand out to retrieve your panties just as the garage door opens. "Oh shit!" you hiss, snatching your hand back and bouncing up and down several times as you wait for Joe to walk into the room. This is either the worst idea or the best idea, you think to yourself. I'm about to find out.

You listen to him drop his bag in the hallway before shutting and locking the door, his footsteps heavy as he rounds the corner and heads for the stairs. "I'm in here," you chirp, your pulse hammering as you watch him turn toward you, his long strides eating up the distance between you in mere seconds.

"Are you having a séance?" he snarks, taking in the massive amount of flickering candles, the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. "No," you murmur, chewing on your bottom lip as he stops about a foot away from you, the inquisitive look on his face making you feel equal parts silly and sultry as he gives you a slow once-over. You return the favor, looking him up and down, his broad shoulders and muscular chest stretching his t-shirt in a way that makes your mouth water.

"What's going on here?" he eventually asks, his husky voice sending a sizzle of heat through you. You swallow hard and lick your lips as you try to think of what to say. Your entire body feels overheated just looking at him, all of your pleasure points throbbing in unison as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other a couple of times, his swaying hips drawing your gaze like a moth to a flame.

When you finally manage to drag your attention back to his face, your breath catches in your throat at the way he's looking at you -- like an apex predator sizing up his prey. You take a deep breath and stick a hand out toward him. "I'm Ivy," you blurt, wishing you sounded a little more sure of yourself as he stares at you, his striking blue eyes unblinking as he shifts his gaze from your face…down to your hand…then back up to your face.

The silence stretches out for so long that you're pretty sure he's annoyed or just plain uninterested. This was a bad idea, you think to yourself, pulling your outstretched hand back, a gasp escaping your lips when he quickly shoots a hand forward and grasps yours.

"I'm Joe," he murmurs, his sinful lips curling up in a grin as he encases your hand in his much larger one. He holds on longer than normal for a typical handshake before slowly pulling back, his long fingers caressing your palm in a way that kicks off a hot, pulsing need between your thighs.

"I know who you are," you whisper, clearing your throat before continuing. "Your…ummm…friend that hired me said you had a bad day at work today, and you need a distraction."

"Hired you?" he mutters, his eyes raking up and down your body again as takes a step closer. "Hired you for what?"

"Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" he repeats, giving you a cheeky grin before continuing. "What if I wanna watch you juggle bowling balls?" he asks, his contrarian sense of humor on full display. You don't miss a beat before answering. "I don't think I have the upper body strength for that, but maybe we can compromise." You lower your gaze to his crotch before continuing. "Maybe you have another set of balls you'd like me to juggle?"

His snort of laughter draws your gaze back up to his face, the genuine smile gracing his pretty lips letting you know your distraction is working. "How can I say no to that?" he asks, giving you a wink before dropping to his knees at your feet. "Nice tat, Ivy," he purrs, running one long finger over the ivy vine snaking around your right ankle, his eyebrows heading toward his hairline when his touch causes chill bumps to rise on your skin. "You have chill bumps," he states. "Are you cold?" he asks, still caressing your leg as he captures your gaze, his knowing look telling you he already knows the answer to his question. "No, I'm actually really hot," you admit, your pulse reacting to the carnal promise in his eyes.

You stare at each other for several heartbeats, the sexual tension thick between you before you finally break the silence. "So you like my tat?"

"Yeah, it's very sexy," he murmurs.

"I have another one," you admit.

"Where?"

You pull your robe open just enough to show a peek of the ivy tattoo on your left breast, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in your stomach as he stands up and traces a finger up the vine, following it as it curls around your nipple, his eyes immediately capturing yours at the sharp gasp you let out when his finger brushes your sensitive nub.

His icy blue eyes darken with lust as he reads your body language; he slowly licks his lips and lowers his head, using his tongue to trace the ivy vine before sucking your nipple into his mouth, the hot velvet feel of his tongue on your sensitive peak causing an instant flood of wetness between your thighs.

"It was a bad idea to go commando," you breathe, not quite certain you said it out loud until he pulls off of your nipple and makes eye contact with you. "Why?" he asks. "You know why," you answer, squeezing your thighs together. A growl low in his throat has another gush of liquid heat infiltrating your core as he presses his lips against your ear. "Anything off limits?" he asks. "Just don't pull my hair," you state, dizzy with desire as he steps back and strips his tight t-shirt off, dropping it on the floor, his eyes never leaving yours as he finishes stripping naked.

His thick, muscular thighs flex as he lowers himself onto the leather sofa, his wide manspread drawing your gaze. "Come here," he urges, watching closely as you step between his spread thighs; he gives you a feral look as he reaches out and unties the slinky belt holding your robe closed. "Take it off," he orders, his hungry gaze devouring the sight of your naked body as you do his bidding.

He reaches out and wraps his hands around your waist, simultaneously pulling you closer while sliding his hands down over the plush curve of your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that makes your toes curl. "I need to taste you," he groans, pressing a kiss on your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You grip his broad shoulders as he pulls off of your clit and lowers his head, lapping at your slick folds while teasing your clit with his thumb, pleasure steadily building inside you as he works his carnal magic.

"I'm so close," you whisper, your knees shaking when he latches his pretty lips back onto your clit, his cheeks hollowing out from the suction as he slides one long finger inside you, teasing you with it for a few strokes before adding a second. He continues to suck your clit while hitting your sweet spot with his agile fingers, the sounds of your pleasure loud in the quiet room as you come apart.

Your knees immediately give out and he holds you up, slowly lowering you down to the floor between his thighs as you gasp for breath. "Damn," you finally wheeze. "Sorry I came so fast."

"No need to apologize," he grins. "That was hot as fuck."

You take a few more steadying breaths before your vision comes fully back into focus; it takes about two seconds for you to realize you're eye level with his impressive erection. "Let me return the favor," you whisper, licking your lips while enjoying the view. His fully-erect cock is a sight to behold -- long, thick and veined -- absolutely beautiful just like the rest of him. I can't wait to run my tongue over every single vein, you think to yourself. But first…

You lean forward, making eye contact with him as you lightly lick and suck his balls while ghosting your fingertips over his erection, humming in approval when he rolls his hips up into your touch. "You like that?" you ask, being a little more aggressive as he grinds against you. "Yeah," he grits out, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust as you tease him for several minutes before working your mouth up from his balls to his cock.

You circle your tongue around his tip a few times, relishing the purely masculine taste of his precum before tracing your tongue over the prominent vein that runs the length of his shaft, all the way down then back up, a gush of saliva rushing into your mouth when you finally take him deep.

His long fingers dig into the flesh of his thick thighs as you work him in all the ways you know he loves, pulling off of him every minute or so to talk absolute filth to him, about how good he feels, smells and tastes on your tongue.

"I'm gonna cum too fast if you keep this up," he eventually groans, clearly enjoying the sight of his thick shaft pumping between your slick red lips, hissing in pleasure when his tip hits the back of your throat and pushes deeper, your throat convulsing around him.

"Fuck, baby, you gotta ease up. I don't wanna cum yet," he moans, dropping his head back against the leather sofa, eyes sliding closed as you work him a little easier, his exposed throat drawing your gaze. God, he's gorgeous, you think, your eyes going wide when he snaps his head back up. "Stop," he says. "I wanna do something different."

You pull off of him and wipe your mouth, watching closely as he stands up and walks behind you, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you closer to the sofa. You lean forward, pressing your arms and chest against the black leather cushion as he drops to his knees behind you. "Put your hands behind your back," he orders. "Wait, what?" you ask. "Hands behind your back," he repeats. "Like you're being handcuffed."

You do his bidding, crossing your wrists behind your back, your eyes going wide when you feel him tying something slinky around them. My robe belt, you think, pulling against the knot once he's finished.

"Does that feel okay?" he asks. "Yeah," you whisper, the vulnerable position -- on your knees with your hands tied behind your back, face and chest pressed against the sofa cushion -- sending a sizzle of anticipation rushing through you.

"Good," he purrs, dropping his head down almost to the floor before slowly dragging his tongue up the back of your left thigh, nipping and sucking the plump swell of flesh where your ass meets the top of your thigh, using his teeth, lips and tongue in a way that has you moaning and squirming against him before he repeats the action on your other thigh. "You like that?" he asks. "Yes, sir," you moan, your pulse reacting when he plants his big hands on your ass and spreads you open.

He licks a long stripe through your drenched folds, from your clit to your ass, his throaty groans sending vibrations deep inside you as he repeats the slow, sensual action over and over. "You taste so good, baby," he breathes, fluttering his tongue over your clit before plunging it inside your slit, the hint of stubble on his pretty face adding an extra layer of sensation as he tongue-fucks you. You whimper and moan as he works his magic on you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips when he drags his tongue up to your ass, fluttering over the tight ring of muscle. "Relax," he purrs, gently licking you as you writhe beneath him.

"Look at me," he eventually orders, waiting for you to look back at him over your shoulder before gathering a load of spit in his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he unleashes a stream of spit that hits your lower back just below where your tied wrists are resting.

The spit slowly runs down between your cheeks, and you bite your lip when you feel the pad of his thumb gently rubbing it against your tightly clenched hole, pressing but not quite penetrating you as he lines his cock up with your entrance. He sinks inside you, balls deep, waiting a few heartbeats before starting to thrust, the contrast between his cock thrusting in your pussy and his thumb gently teasing your ass making you lightheaded with desire.

You bury your face against the sofa cushion and arch up into his thrusts, not able to get any leverage to fuck back against him since your hands are tied behind your back. He has total control of the pace and you love it and hate it at the same time. You squeeze your eyes closed and gasp for breath, overcome by the sounds of your shared pleasure -- skin slapping together as he sets a punishing pace.

You know it's game over as soon as he drops his free hand down to tease your clit, gently playing with it for a couple minutes before giving you the perfect amount of pressure to set you off; you come apart underneath him, your entire body shuddering with the force of the intense climax. He let's out a low, throaty moan as your walls pulsate around his cock, your liquid pleasure dripping down his balls as he continues to thrust. "Fuck!" he grits out, his hands gripping your hips as his rhythm becomes erratic, his husky voice speaking filthy praise as you whimper his name, both of you groaning when he buries himself deep and drenches your core with his release.

You stay locked together for several minutes, his slowly softening cock still deep inside you as you both pant hard to catch your breath. He eventually unties your wrists and pulls out of you, both of you hissing at the delicious friction. You feel like a limp noodle as he gently picks you up and sits you on the sofa before striding into the guest bathroom; he comes back with a damp cloth and cleans you up, his gaze tender but his smirk more than a little smug. You decide to fuck with him.

"Joe Burrow," you coo, giving him a smirk to match the one he's sporting. "I can't believe you're out here eating escort ass," you taunt. "Prob should've had me sign an NDA, you nasty motherfucker," you continue, hitting him with a cheeky grin when his eyebrows fly up. "Nasty motherfucker?" he repeats, laying the cloth on the glass-topped side table. "Did I hear that right?"

"I didn't stutter," you chirp, twirling a red curl around one finger and giving him an unbothered shrug when he narrows his eyes at you.

"I know you're squeaky clean," he argues.

"How do you know that?" you ask, flashing a bratty grin. "You don't know me."

He studies your face for several seconds before speaking. "You trying to rile me up?"

"Maybe."

"Say it again," he orders, leaning closer until his lips are an inch away from yours, his blue eyes flashing with a predatory glint. "I dare you."

"Nasty… Mother… Fucker," you purr, squealing as he plops down beside you on the sofa and quickly pulls you face down across his thighs, delivering a couple of smacks to your plump ass. "Oww!" you holler, your laughter muffled by the sofa cushion as he rubs his hand over your butt cheek. "Quit being so dramatic," he scolds playfully. "There's no way that actually hurt."

You climb off of his lap and stand up, hands on your hips as you give him your best pouty look.

"Are you pouting?" he asks.

"I'm trying," you grumble, sticking your tongue out at him before walking around the living room and blowing out all but one of the candles. "I know I don't pout as good as you, but then again, nobody pouts as good as you."

"I never pout," he pouts, poking that full bottom lip out while giving you the sad puppy eyes.

"You're doing it right now," you state.

"Am not," he argues.

"Then what's this?" you ask, reaching a hand out to tweak his pouty bottom lip.

He immediately sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, rolling his eyes at your triumphant smirk. "Shut up," he mumbles. "You don't know me," he continues, echoing your earlier words.

"I know one thing for sure," you gloat, blowing out the final candle and trying to keep your body language nonchalant as you walk out of the living room and take a few steps toward the staircase.

"What's that?" he asks, reaching a long arm out to flick on the lamp on the side table before turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, his body language relaxed as he stays sitting on the sofa.

You do a quick mental calculation. It'll take him at least 3 or 4 steps to make it around the end of the sofa, plus he'll have to be careful not to stub his toe on the side table. Does that give me enough of a lead?

"What's the one thing you know for sure?" he demands, standing up and turning to face you, his eyes taking on that familiar predatory glint as you continue to ease toward the staircase.

Okay, there's at least 15 yards between us, you think to yourself. Plus the big-ass sofa. That's a good enough head start. "I know you're a nasty motherfucker!" you yell, your mouth dropping open in surprise when he reaches forward and places a hand on the back of the sofa, smoothly vaulting over it before hitting the ground running, quickly making up half the distance between you before you manage to spin around and sprint for the stairs.

You make it halfway up the stairs before he catches you, his big hands wrapping around your waist and easily lifting you up. "Fuck! I always forget how fast you are!" you yelp, giggling as he strides into the bedroom and tosses you face down on the bed, careful not to put his entire weight on you as he follows you down.

"Sneaky fast," he gloats. "Now apologize."

"For what?"

"For calling me a nasty motherfucker."

"I meant it as a compliment."

"Bullshit," he scoffs. "You were trying to rile me up."

"Did it work?" you tease, grinding your ass up against him.

"Hell yeah! Now apologize."

"Sorry for riling you up, daddy," you purr, a dirty grin on your face as he easily flips you over onto your back. "How can I make it up to you?" you ask, arching up against him in a way you know will turn him on.

"How do you think?" he growls, his eyes locked on yours as he crawls between your spread thighs, a groan of approval escaping his mouth when you reach down and palm his erection, sliding his tip through your slick folds a few times as he presses his lips against your ear.

"You ready to go another couple of rounds tonight?" he asks, his hot breath in your ear causing your core to contract.

"Yes, sir," you whimper, wrapping your legs around him as he slowly impales you with his thick cock.

~ ~ ~

Several hours later, you wake up and realize you're alone in bed. You check the clock on the bedside table -- 3:33 a.m. -- before easing out of bed, your body deliciously sore from the sensual work-out Joe gave you earlier.

You walk into your en suite bathroom and take a quick pee before pulling on a pair of panties and one of Joe's t-shirts, making a stank face at your reflection in the mirror. Your post-wig bedhead looks pretty rough. You give a shrug and spin around, heading out the door to go find your man.

You hear muted football noises coming from his office, and you push the door open just enough to peek inside, biting your lip as he grumbles at whatever play he's watching. You think you're being totally stealthy, but he immediately whips his head toward you, grinning at your sheepish look. "Didn't mean to disturb you," you mumble. "I'll leave you alone."

"No, come in," he urges, patting his thick thighs as you do his bidding. "Sit," he orders, pausing the football action on his screen as you ease onto his lap, very aware that all he's wearing is a pair of black boxer briefs.

"Am I allowed to ask how your wrist feels?" you whisper, smiling at his throaty laugh.

"Of course you're allowed to ask," he states. "It feels good. It was a little tight at first, but we expected that. Continually stretching it while on the sideline def helped keep it warm and loose." He wrinkles his pert nose before speaking up again. "I just wish I played better."

"That was the first time you threw a football in a true game situation in ten months," you soothe.

"Yeah," he nods, chewing his bottom lip while giving a shrug. "My touch will improve as I throw it more. I really wish I'd taken more preseason snaps."

"But conservative-ass Coach Taylor thought that was a bad idea," you snort.

"I should've overruled him."

"You have my permission to overrule him anytime you want."

"Thanks, babe," he chuckles, his expression turning serious as he pulls you closer. "Having you by my side during the wrist rehab made it so much easier. You know exactly when I need comfort and when I need space. You've had a lot of practice at that, unfortunately, since my ass stays getting hurt."

You run a hand through his velvety hair and press a kiss on his cheek. "You've been through a lot in the last few years, and you always come back stronger than ever. I'm looking forward to watching you remind everybody just how fucking amazing you are."

"That'll have to wait until next week," he mutters, giving you a playful grimace.

"Tonight was just the first step forward," you state. "I know you had some worries about getting hit and falling on the wrist; worries about whether you could spin the ball the way you wanted under pressure. You had positive outcomes on both of those, so that's fewer things to worry about going forward. And, make no mistake, you looked absolutely amazing."

"You always think I look amazing."

"Guilty as charged," you grin, dropping a kiss on his lips just before he graces you with a huge yawn. "Right now you look a little sleepy," you tease.

"I'm a lot sleepy," he mutters, yawning again while shutting down his computer. "Take me to bed."

"Yes, sir," you whisper, standing up and holding a hand out to him, leading him out of his office and down the long hallway to your bedroom, stripping your shirt off before joining him in bed. Y'all immediately assume your fav sleeping position -- his big spoon to your little spoon, his arm curling around your waist as he pulls you against him, your back to his chest.

You take a deep breath and clasp a hand over his, lacing your fingers together as he pulls you tighter against him. "I love you," he whispers, the earnest tone of his voice causing your eyes to well up with happy tears. "I love you, too," you answer, squeezing his hand as he drops a kiss on the nape of your neck.

After a few minutes of silence, he speaks up again. "You still awake?"

"Yeah."

"What gave you the idea to do the role-play tonight?"

"I saw that wig when I was trying to pick out a shirt to wear, and that got me thinking about the ridiculously hot sex we had last Halloween. I convinced myself you needed that kind of distraction when you got home tonight. I came super close to talking myself out of it since I know you like to be alone sometimes after a loss."

"I'm glad you didn't talk yourself out of it because it was the perfect distraction. Totally took my mind off of that shitty game."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it."

After another minute of silence, he clears his throat and continues. "Sooo, are you gonna do that every time we lose?"

"Do what? Pretend to be a high-end escort?"

"Yeah… or just… dress up in something naughty?"

"Like trashy lingerie?"

"Yeah. Or maybe something like…"

"Like what?"

The silence stretches out for a bit before he answers, his tone equal parts sensual and sheepish. "Like a cowboy hat and assless chaps?"

"You've been watching too much porn," you snark.

"I have not!" he argues, taking a deep breath to continue.

You cut him off before he gets a chance. "Calm down, babe. I'm just teasing."

"You better be teasing," he grumbles.

"Are you pouting?"

"No."

"Tell the truth."

"Okay, maybe a little."

You smile at his playful, pouty tone, your body relaxing against his as he lets out a yawn. "Goodnight, sleepyhead," you whisper.

"Goodnight," he echoes.

A minute passes before he speaks back up. "Do you still have your high school cheerleader uni?"

"Go to sleep, horndog," you order. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder before going still.

After a few minutes, you feel his body relax and his breathing even out, a smile gracing your lips when you join him in sleep a few heartbeats later.

[leahburreaux]

[leahburreaux]

joe i think ur like 2 months late but its okay pookie

[leahburreaux]

i screamed for a fact!

i’m going to make you scream* - joe burrow x reader

summary: joe has to protect what's his.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: smut (18+!), protective joe, drinking, cursing, not read over

a/n: omg hey guys. sorry i disappeared again LMAO. enjoy this blurb that i threw together at the last minute.💖 also, shoutout to my queen @starsinthesky5 who helped me with some of the ideas 😛

——

“I might have to put you into overalls more often,” you said as your arms looped around Joe’s neck, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “This outfit is really doing something to me.”

“Oh yeah? Mario?” Joe chuckled, looking down at his outfit. He was clad in jean overalls, a red t-shirt, and a red hat with a “M” on the front. When you and Joe got invited to the Bengals Halloween party, you and Joe went back and forth for a week about what costume you guys would be showing up in. Joe finally had a light bulb moment one night when you guys were playing Super Smash Bros in bed. “If we wouldn't be late, I’d have to take this Princess Peach outfit off you right now.”

You glanced down at your own outfit. You were adorning a baby pink corset top, hot pink skirt, white tights and gloves, and a gold crown on the top of your head. You also had a gold necklace and earrings in; both of them having a blue gem in them. “If you’re good tonight, maybe I’ll let you take it off me,” you whispered, your hot breath in his ear.

“I’ll be on my best behavior then,” Joe smirked, his hands falling down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smashed his lips onto yours, softly sucking your bottom lip. “That means wearing the mustache,” you giggled when you pulled away.

“No,” Joe said sternly. Even if the costume was Joe’s idea, he refused to wear a fake mustache. “Please Joe,” you whined, “Do it for me. I think it’d be kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah?” Joe wiggled his eyebrows, “Then by all means, give me the 'stache.”

- Flash forward -

You could feel the beat of the music deep in your chest as well as Joe’s hand protectively on the small of your back. He led you two over to a semi-private room where there were many other players, coaches, and training staff. You met up with some of the other wives and girlfriends like Holly and Morgan. The two of them complimented you on your and Joe’s costume, which Joe took much pride in.

After a while the three of you girls went over to the bar to get some drinks when you could feel eyes on you. Turning your head to the right, you see some guy dressed in a dress shirt and pants, with black wings on his back. He had black hair and fake blood down his face. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in your beautiful frame. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him make a beeline for you.

“Let me guess,” the man said, “Princess Peach.” You nodded your head slowly, trying your best to not pay attention to him. Holly and Gracie both gave you questioning looks, to which you responded with a side eye. “You know, I might have jeans and a red shirt in my car. Maybe I can be your Mario.”

“Mario is here actually,” you said, trying to lace your tone with as much brattiness as you could. “I don’t see him. You know it’s his fault for leaving such a pretty girl like you out here by yourself. I can show you a good time, baby. You just gotta give me a chance.” He slowly stepped closer to you, his gaze falling to your chest.

Before you could think of anything to say back to him, you felt a familiar presence above you.

Joe.

“She’s just fine thank you,” Joe snarkily said, his chest pressed against your back, his hand on your hip. He needed this guy to know that you were already spoken for. You had to hold back a chuckle when you saw the guy’s face turn completely white, knowing he just accidentally hit on Joe Burrow’s girl.

“Oh, sorry, man. I didn't know she was yours,” the guy said, retreating. Joe tightened his grip on you, knowing that if his hands weren't on you, he was going to punch this guy in the face. Joe had always been protective over you. He hated when people didn’t respect your relationship. “I better not see you again tonight,” Joe threatened.

‘Let’s go,” was all Joe said to you as he pulled you out the door and back to the Porsche. Saying that he was livid would be a huge understatement. Joe opened the door for you, before jogging around to the other side. He turned the car on before reversing out of the spot quickly. His hands clutched the steering wheel with such pressure that his knuckles were turning white. He smashed the heat button, knowing you would probably be cold in your outfit from the October weather.

The rest of the car ride was silent. No music in the back. Nothing. The only sound was the motor of the car. As the car geared down to stop at a red light, you looked over to already see Joe looking at you. “I need your help, baby,” Joe whispered, squirming in his seat a bit. Your gaze flicked down to his crotch, where a very noticeable tent laid. Joe pushed down his overalls, lifting his hips a bit to get them and his boxers down his legs. The tip was already red with pre-cum. “Joe- I don’t know… it feels dangerous.”

“I’ll be extra careful, babe. I promise. I need your lips around my cock, mama,” Joe whimpered, the cool air making him extra sensitive. You unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the middle console. Your tongue darted out of your mouth, licking a stripe from base to tip. Joe whimpered as he pressed the gas as the light turned green. His mouth fell open with a moan as you took him into your mouth. One of Joe’s hands fell from the steering wheel to make a ponytail out of your hair. “Just like that,” Joe groaned. You reached a hand up to work what couldn’t fit in your mouth. You knew Joe was getting closer and closer as he started getting louder and louder. His breaths were coming out short, his grip on your hair tightened, and your name fell from his mouth like he was chanting. “Fuck baby- I- I’m cumming-”

A few seconds later, you felt his load shoot into your mouth. You made sure to swallow every last drop. You leaned up a few minutes later and noticed that you were now home and parked in the garage. Joe opened the glove box to pull out a napkin to wipe your mouth off. “God, that was hot,” Joe smirked. “But just wait ‘til we get in the house. We’ll really get in the Halloween spirit then.”

“How so?” you asked, anticipation coursing through your body.

Joe leaned in closely to your ear, pushing your hair back. “I’m gonna make you scream,” Joe whispered, his hot breath against your neck.

And boy, did he fulfill that promise.

——

request:

[leahburreaux]

im sorry i fucking love her 😭😭

[leahburreaux]

I love these cartoon pics the NFL posts around holidays. They put Joe in a Slim Shady costume.

[leahburreaux]

@tylerjeauxburreaux9 <- this is how you @ people btw!

bby, all we asked was for you, a minor, to stop making account after account, solely to interact with our stuff. We told you it makes us uncomfortable and you continue to question why... you dont need to question why, if someone says they are uncomfortable, THEY ARE UNCOMFROTABLE PERIOD. doesn't matter why, doesnt matter who. You respect them and leave it be.

Be a fic writer, by all means, I love that for you. But you have lied about your age on several accounts, several different times, with several different ages. Several people have encountered this with you, they are not the problem here.

Im not the one to post about drama. I very much want the Joemmunity to be a safe space. And it is until you bring the energy and behavior that you have, into it. You're not going to come for my girls necks (Liv, Arch, Allyn, Chey, etc) like you have, with little to no explanation as to why, other than it hurts your feelings.

[leahburreaux]

https://www.instagram.com/p/DBw9zAYOZaB/?igsh=cTg3ZjR5ZHI3amE4

LOOK AT THIS!

NO WAY

I’M SCREAMING

[leahburreaux]

oh my god. the thighs, the ass..

(credits to a mutual on twitter, bengalslvr)

[leahburreaux]

It is time for the Bengals to go get a seasoned experience coach. This team deserves the Super Bowl. 

[leahburreaux]

men should get on their knees and bury their face in between your thighs like they would die if they don’t taste you more often but that’s just me

[leahburreaux]

psa: boundaries

i think i speak for (almost) everyone in this community. minors do not interact with any post that the author specifically suggests you not to. it's a kind reminder, this page has been that since day ONE. day uno, you get it. having access to these pages and mutuals is a privilege. if someone asks you to do not interact with them, respectfully move on with no questions asked!

**side note: everyone's welcome to this community, we don't judge (i hope)

(have a good day yall!)

[leahburreaux]

preach!

i feel i need to say something about this even if none of its being said about me.

there’s a reason why our blogs say 18+. it’s not for fun, it’s not to exclude anyone, it’s to make sure we don’t get IN TROUBLE. like legal trouble. it is illegal for a minor to interact with a blog that is strictly 18+, and vice versa. it’s a protection thing, and lying about age and harassing others isn’t going to change that. i shouldn’t have to explain that, i thought it was pretty obvious the reason why. i’m not trying to ruffle feathers or get myself involved, but there are super sweet and kind creators on here that are getting lit up for it and i don’t stand for it. bullying has no place on my page, and if i see someone doing it to one of my friends? blocked. bullying and harassment are an absolute no go.

again, i’m not being mean, i don’t want to be rude and i’m saying this gently. i’m also so so serious. i will be more than happy to go into depth about what the LAW says, even post it, but please stop lying about your age and stop interacting with 18+ accounts. it’s for your own good as much as everyone else’s.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[leahburreaux]

i log onto tumblr after not being on social media much except for tiktok and i see some name dropping involved 🙃