#I don’t know but I’m enthusiastic about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finalgirllx · 2 days ago

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guitar teacher!ellie x smartass!reader thank you for all the meet-cute requests @thatdammchickennugget -- they are my absolute favorite and this one is a classic. i plopped a lot of my real life into this lmao. i kinda wanna do a spicy part 2 here. idk. we'll see!

you wait with bated breath inside the cramped, soundproof lesson room at your local music store, where you signed up on a whim to learn the guitar. it’s an impulse decision, really—all but doomed to be just another tick off the ever-expanding list of random cool skills you’ve tried. at the very least, you hope maybe you can whip this one out to “impress the ladies.” maybe even serenade them with some songs and actually sound good doing it—lord knows many have endured the clunky chords of a red hot chili peppers song from some mediocre man already.

you clutch your new guitar semi-awkwardly, plucking the strings and lightly tapping the cool basswood. you can tell that the tune is off, but damn if you know how to fix it. you wonder if you’ll abandon it after the first 40 minutes, just like most other hobbies you’ve sampled.

in your hasty decision-making, you hadn’t even requested a specific teacher. you’d only ever seen middle-aged men employed here, which is fine. you trust their experience, picturing some warm-hearted old rocker coming in and showing off his tried-and-true tricks. what you don’t expect, then, is when the door opens and a girl your age enters the room, extending her hand to shake yours.

“hi, my name is ellie. you’re the one here to learn guitar, right?”

you shake her hand, eyes glancing over her form, trying not to seem like a dumbfounded creep. jeez, she’s cute. she has reddish-brown hair in a choppy bob, freckled cheeks, green eyes, and a dorky smile. she’s adorned in a faded blue jacket rolled up to her elbows, revealing arm tattoos, and a ragged t-shirt with a band you’ve never heard of. and this is the cutie who will watch you fiddle with out-of-tune strings and act like a complete dumbass? you half hope the ground will swallow you whole.

“yeah,” you manage to reply once you remember how to speak. “that’s me. word of warning: i really don’t know what i’m doing, so i’m, like, a total beginner.”

ellie chuckles reassuringly, likely having heard that tired statement a million times over. she gently picks the guitar up from your lap, inspecting its quality. of course, in her hands, the instrument looks like it was made to be held by her. “hey, that’s fine. everyone starts somewhere, right?” she gets to tuning the strings as naturally as breathing.

“so, what’s got you interested in learning?” ellie suddenly asks, just to fill the dense silence of the room. your mouth runs dry, struggling with a response that doesn’t sound as idiotic as “i’m an obnoxious flirt.” she catches onto your fumbling, adding, “what? wanting to look like a badass guitar god, hm?”

“calling yourself a badass, then?” the tongue-in-cheek question escapes before you can rein it in. ellie pauses her tuning to look up at you, and your heart drops to your stomach. she’s going to kick you out, you reckon.

“i mean… you are staring at me with your mouth open. must be in awe of my guitarist badassery or something. i don’t mind,” ellie replies with a knowing, smug smile, then returns to helping your sorry ass tune up your guitar.

yep, you definitely need that hole in the ground right now.

after that rocky introduction, the lesson takes on a more professional atmosphere, with ellie explaining the basics. she teaches you about the body of the instrument, the strings, and some basic history—you name it, and she knows it. it’s clear that ellie is enthusiastic about the guitar, her interest rubbing off on you, which does not help your case with how cute you already find her.

you try your best to be a good student, which isn’t the energy you typically bring to all your other short-lived courses. there is something special about ellie’s passion—how her lips move as she speaks about it, how her eyes light up, her fingers curling against the strings while demonstrating songs—it compels your attention. you listen respectfully to the multitude of rambles she embarks on and cuts short whenever ellie realizes she has led you too astray from the basics.

at approximately the 38th minute of the 40-minute lesson, you realize that you haven’t attempted to actually play the damn thing. ellie must have come to the same realization, flashing a tilted smile, hoping you aren’t too annoyed that this instructional course devolved into a ted talk, a worry she couldn’t possibly be more wrong about.

ellie assists your clumsy self in positioning the guitar onto your lap, showing you how to hold it correctly. the closeness has your heart racing, and every touch sends shivers through you—you hope the internal gay panic doesn’t translate outwardly. ellie takes her time helping you press your fingers onto the correct strings and frets to play a simple “c chord.” her fingers guiding yours with such precision causes your thoughts to veer into thousands of inappropriate possibilities. the pose feels a tad contorted, your fingers placed in a way totally foreign to you, but her reassurance builds your confidence to try. she crouches before you, making final adjustments before her greens glance back up to you expectantly, waiting for you to try.

you strum the one chord—a passable sound that resonates throughout the guitar. it gets the job done but, of course, lacks the flow that ellie could have had. but ellie is proud, her genuine smile and silly applause flustering you.

you find yourself feeling more accomplished in this single instance than in the last three skills you’ve tried combined.

“good start, guitar god. i’ll show you another one—if you think you’ll stick to a second lesson,” ellie then suggests, an endearing smile on her face as she watches you absent-mindedly fiddle with the individual strings a bit more. an effective bargaining tactic for sure.

“yep, no problem.” easiest commitment you’ve ever made.

"hell yeah," ellie rejoices, reaching out one last time to high-five you. she looks delighted. just happy to have a new, consistent student, of course--that has to be it.

you sign up for another lesson after—and maybe another. and another.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams tlou2 #tlou2 #lesbian #wlw

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passengerprincessblog · 1 day ago

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“Intern”~ pt. 1 Max Verstappen x reader

Disclaimer: Reader doesn’t have to be blonde! The images is just to show she’s working for the team!

Warnings: degrading? Mean max.

Summary: The series follows Y/N, a fresh and slightly timid media intern for the Red Bull Racing team, who is thrown into the chaotic, high-stakes world of Formula 1. Her job quickly becomes challenging not only because of the high-pressure environment but because of Max Verstappen, the star driver with a talent for making her feel small and flustered. Max’s arrogance and relentless teasing leave her feeling out of her depth, yet strangely captivated. Despite his condescending demeanor, there’s an undeniable pull between them, a tension that seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

I sit quietly in the corner of the motorhome, tapping nervously on my phone as I check my messages. The whole atmosphere here is intimidating, even more so when Max Verstappen and Checo stroll in, laughing at some private joke. Their easy confidence is almost tangible, filling the room with a sense of belonging I can only hope to someday feel.

Max’s eyes land on me for a split second, and I quickly look away, pretending to be engrossed in a message from my boss, Adam. I can feel my cheeks heat up just from that brief eye contact. It’s silly, but he’s… well, he’s Max Verstappen. There’s something intimidating in the way he looks at people, like he’s sizing them up and finding them lacking. And, of course, I’m not immune to his scrutiny.

The only time he’s spoken to me before, he’d made a throwaway comment that left me red-faced. He wasn’t even trying to be mean—it just slipped out, something about me “looking lost.” The memory of my blush and his faint smirk is still fresh, and I can’t seem to shake it.

My phone buzzes with a message from Adam: Can you come to Meeting Room 3 ASAP?

With a deep breath, I make my way to the meeting room, hoping Adam’s request isn’t something beyond my skill level. When I arrive, he looks a bit frazzled, glancing up from his stack of papers with an apologetic smile.

“Y/N, I know you’re still new, and I haven’t had the chance to train you properly…” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re short-staffed this weekend, so I need you to help the media team cover for the missing people. Think you’re up for it?”

I swallow hard, my nerves tightening at the idea of being around Max and the rest of the drivers more than I already have been. But I don’t want to let Adam down; he’s been nothing but encouraging since I started, always pushing me to do better, to learn more. It’s why I like him so much as a boss.

“Of course, Adam,” I reply, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “What do you need me to do?”

He hands me a tablet and goes over the details. My main job will be to record the drivers’ answers during interviews, ensuring we have accurate records. I’ll also assist Andrew with media release forms. It’s straightforward, but the thought of messing up in front of Max makes my stomach churn.

Later in the day, Adam decides it’s time for a proper introduction. He drags me into the garage, where Max is leaning against one of the cars, arms folded as he talks with a mechanic. When he sees us approaching, he raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he already knows I’m way out of my league.

“Max, this is Y/N,” Adam says cheerfully. “She’s helping us out with the media coverage this weekend. We’re a bit understaffed, so she’ll be shadowing you a lot.”

Max looks me up and down, his gaze almost clinical, as if he’s evaluating whether I’ll be a help or a hindrance. He smiles, but it’s the polite kind—the one people give when they’re forced to interact with someone they don’t particularly care about.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, offering a brief nod. “So, they haven’t trained you yet, huh?”

My cheeks flush, and I look away, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. There’s something so arrogant about him, the way he stands there, completely sure of himself. Why does he have to be like this? He’s just a driver, after all. A very talented one, sure, but still just a person. But his energy—the way he carries himself—makes it clear he’s used to people fawning over him.

“Not yet,” I reply, managing to keep my voice steady.

He just chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, I’ll break you in.” He says quietly enough for me to hear.

What? What did he just- I blink and smile at him.

A few hours later, we’re on our way to the media pen after qualifying. I’m clutching the tablet tightly, going over my mental checklist to make sure I have everything. Just as we reach the interview area, I realize with a sickening jolt that I’ve left the team phone back in the motorhome.

I take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment already creeping up my cheeks. “Um… Max?” I ask hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you mind waiting a minute?”

He looks at me, eyebrow raised, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You forgot the phone, didn’t you?” he says, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Let me guess—you didn’t think you’d need it?”

I nod, my cheeks heating up further, and I try to apologize. “I’m sorry, it won’t take long—”

“Oh, don’t worry, intern,” he says, emphasizing the title like it’s an insult. “I know you’re new, but I figured you’d be a bit smarter than that. Or is this your way of making sure I remember your name?”

His tone is light, but the words sting. I try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a nervous squeak. “It’s just… I thought I had everything.”

He leans closer, making me meet his gaze, his expression full of condescension. “Don’t look so nervous. I’m asking you a question,” he says slowly, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable I am.

“I… I know. I just—”

“Didn’t think?” he cuts me off, chuckling to himself. “It’s fine. Go on, intern. Fetch the phone. I’ll wait here, seeing as you’re so eager to do a good job.”

I nod and practically sprint back to the motorhome, my mind racing. By the time I return with the phone, my cheeks are still burning, and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s pleased with himself.

During the interviews, I focus on recording Max’s answers, refusing to make eye contact. I can feel him glancing at me every few moments, as if he’s waiting for me to make another mistake, something else he can latch onto. But I keep my head down, determined to finish this task without another hitch.

Later that day, Adam calls me aside, a slight frown on his face as he glances at a form in his hands. “Y/N, I need Max’s signature on this media release form. Looks like you forgot to get it earlier.”

I feel my heart sink. Another mistake. Another opportunity for Max to remind me just how out of place I am here. Swallowing my pride, I head to his driver’s room, my hands shaking slightly as I knock on the door.

“Come in,” he calls, sounding a bit exasperated.

I step inside, holding the form and pen. He’s lounging on a chair, scrolling through his phone, barely sparing me a glance. “Um, Max… I just need you to sign this release form.”

He finally looks up, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. “Intern, I thought we went over this,” he says, leaning back with a mock sigh. “Didn’t I tell you earlier to get it all done at once?”

“I… I’m sorry. I just—”

“Forgot. Again,” he interrupts, looking like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. “Is this going to be a habit with you? Or should I expect you to keep knocking on my door every five minutes?”

I can feel the embarrassment flooding my cheeks, but I hold out the paper and pen, refusing to let him see how much his words sting. “It won’t happen again,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

He takes the form from me, signing it with a flourish, but not before giving me one last smirk. “Let’s hope not. I don’t have time to babysit, intern.” he says, clearly enjoying himself.

He doesn’t hand the form back to me. Instead, he holds onto it, his fingers curling around the edges, teasing me as I reach out, waiting for him to relinquish it. But he makes no move to do so. His smirk only widens, and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Maybe,” he begins, his tone dripping with mock thoughtfulness, “maybe I shouldn’t give it back to you. Maybe you should learn from your mistakes.” He pauses, watching as I grow visibly more uncomfortable under his scrutiny. And then, with a single, swift movement, he crumples the paper in his fist.

My mouth falls open in shock, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself.

“Do you need a babysitter, Y/N?” he taunts, his voice soft but laced with condescension. “Is that what you’re asking for? Because that’s what it looks like to me. Someone to hold your hand, make sure you don’t make any more silly mistakes.”

His words sting, each one hitting me like a small slap to my pride. I can feel frustration bubbling up inside me, the urge to snap back at him nearly overwhelming. But I bite my tongue, swallowing the retort building in my throat. I can’t risk my job, no matter how badly I want to put him in his place.

Instead, I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “No… I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to keep any hint of annoyance out of my voice. It takes everything I have not to glare at him, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible.

Max’s smirk only grows at my response. He seems to revel in my discomfort, enjoying every second of this little power play. He lets the crumpled paper fall from his hand, watching it drift to the floor near his feet. “If you’re so sorry,” he says, gesturing to the paper on the ground, “then pick it up and make it work. I’m sure a little crease won’t stop an intern like you, right?”

I hesitate for a moment, the indignation flaring up again, but I bite it back. He’s baiting me, waiting for me to snap so he has another reason to belittle me. So, without another word, I crouch down, reaching for the paper that lies just near his feet. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, that smug satisfaction radiating off him as I pick up the wrinkled form and straighten back up, clutching it tightly.

I want to say something, to tell him off, to make him realize how unbearable he’s being. But all I do is nod, the words caught in my throat as I straighten the paper as best I can. Max watches me, one eyebrow raised in clear amusement, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Say thank you,” he commands, his tone soft but dripping with authority.

I clench my jaw, every fiber of my being resisting the urge to roll my eyes. But I know better. I swallow my pride, forcing myself to look up at him, though the words feel heavy on my tongue. “Thank you,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

He tilts his head, that smirk growing, clearly pleased by my forced gratitude. “See you tomorrow, intern,” he says, his tone dismissive, as if I’m nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day.

Without another word, I turn and leave, clutching the wrinkled paper in my hand, his mocking gaze burning into my back as I step out of the room.

——————————————-

Thank you for reading! 😇

Remember, liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x you

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arts-bloody-rose · 3 days ago

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Blood of A Rose - One of A Kind (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - After having been together in their unspoken relationship for some time, (Y/n) suggests that they have their own first date.

Notes - Y’all I’m alive 🤚🏻 This is for a request from @odditycircus-2002 asking for a date night between this beautifully twisted couple 💕

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or have a request!

Word Count - 2,739

Warning(s) - Art honestly, violence, minor gore

Song Inspiration -

Matt Maltese - As the World Caves In

(Y/n) stood next to her bed at her house, folding her laundry while Art was curled up on top of the sheets across from her. Only the lamp on one of her nightstands was lit, casting a warm and dim glow over the room. Soft music filled the room, creating a calmer atmosphere as they soaked in each other’s presence.

Art’s eyes traced her every movement, fascinated by how meticulous she was with such a simple task.

As she grabbed her clothes that were put on hangers and opened the larger wardrobe to put them away, she eyed the clothes inside. There wasn’t an overwhelming amount, but there was enough for every occasion. Though she never participated in such occasions. As she hung up the last article of clothing, she was struck with an idea.

“Hey, Art?” The clown perked up at her delicate voice. “I was wondering about something.” (Y/n) continued as she finished putting away the rest of her clothes in her dresser.

Art sat up enthusiastically, hands folded in his lap with his legs outstretched in front of him as he grinned in anticipation.

She smiled in adoration at his behavior. “What if we had a special night together?” (Y/n) asked timidly, moving to straddle his lap and began to fiddle with his ruffle collar.

Art’s expression was thoughtful. Curious, yet it held a sense of confusion.

“I don’t mean what we usually do. I mean just us… going out and enjoying each other’s company.”

Art gave her an almost offended expression, motioning between the two of them and then holding his hands up in question with a level of sass.

“Listen!” (Y/n) giggled and placed her hands against his chest.

Art crossed his arms, leaning in with his ear impatiently.

“I mean like a date.”

His expression turned into surprise, hands coming up to his cheeks.

“We can go out and grab some good food, watch a movie together.” (Y/n) continued persuasively, reaching to take his hands and held them together in front of her. “I can dress nice and pretty for you.”

Art looked her up and down seductively, wiggling his eyebrows as his tongue peeked out between his teeth.

“We’ll see.” (Y/n) chuckled. “Does that sound good to you though?” She asked seriously, thumbs brushing the back of his gloved hands. He nodded eagerly and she leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. “Good. Tomorrow then.”

In her small, dimly lit room, (Y/n) stood in front of her dresser, carefully applying her makeup in front of the mirror hung above it. Music hummed in the background, giving her a boost of confidence as she stood back and admired her more gussied-up appearance. Her reflection was striking yet soft, a haunting beauty.

The personification of her work.

The air smelled faintly of old paint, charcoal, and the earthy scent of the countless roses and odd trinkets Art had collected for her over time. But there was also a new scent that clung to the air; the smell of her perfume that she kept for special occasions such as this.

A small smile played at her lips as she thought of him. How he’d watched her work in silence, eyes gleaming with admiration, his chilling presence somehow making her feel seen and safe. She felt his encouragement in ways no one else could understand.

(Y/n) pulled herself from her thoughts and took a deep breath. It was their first official date, and she wanted to look perfect for him in her own way. Wanted the experience to be perfect in their own way.

She reached for a necklace Art had gifted her; a small, golden locket with a delicate engraving of a thorny rose. Inside was a piece of paper, a drop of both his and her own blood dried into it - a blend that was terrifying and alluring, representing their unspoken vows to each other.

She fastened it around her neck, letting it rest close to her heart.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, sending a flutter through her chest, settling into her stomach as nerves began to set in.

The knocking turned into impatient pounding and (Y/n) took one last look in the mirror, feeling a surge of butterflies that she only ever felt when she was with him.

She opened the door to find Art standing there in his signature outfit, his face painted with that wild, almost taunting grin. There was one subtle change to his attire, however.

At the base of his neck sat a simple black bow-tie. And it oddly fit into his usual monochromatic look.

When she met his eyes, his expression softened - just slightly - when he saw her, as if she were his masterpiece.

He didn’t need words to express himself, his eyes saying all that she needed to know.

Perfection.

There was no need for small talk or pleasantries; they shared a quiet understanding, a mutual appreciation for the darkness they both embraced.

“Hey.” (Y/n) nearly whispered abashedly, hands fidgeting in front of her as she burned under his gaze.

Art’s head suddenly shook, knocking him out of his frozen state and snapping to attention with a wide grin. He playfully adjusted his bow-tie, then bowed low, holding his hand out to her dramatically as he held eye contact.

(Y/n) giggled and delicately placed her own into his palm, watching as he began to kiss it, slowly working his way up her arm before finally landing on her cheek.

Her cheeks reddened as his hand still held onto hers, then linked their arms together and led them out of their hideout.

The streets of the city lay quiet beneath the shroud of night. Beneath the glow of scattered streetlights, accompanied by the eerie stillness of their surroundings, it felt like a hidden stage set just for them. The night’s chill bit at her skin, though she didn’t mind. It was refreshing, almost calming, matching the small flickers of excitement she felt in Art’s strange company.

Even then, she simply stepped closer to him, practically molded into each other as they strolled towards the town.

It felt odd seeing Art out and about without his bag, and even weirder for himself as it felt like a piece of himself was missing. But as strange as it seemed, he agreed not to bring it for the sake of their experience.

Beside him, (Y/n)’s heart fluttered as she snuck glances at the man she called her own. She could burst with tears, break down in front of him and fall to her knees with praise and pronounce her undying love in cliche romance.

But she could only stare.

And for the first time, Art nearly felt an unfamiliar flutter in his own stomach as he, too, snuck glances at the woman beside him. His grin was plastered, unwavering and unreadable to anyone who saw it. But inside, behind his stone-cold eyes, he was more confused than ever before as his chest threatened to twist itself at the sight of her.

As they approached a rather new take-out restaurant on the edge of the city, (Y/n) wondered if he’d even be interested in a simple meal. Art’s appetite, she suspected, leaned more towards the bizarre, but he seemed to humor her. He cocked his head, miming curiosity in her culinary interests, his odd, silent laughter filling the spaces between her nervous suggestions.

Art nodded in agreement and patted her hand, remaining outside while she went in to order.

Following a few moments deliberation over the menu, she chose a few dishes she thought might suit both of their tastes. Anything with rich flavors, meats, and smoky spices, all packed neatly in small cardboard boxes.

After what felt like an eternity, Art jumped when he heard yelling from inside the building and busted through the door, figure tense and expression twisted into violent determination.

Behind the counter, (Y/n) pulled out a pen from a man’s jugular, a bag of food sat on the counter beside them. Blood spewed out of his neck as he held his hand over the wound, gargling for help and collapsing onto the floor.

Art immediately relaxed, watching as she tossed the pen onto the counter and finally looked over at him with an indifferent expression. She huffed and rounded to the other side, grabbing the bag of food with her clean hand and making her way over to him.

Art crossed his arms and tapped his foot, looking at her impatiently. When she reached him she casually wiped off the blood on her hand onto his suit as he rubbed at his stomach with a frown.

“Trust me, I’m hungry too.” Art pointed at the counter in question. “He called me a slut.” (Y/n) pouted.

Art took her wrist and lowered it, eyes set on where the still-gargling man was before making his way over to him.

“Art, I thought we were hungry.” She practically whined as she watched him disappear behind the counter as he crouched down to the man.

(Y/n) sighed and took a seat in one of the booths, picking at her fingers as she waited for him to finish.

Eventually, they left the faint glow of the restaurant with food in hand and strolled towards a cemetery just down the road that they had passed.

The night felt alive in that stillness, and (Y/n) found herself unwinding in ways she never did around others, and the same seemed to occur with the notorious clown.

The iron gates creaked as Art swung them open with a flourish, bowing theatrically as (Y/n) stepped through. Her cheeks warmed, and she smiled shyly, clutching the take-out bag. They found a secluded spot under an ancient oak tree, far enough from the main path to avoid anyone who might’ve been around.

Taking their seats, they ate in companionable silence, Art gleefully tearing into his food with exaggerated enthusiasm, each bite accompanied by silent laughs and approving nods. (Y/n) found herself chuckling, feeling at ease as she nibbled at her food.

There was something strangely poetic about it, about their peaceful picnic among the tombstones, two souls savoring the comfort of isolation in a world that rarely understood them.

At some point, (Y/n) set down her food, watching Art as he looked down at his food while he ate, behavior deceptively innocent when he looked up and around every now and then with wide and curious eyes.

Her own turned to look at the tombstones with a kind of reverent curiosity. Her mind began turning, imagining stories for each name etched in stone. She leaned back against the oak before speaking.

“Do you ever wonder what they’d think of us?” she asked, motioning to the graves. “Sitting here, sharing a meal. As if… we’re normal people.”

Art cocked his head, his silent laugh haunting but surprisingly warm. He raised his hand, pointing a gloved finger at her before tapping his own chest and waved his hand. He found amusement in the thought of two misfits being perceived as ‘normal’, finding solace where others might see only fear or strangeness.

(Y/n)’s smile softened. She felt understood, and that feeling lingered in her chest like a fragile ember, warming her.

She looked back out at the tombs, scanning over them before she found one she thought was particularly amusing. She nudged Art with her shoulder as she chuckled.

“Look at that one.” She pointed and Art squinted to read it.

Guess I have tomorrow off. The epitaph read.

Art nodded and held his stomach in laughter, (Y/n) joining him as she held onto him with her head on his shoulder as she cackled and wheezed.

Art popped up at the new sound, pointing at her and impossibly laughing even harder as he watched her cover her mouth in embarrassment.

Her hand lazily slapped at his arm. “Asshole!” She choked out as she struggled to catch her breath. Art wiggled his eyebrows and used his fingers to tell her for shame.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes as their laughter died, moving to stand as Art stood quickly beside her. He pushed her back down and she collapsed back into her spot, looking up at Art with an offended expression.

Her expression flattened when he brushed himself off and held out his hand in a gentlemanly manner.

(Y/n) clicked her tongue and reluctantly took it, then shrieked when she was suddenly yanked up and collapsed into his chest.

She looked up at him and he gazed at her promiscuously, looking her up and down. (Y/n) swatted at his chest, then pulled away to pick up their mess and tossed it into a trash bin as they left hand-in-hand.

When they entered her house, (Y/n) pulled off her shoes and made her way to the couch, Art trailing closely behind her. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, clicking through until she found a slasher film that she thought he would enjoy.

“Have you had ice cream before?” She asked him curiously as she walked to the kitchen. She looked back to see him shaking his head. “You want to try some?”

Art grinned excitedly and rubbed his hands together, shoulders hunched as he creeped over to where she stood at the fridge.

He watched as she pulled out a tub of neapolitan ice cream, followed by two bowls, spoons and an ice cream scooper. When she opened the tub, he eyed it for a moment before he dug his finger into the chocolate portion and brought it to his nose to smell it.

(Y/n) watched him with a small frown, raising an eyebrow at him. He finally ate it off of his finger, and with it still in his mouth, his eyes widened.

Art suddenly snatched the tub, knocking over a bowl in the process, and practically trotted over to the couch to plop down onto it.

“Hey!” (Y/n) tried, but he ignored her and simply dug into the ice cream with his fingers.

She sighed and crossed her arms, contemplating before she grabbed one of the spoons and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past her lips, giving up on the irritation and instead finding his behavior adorable.

She met him at the couch and curled up next to him, starting the movie before she became too comfortable. She was careful as she scooped her own ice cream, mindful of where his fingers touched to not get any of the grime that inevitably contaminated it.

As the movie played, (Y/n) would be lying if she said she was paying attention to it. Truthfully, she was more so focusing on his reactions, however minuscule they were.

Despite his sadistic behavior, he seemed so innocent in this state. Almost childlike with the tub of ice cream in his lap, coating his fingers and lining his mouth as his wide eyes took in what played before them. He laughed whenever someone was murdered, but that was only to be expected from him.

She chuckled softly to herself, grabbing a napkin from the coffee table in front of them once he set the now nearly empty tub aside. (Y/n) waited patiently as he licked at his fingers until they were nearly pristine before she wiped at his mouth. He flinched at first with a frown, throwing her a side-eye, but eventually gave in.

When finished, she fully snuggled into him, Art reaching an arm around her to pull her closer and resting his head on top of her own.

As he watched the movie, she closed her eyes, closely listening to the rhythm of his heart. She noticed how it picked up with his laughter, with his anticipation before the next kill. How it slowed during the more calm scenes of the film.

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. And when the movie ended, Art went to slap her thighs in his enjoyment for what he watched, but stopped himself when he noticed her peaceful form wrapped around him.

His mouth formed an ‘o’ and he looked around, wondering what to do. Art then relaxed his face with content, shimmying to get himself comfortable before he closed his eyes alongside her.

Tag List: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

#art #art the clown #art the clown x reader #damien leone #david howard thornton #terrifier #terrifier 2 #x reader #blood of a rose #fanfiction #david howard thornton x reader #terrifier 1 #terrifier x reader #terrifier 3 #franchise #slashers #slasher movies #art x reader #fanfic

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springtyme · 2 days ago

Text

𝐀 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: It’s Halloween night, and you and Aaron take your little superhero out for some trick-or-treating.

word count: 2.2k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏) 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐫 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

The evening air outside is cool and crisp, the air filled with the sweet scent of fallen leaves and the distant sounds of laughter and chatter of excited kids and their parents. Halloween has always been a special time for families, and this year feels even more significant now that you are, not only, a part of Aaron’s life, but also a part of Jack’s.

You stand in the hallway of the Hotchner house, putting the finishing touches on your costume. You have chosen to dress as a classic witch; a simple, but cute, black dress, and a pointed hat completing the ensemble. It felt like a safe choice. Simple, but efficient. With a little shimmer dust and a flick of lipstick, you feel a rush of excitement. You’re ready to help Aaron and Jack make this Halloween a good one.

As you glance in the mirror, adjusting the brim of your hat, you can’t help but smile as you catch Aaron’s reflection in the mirror as he walks into the hallway, and your smile widens even more as his gaze catches yours.

“Are you sure you can scare anyone dressed like that?” Aaron raises an eyebrow, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Just you wait. I have tricks up my sleeve,” you reply, your voice playful.

Aaron chuckles softly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, his strong stance somehow both intimidating and reassuring. “I’ve seen your tricks before. I’m not sure I need to worry about anything except my own candy stash.”

You turn to him, feigning offense. “Oh come on! I’m sure I can conjure up something spooktacular for the evening. Just look how scary I am!” You twirl slightly, making the hem of your dress flare out, and strike a pose, hoping to elicit a laugh.

He shakes his head, the amused glimmer in his deep brown eyes brightening as he responds, “You’re definitely cute, but I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of your powers of persuasion. You could easily charm the candy right out of my hands.”

“That’s the idea,” you wink, feigning innocence as you step over to him. Aaron’s hands find your waist as he pulls you in closer, his familiar warmth soothing and familiar.

“Just don’t use those powers too effectively or I might not get any candy at all,” he replies, his breath brushing against your cheek.

You tilt your head up, looking into his eyes. He doesn’t even really eat candy, he usually keeps to chocolate covered almonds and healthier snacks, but you know that he likes to indulge you and Jack, and play along when you ‘steal’ his candy. It’s part of the fun, and you love seeing Jack’s face light up when

“Don’t worry, I promise to leave you at least a few pieces,” you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. “But only if you let me help you with your costume next year. I think you will make a very handsome vampire.”

Aaron chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he raises a brow. “A vampire? Really?”

“Absolutely.” You smile at him and nod enthusiastically, but before you can say anything else, you hear the sound of little feet racing down the stairs. You and Aaron turn your heads to watch as Jack bound down the stairs, dressed in his superhero costume, making him look ready to save the world.

“Dad! Look at my cape!” Jack exclaims, his cape fluttering dramatically behind him. He strikes a hero pose as he reaches the foot of the stairs. He had insisted on getting ready himself, he wanted to ‘surprise’ Aaron with his costume choice, even though he had let it slip by accident. But Aaron is a great dad and he is ready to act surprised.

“Wow, buddy. It’s perfect!” Aaron enthusiastically responds. He lets go of your waist and walks over to the stairs, crouching down to Jack’s level, his eyes wide with genuine admiration. “You look just like a real superhero ready to save the day.”

Jack beams with pride, the corners of his mouth stretching into a beaming smile.

Your heart flutters by the sight of them, and you can’t help but feel the warmth of their bond radiating through the dimly lit hallway. There’s something magical about watching Aaron in dad mode, his gentle encouragement admirable.

You had been scared and doubtful about taking on the role of stepmom when you and Aaron started dating and eventually got more serious about your relationship. You had been terrified to do something wrong or overstep boundaries. But it turned out that your worries had been unfounded.

The more time you spent with Jack, the more you realized that he was just as eager to welcome you into his life as you were to embrace the role of a supportive figure. And it has become one of the most rewarding experiences of your life. Doing things like go shopping for his Halloween costume together, even without Aaron, feels so natural now.

“Do you have any superpowers ready for tonight?” you ask Jack as he approaches you, eyes wide and expressive, embodying his superhero persona.

Jack nods fervently. “Yep! My power is to collect all the candy in the whole world!” He raises his fists triumphantly, and you laugh at his enthusiasm.

“Well, then, we better get going if you plan to save the candy from the villains stealing it all,” you say, taking a playful stance beside him.

“Right!” Jack grins, bouncing on his toes in excitement, his small hands balled into fists as he prepares for action.

Aaron watches with an affectionate smile as you and Jack exchange energy, your own excitement mirrored in his son’s enthusiasm.It’s a sight that warms his heart—seeing you bond with Jack like this, effortlessly fitting into the role of his partner and now a part of their little team.

“Can I be your sidekick?” you ask Jack, lowering your voice dramatically, as if you’re sharing a big secret. “Every superhero needs a sidekick, after all.”

Jack’s eyes light up even more, and he nods vigorously. “Yes! You can be my witch sidekick.” He raises his arms again in a triumphant pose, his cape billowing behind him as if it has come alive in the moment.

You feel a swell of joy at Jack’s words, your heart swelling with affection. “Alright then, Super Jack. Let’s go save the world—one house and piece of candy at a time!”

“You’re gonna have to use your magic withch powers to help us!” Jack exclaims, tugging at your hand as he leads the way towards the door.

Aaron follows behind, grinning at the two of you. “I’ll be the villain then. You know, just to make things interesting,” he calls out teasingly.

“Dad, you can’t be the villain,” Jack challenges, turning around with a serious expression, his little fists on his hips. “You’re supposed to be a good guy.”

“Alright,” Aaron replies with a chuckle as he kneels down to help Jack with his shoes. “How about I just make sure you guys stay safe from the candy thieves instead?”

“Yes! you can be our spy,” Jack concedes, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he basically bounces with excited energy. He hops on one foot, then the other, getting ready to dash out the door.

“But first,” Aaron starts, his tone light yet authoritative, “we need to make sure you’re warm enough. It’s chilly outside, and you can’t go saving the world if you catch a cold.”

Jack’s face falls and his excited jitters come to a halt as Aaron hands him his jacket.

“But superheros don’t wear jackets,” Jack whines dramatically, his little shoulders slumping.

“Jack.” Aaron gives him a firm yet gentle look, his voice steady but kind. “Even superheroes need to be careful. Besides, you wouldn’t want to risk the world’s greatest candy collector getting sick, would you?”

Jack pouts for a moment longer but then begrudgingly takes the jacket from his father, putting it on, but he doesn’t look happy about it, his prior excitement dimmed. Aaron looks at you, and offers a small shrug, as if to say he’s trying his best to navigate the whims of a spirited child.

You offer him a soft smile, you think he is doing an incredible job, but you also remember how it was being a young child forced to wear a jacket on Halloween, so you step in, striding over to where Jack stands and kneel to meet his eye level.

“Jack,” you say softly, kneeling beside him to get to his eye level. “I’m gonna wear a jacket over my costume too, you know?” you glance toward Aaron, who is watching with a slight smile, before focusing back on the little boy in front of you. You take the end of his cape that sticks out from under the back of his jacket between your fingers, the fabric is now sandwiched between his body and the inside of the jacket. “Look, how about we do this?” you say, gently pulling at the top of the cape, tucking it out from under his jacket, ensuring it still flows behind him, even with the jacket on.

Jack stands a little taller now, a smile returning to his face as he looks at you with admiration and warmth.

“See? Now your cape can still fly in the wind, just like a real superhero!” you say, grinning as you encourage him.

He stares down at himself for a moment, turning this way and that, testing the cape’s movements. A flicker of joy returns to his eyes as he pretends to swoosh the cape behind him. And then, he surges forward, wrapping his little arms around you in a tight hug.

The warmth of his small embrace fills your heart with an indescribable joy. You return the hug, ruffling his hair playfully as you pull back, chuckling at his infectious enthusiasm. “Now let’s put that superhero power to good use, shall we?

Jack releases his hold and stretches his arms out wide again, the cape flowing behind him as he spins around, radiating with excitement. “Yes, let’s go save the candy!”

“Alright, lead the way, Super Jack!” you encourage, standing up and offering him your hand. Aaron walks beside you both, a proud father, his heart swelling at the sight of you and Jack.

As you step outside into the cool night air, the glow of carved pumpkins and twinkling string lights sets a magical backdrop for your adventure. Laughter echoes in the distance, mingling with the rustling leaves underfoot. Jack skips ahead, a bundle of boundless energy, though he knows that he is only allowed to stay a few feet away.

Aaron keeps pace beside you, his eyes flickering between you and his son, a soft smile curving his lips. It’s a look that fills your heart with warmth, knowing how much this moment means to him.

“Thank you for being so amazing with him,” Aaron murmurs, his voice low and genuine as the three of you navigate down the path. “You really fit in so well and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

You glance up at him, the sincerity in his gaze making your stomach flutter. “I just love being here with you both,” you reply, your tone earnest. “It feels special.”

The warmth in Aaron’s eyes deepens, drawing you in closer. You pause, letting Jack lead the way, spinning at the first house with its creepy decorations and bright lights. Aaron steps toward you, closing the distance between your bodies.

“You are amazing,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “The way you connect with Jack, the joy you bring to our lives… I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”

Emboldened by his words, you smile up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “I feel the same way, Aaron.”

He hesitates, his gaze drifting to your lips before returning to your eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between you. Slowly, he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pull apart, your breath mingling in the cool evening air, Aaron looks down at you, his eyes shining with admiration.

“You really are amazing,” he repeats, his voice husky with emotion. “I’m so grateful for you.”

A grin breaks across your face as you bask in the moment, feeling utterly cherished. “And you’re pretty incredible yourself, Hotchner,” you tease lightly.

Just then, Jack returns, his pumpkin bucket now a little heavier than before as he proudly showcases his haul. “Look! I saved all this candy for our team!” he exclaims.

Aaron chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh along, your heart swelling as you watch Jack’s excitement. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

Jack nods, clearly finding it to be pretty awesome too, before handing Aaron the bucket. Taking his father’s free hand in his small one, he reaches for your hand with the other, forming a little chain of camaraderie as you walk towards the next house.

You and Aaron’s eyes meet, your arms gently swinging in a cozy little rhythm, there is a smile on his face, warm and gentle, that must be mirroring your own.

“Looks like we make quite the team,” you whisper, glancing at the little hero between you. Jack is practically buzzing with energy, swinging his arms back and forth as he walks, a mixture of enthusiasm and determination on his face.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees, his voice infused with pride. “The best team.”

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readerstories · 22 hours ago

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When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 6/?

Some light word-building, and a try at explaining a little with reader's thinking/worldview. And of course, a soulmate :3 Next chapter in about a week(+/- a day)! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 2506

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been a week since you saw either of them.

Your soulmates.

You don’t like them being that, you could call them something else you suppose. But calling them their names all the time is more of a mouthful, and though you gave them nicknames before you learned their names, giving them new ones seems worse than just calling them what they are. (Even as much as you hate it.)

The ache in your shoulders and upper back has settled to a near permanent thing now, only fleeting relief for the for the briefest of moments if you massage the area.

You know why it doesn’t fade, but you don’t want to admit that to anyone, especially not Evelyn when you visit her for a check up, this time at home in her and Olivia’s apartment.

You wonder how many other people have to bring brownies to their doctor appointments as you ring Evelyn’s and Olivia’s doorbell outside the building. To be fair, not everyone else’s doctor works as a veterinarian and has a wife that would kill you if you didn’t bring them (not really, but sometimes you think Olivia is certainly capable of doing so).

Said wife is the one who buzzes you in, and greets you in the hallway just outside their front door with an enthusiastic yell of your name, and a hug that makes you let out a small grunt of pain that you try to hide in favor of hugging her back with the arm not currently holding onto the strap of your backpack.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re a wounded man, come in, come in, Evelyn is just setting up.” Her beautiful dark and curled hair bounces as she heads to the kitchen, and you follow her after making sure the front door is closed behind you.

The kitchen table is covered in towels, towels you know are specifically for this purpose, since none of them are the cute patterns Olivia loves. You also know that underneath there’s cling wrap covering the table, for cleanliness and just in case. It hadn’t been often you had been on this kitchen table instead of the clinic table, but the procedure Evelyn has around it isn’t unknown to you. A lot more organized than what Wade’s and Logan’s had been.

You banish the thought of them from your mind as you put your backpack down, dipping your hand inside to fish out the box of carefully wrapped brownies out, and present them to Olivia. She gasps at you, almost yanking the box out of your hand with how fast she takes it.

“Sometimes I swear it’s like you are my second soulmate.” Your stomach swoops at her words, and you make a face. She knows and disagrees with your view on soulmates, so you know it’s a friendly jab, and normally you wouldn’t have cared, but this time it hits something you don’t like.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes at her, focusing on Evelyn instead as Olivia goes to put her treasure away. “Ready for me doc?” Seems to be the perfect time to ask that question as Evelyn puts gloves on and pats the table.

“Up you go.” You do as asked, hoisting yourself up. You take your shirt off, balling it up, putting it under your head as you lay down, getting comfortable. “Feeling fine?” Evelyn starts to peel your bandages off, slowly and carefully.

“Yeah. They seem to be doing fine, in my non-medical opinion.” She hums, and you know she’s taking your words into consideration, but it won’t really matter much before she has had a look herself. You let your eyes stay open, watching the ceiling as you hear Olivia putter around the kitchen, and feel Evelyn poke around your wounds.

Nasty couple of things. Well, they had been. You have been surprised nothing had gotten infected, you had no idea how well Wade took care of his swords, how nasty or not they were. But well, to be fair to him, if you had gotten an infection, your makeshift bandages would have been just as likely a culprit.

“Looks like you won’t die anytime soon, but they’ll still leave some nasty scars behind.” Evelyn offers, seeming to be done with her inspection of you, as she changes gloves, and starts applying new bandages. You shrug, you figured out much. Nothing cuts that deep without leaving behind a mark.

Well, unless you are a super healing mutant. Even after you had tried multiple times. Both with a katana and a gun.

Should you even feel bad for hurting your soulmates like that when it was done when in panic but with the knowledge it would heal? And you got more permanently hurt?

And to be fair, Wade had knocked you out before you ever hurt them after realizing they were your soulmates, so it wasn’t like you hadn’t been hurt, but you shot them both. Caused them more pain.

So maybe you are all a little beyond messed up.

Made for each other, like that soulmate shit implies.

You shake your head at that thought, dispelling it into the ether, which gets you a weird look from Evelyn as she finishes with your bandage.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping right.”

“Chest pain?” Her hands hover near your chest, but move away as you shake your head.

“No, shoulder and upper back, think I’ve accidentally pulled something.” She frowns.

“I thought I told you to not work out or put unnecessary strain on your body as you heal.” You know what it’s from, and it’s definitely not that.

“I haven’t been working out or lifting anything heavy, I promise. I’m just an old man.” You joke, she rolls your eyes at you as you sit up, taking the glass of water Olivia offers you.

“Let me know if it keeps up, and I’ll see if I can’t figure out what it is, and get you something for it.” She can’t know and won’t be able to get you anything, but still you nod.

“Am I allowed to put my shirt back on Doc, or do you just want to ogle me some more?” You joke, this earns you a slap on the shoulder by a now gloveless hand just after Olivia hands you a chocolate chip cookie.

“Thought you were making pasta?” You get off the table and take a bite out of your cookie as Olivia smiles at you, and Evelyn starts cleaning up.

“I am, but good patients get rewards.”

“What am I, five?” You joke, Olivia reaches out as if to take the cookie out of your hand, you take a step back. “I prefer your cookies over any stupid little toy.” Olivia’s smile is bright, and if you weren’t gay and she didn’t have a soulmate, she could have been your type. She turns around, planting a kiss on Evenlyn’s cheek as she passes her on her way to grab ingredients for the dinner she is going to make for you all.

You lean on the kitchen counter and munch on your cookie, mindful to stay in the background and out of the way for them both as they move around each other with ease. Evelyn cleaning up medical supplies and the makeshift sickbed, Olivia starting to cook dinner.

You don’t want to bring up your soulmates with either of them, since you know their stance on it all is opposite of yours, since they are themselves soulmates. You’ve had plenty of arguments about this both drunk and mostly sober. You think soulmates make one vulnerable and just bring misery in the end, they think it brings strength and that you should enjoy what good you can have in life.

So you know they would just tell you to go to your soulmates, and be with them.

For the rest of your life.

Ugh.

You’re fine on (mostly) your own, thanks.

—---

This time, when the universe decides it’s time for some light fuckery, it’s Logan. On his own. And it’s not while you are working.

Not that it makes it any better.

You are taking it slow, the bar you find yourself in isn’t the fanciest thing, which suits you perfectly. The tables are mostly clean and the floor has seen better days, but they have several types of beer on tap and in bottles, a pool table, and even two shuffleboards. All in all, very casual, somewhere you could sit alone, or join a random group playing one of the games. If money sometimes exchanged hands, both between players and spectators, nobody gave a shit.

You had been a few times before, always enjoying yourself. You’re not even drinking this time, sticking to soda as much as you want to have a proper drink. You had just needed to get out of your apartment, and though you long to feel the burn of alcohol pass over them, you know it won’t heal any faster, so if you can just keep from drinking for a little longer, you can get back to the normal state of things quicker.

Well, as normal as they can get after the universe decided to change the core of your life. You were not one for company, at least not permanently.

Currently you are sitting at a table, watching two long bearded and bald men play pool, making snide comments back and forth. You had made a bet on the man with the scarred ear, but he is losing, pretty badly.

Oh well, 20 bucks isn’t the end of the world.

What kind of feels like it though, is when you spot Logan walking into the bar. He’s wearing normal clothes this time, just some jeans, boots, and a green flannel. He glances around the bar, you duck your head in the hope that he doesn’t see you.

You don’t hope for long though, as a very full glass of what looks like whiskey is sat down next to your soda, and the chair on the other side of the table becomes occupied.

“Logan.” Your uttering of his name in greeting is icy, your name falling from his lips are decidedly less so.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling your shoulders ease up. Which annoys you so much, he’s just arrived, and he’s already making you feel better. You want to go, to leave, even as your loosening muscles reminds you that staying for a little bit will stave off side effects of your unfortunately shared bond.

“Drinking.” He grunts, taking a sip of his glass. You roll your eyes and look at him for a few moments, head swirling with thoughts. You settle on one, just to have something to say as you stall and try to figure out how much time you need to feel more than just a little less shitty, though you can’t help but be actually curious as you ask.

“Can you even get drunk with your healing shit?” Logan frowns, and you wonder if that’s his default. You don’t ask about that though.

“With some effort.”

“Why the fuck even be in a bar then?” Your tone is still not kind, even as you feel your shoulders ache just a little bit less, like you had just massaged over a good spot. He shrugs.

“Company I guess.” It’s your turn to frown.

“I have no interest in being company. Get away from me Logan, or I will make you go away.” You know you should stay close longer so you can also stay away longer, but you are still stubborn, not wanting the fuckery that is soulmates.

At least if you just stay in the same room, it should help, you think.

You hope. No need to stay close in the slightest.

He takes you in, quickly glancing at you from top to toe.

“I -“ You don’t let him speak.

“What did I just say Logan?” He scowls at you, you glare back at him, but let him speak when he opens his mouth this time.

“I don’t like it.” Logan reluctantly admits as the scowl stays on his face. “This being the way we are going about things.” He clarifies.

“Though shit.” He tilts his head at you, scowl turning into more of a squint.

“Are you always this combative?” You feel like a street dog on high alert, barking in warning.

“Fuck off.”

“Look-” And when barks don’t work……

“You had your warning.” You say as you grab your knife from your left leg. You stab it into his hand, aiming for the skin between where the claws go through his hand, hitting the jackpot as red seeps around the knife and the tip of it burrows into the table. Seconds later there is warm and sharp metal pushing your chin up. You grin and waggle a finger at him.

“Nah ah, mortal, remember?” You twist the knife around once for good measure, making him grunt in pain, and then pull it out of his hand. You already know you are banned from this bar for life, but you don’t care. His claws retract, this time you realize it actually makes a sound. Huh.

“So you are always this combative.” Logan grits out between his clenched teeth, as his hand heals itself, leaving behind nothing but the blood that spilled out where you stabbed him.

“Fellas, time to go.” A bouncer suddenly stands in front of your table now, a t-shirt with security over his chest in big white letters. He’s huge, towering over both you and Logan, arms ready at his sides, eyes flicking between the two of you. You see Logan seize him up, and for a moment you wonder if he is going to fight the man, but his eyes go to you as you get off your chair.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You put your knife away. “Again, fuck off Logan.” You show him the finger as you walk out. He’s just steps behind you, clearly no longer welcome in the bar either, but he keeps his distance as you both go out of the door.

You have no idea where he's going, and you have no plans now, so you start walking in the direction of home.

After gaining some distance, you look over your shoulder. You don’t want to be followed. Logan is standing just outside of the bar, looking at your retreating back, but he takes a step forward as your eyes connect with his. You show him the finger again as you disappear around a corner.

You rub your forehead as you are out of sight, annoyance cursing through you. You think some of it might be his.

Fuck, you wish you could get drunk right now. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be good for your healing. And you have no idea how bad or good your control over your bonds are when you’re drunk.

Just another thing for future you to figure out, you guess.

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cyarikaplease · 2 days ago

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it comes at night

mothman!joel x f!reader

summary: at your first mothman festival in west virginia you run into a handsome stranger who’s harboring a dark secret

warnings: explicit smut, must be 18 or older to read, monster fucking, drinking

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rearview mirror and raise your eyebrow.

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat.

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks.

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background.

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details.

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant.

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on.

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check-in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices.

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans, and a pair of Converse before heading out with your friends.

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six-pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it.

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time.

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man.

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around.

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave.

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her.

“And what about it?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks.

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs.

“Agreed,” Tara nods.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly.

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction.

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah, so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt.

And now you feel self-conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh, nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname.

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!”

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends.

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind.

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks.

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks.

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says.

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions.

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison.

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman-shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opt for a skirt with the same pair of Converse.

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!”

And with that, you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music.

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.

“You would?” you counter.

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs.

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far.

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now.

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out.

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?”

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state.

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar.

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street.

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me, Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabs your waist as you walk, pulling you closer to him.

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual.

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs.

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired, to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later.

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there, and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you.

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes.

The deranged and devious look in his eyes, as he looks at the physical evidence of how badly you want him, makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again.

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl.

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud.

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp.

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs.

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next.

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling.

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter.

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm.

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you.

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh.

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.”

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night.

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded.

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces.

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says.

“I lost track of time!” you reply.

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds.

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say.

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there are flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him.

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because, after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited about; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word.

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings, and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it?

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter.

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel:

“Hey, will I see you tonight?”

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise, it comes rather quickly.

“Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋”

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two, and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags, there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel.

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you.

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

“Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look.”

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found.

You type out:

“I don’t see you. Where are you?”

He replies:

“Look behind you.”

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found.

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

“I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.”

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday.

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel?

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with “Incoming Call” followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you.

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes.

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead, you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable.

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice.

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes, the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, and turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer to you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him.

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him.

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue, you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough.

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine.

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours.

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious.

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree-covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips, you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never-ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you.

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless.

Eventually, he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you.

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone.

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there are still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness between your legs.

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags.

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state.

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.

They both shake their heads, no and you sigh.

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using.

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag.

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

“Until next time, Luna🦋”

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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camzeecorner · 4 hours ago

Text

Promiscuous 18+

Working for Mr. Sturniolo always seemed straightforward. He was often away, and even when he was home, our paths rarely crossed. Despite his youth, he maintained himself impeccably, and I admired that about him. Our interactions were limited to polite greetings, nothing more. I’d been his maid for three years, having taken over after he fired the previous one for stealing. A year into my employment, he invited me to live with him, a gesture of trust that I accepted without hesitation. At 22, living alone, the prospect of some company was appealing.

Living with him was uncomplicated. His demanding schedule kept him out of the house most of the time. I established a routine, ensuring I worked around the times he entertained guests. The house was expansive, requiring significant time and effort to maintain. Yet, I enjoyed my work. Mr. Sturniolo wasn’t difficult or strict. He had an air of mystery and sophistication that intrigued me, and I found myself looking forward to the rare moments our paths did cross.

“Valoree? My office, please.” Mr. Sturniolo's voice echoed down the hall. He only ever called me to his office when he had important information to share. Walking quickly, I approached his large door, knocking three times before hearing his voice granting me entry.

“Sir, you called for me?” I asked, stepping in. I stood a solid five feet away from his desk, knowing he didn’t like hovering. He cleared his throat, shutting his laptop before readjusting his blazer.

“Yes, I did. How’s your day?” he asked calmly, his face a mask of professionalism.

I offered him a warm smile. “Very good, sir, thank you for asking. And yours?” I returned the kind question.

“It’s uh...” he glanced to the side, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not too bad. Very slow, if I’m honest.” He smiled softly at me, a rare sight that made my heart skip a beat.

I nodded, acknowledging his words, and stood still, waiting for his next move. His eyes lingered on my small frame, making me feel both exposed and intrigued. “Valoree... the reason I called you in was because...” He paused, looking at me with an intensity that made my palms sweat.

I began to shift on my feet, growing increasingly nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and my heart started to race. Had I done something wrong?

“Don’t be so nervous, doll... just sending an invitation your way.” He smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth, and chuckled lightly. My shoulders slumped in relief, and I exhaled a sharp breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Oh! How wonderful to hear. Thank you, sir,” I replied, my voice tinged with excitement.

“No problem, Val. I’ll have everything you need to know emailed to you before 7. Don’t worry about any preparations; it’s all on me. My treat.” His words were reassuring, and I couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” I said, nodding enthusiastically.

He smiled back at me, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Valoree. You’ve been good to me and my home. I wanted to return the favor with a nice dinner.”

My heart warmed at his words, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. He was a true charm, and he knew it. “Thank you, sir,” I replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

“You’re welcome, doll.” His voice was low and smooth. He always called me doll, saying I resembled one. I found it both corny and cute, a charming quirk of his. Just then, his phone chimed, signaling an incoming message. “I’ve gotta take this, shut the door on your way out,” he instructed.

As I left his office, I couldn’t help but think about him. Back in my room, I lay on my bed, thoughts of Mr. Sturniolo swirling in my mind. I couldn’t deny that I found him incredibly attractive. He was undeniably handsome, and the fact that he had two identical brothers only added to his allure. I had met his triplet brothers briefly, just enough for a bit of small talk, but nothing more.

I often imagined what it would be like if Mr. Sturniolo and I were friends. My interactions were mostly limited to his coworkers who came over in the mornings before heading out on business trips with him. I knew my life was small and lonely, but sometimes I thought it was better this way. It kept things simple, even if it meant longing for something more.

A small knock echoed at my door. I pulled myself off the bed and hurried to answer it. Opening the door, I was surprised to find my boss standing there. "Hey, I’ve gotta run somewhere really quick. Get dressed and I’ll meet you out front," he said hurriedly before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

He had never invited me to join him on his errands before. Excitement and curiosity bubbled up inside me as I quickly shut the door and walked to my closet. I picked out a nice sundress and my white pumps. The white dress contrasted beautifully against my smooth brown skin as I slid it on, carefully straightening the bottom to ensure it looked perfect.

I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric one last time before grabbing my purse. My heart was racing with anticipation. What could be so urgent that he needed me to come along? I stepped out of my room and made my way to the front of the house, where he was already waiting by the car.

He glanced up as I approached, a small smile playing on his lips. "You look nice," he remarked, opening the car door for me. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I thanked him and slid into the passenger seat.

As he drove, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. His focus was on the road, but there was a certain intensity in his eyes that made me wonder what was on his mind. The silence between us was comfortable, yet charged with unspoken words. Finally, he broke the silence. "I hope you don't mind me dragging you out like this. I just thought... it might be nice to have some company for a change."

His words caught me off guard, and I found myself smiling. "I don't mind at all," I replied softly. "It's a nice change of pace."

We continued driving, the cityscape giving way to more open roads. I couldn't help but feel a sense of adventure, not knowing where we were headed but trusting him completely.

We arrived roughly about 13 minutes later, stopping in front of a tall, imposing warehouse-like building. Mr. Sturniolo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door with a swift, confident motion. "I’ll be back in about 3 minutes, just sit tight. If someone approaches you, just say you work for me," he instructed, his voice firm yet reassuring as he began to walk away. I smiled and nodded at his words, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "Yes, sir," I replied calmly, watching him disappear into the shadows of the building.

As I sat in the car, the minutes seemed to stretch on longer than they should. The dimly lit surroundings and the eerie silence of the warehouse district made me feel uneasy. I glanced around, trying to distract myself, but my mind kept drifting back to Mr. Sturniolo's instructions. Suddenly, I noticed a figure approaching from the corner of my eye. My heart rate quickened as the person drew nearer. Remembering his words, I took a deep breath and prepared myself to say I worked for him, hoping they would pass by without incident.

The figure continued to approach, and I could now make out more details—a tall, burly man with a stern expression. He stopped right next to the car, peering inside. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice gruff and suspicious.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "I work for Mr. Sturniolo," I said as confidently as I could muster. The man scrutinized me for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"Alright," he finally said, stepping back. "Just making sure. This area isn't safe for strangers."

With that, he walked away, and I let out a sigh of relief. Moments later, Mr. Sturniolo returned, a small, satisfied smile on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked as he got back into the car.

"Yes, sir," I replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and excitement.

When we arrived back home, Mr. Sturniolo parked the car and turned to me. "Remember, dinner is at 8 PM. Everything you need to know has been emailed to you," he reminded me before heading inside.

I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

I went straight to my room, eager to see what awaited me. As soon as I opened the door, my eyes were drawn to the beautiful dress laid out across my bed. A note was placed delicately on top, reading, "For tonight - Mr. Sturniolo."

I picked up the dress, admiring its elegance and the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. With a smile, I started getting ready for what promised to be an unforgettable evening.

As the clock ticked closer to 8 PM, I finished getting ready, carefully putting on the dress Mr. Sturniolo had left for me. It fit perfectly, making me feel more confident and excited for the evening.

I made my way downstairs, where Mr. Sturniolo was already waiting. He looked up as I entered the room, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "You look stunning, Valoree," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than usual.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

We headed to the dining room, where a beautifully set table awaited us. The ambiance was perfect, with soft lighting and a hint of music playing in the background. As we sat down, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation for what the night would bring.

Throughout dinner, Mr. Sturniolo shared the information he had mentioned earlier, discussing various topics and plans. The conversation flowed easily, and I found myself more drawn to him with each passing moment. Dinner began with a light appetizer, and as we started eating, Mr. Sturniolo poured us each a glass of wine. He raised his glass, and I followed suit.

"To a successful evening," I echoed, clinking my glass against his. The wine was delicious, and it wasn't long before I felt its warmth spreading through me.

"So, Valoree, tell me more about yourself," he began, his tone casual but genuinely interested. "We've worked together for a while, but I feel like there's still so much I don't know about you."

I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease with the alcohol loosening my nerves. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. I grew up in a small town, always dreamed of coming to the city. I guess you could say I'm still adjusting to the fast pace of it all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "The city can be overwhelming, but it has its charms. What's been the biggest adjustment for you?"

"Probably the noise," I admitted with a laugh. "Back home, it was so quiet at night. Here, there's always something happening. It took me a while to get used to it."

"I can imagine," he said, refilling our glasses. "But you've adapted well. You're doing a great job here."

"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. "I really appreciate that."

"Please, call me Chris," he insisted, a playful smile on his lips. "We're off the clock now."

"Alright, Chris," I said, testing the name on my tongue. It felt strange but good. "What about you? What's your story?"

He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "Oh, where to begin? I grew up here, in the city. Always knew I wanted to go into business. It's been a long journey, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Any regrets?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Not many," he said after a moment. "But if I had to pick one, it would be not taking enough time to enjoy the little things. Life moves fast, and sometimes I forget to slow down."

We continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily as the wine continued to flow. We shared stories, laughed, and learned more about each other. I found myself drawn to his confidence, his intelligence, and the way he seemed to genuinely care about what I had to say.

As the night wore on, we both became a bit more relaxed, our words slurring slightly as the alcohol took its toll. At one point, he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "I'm really glad we did this, Valoree," he said softly. "It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much."

"Me too," I replied, my heart racing at his touch. "It's been a wonderful evening."

We continued to talk, our voices growing softer as the night deepened. The connection between us felt stronger with each passing moment.

“Why don’t we go to my room. It’s much more comfortable in there” He spoke suddenly breaking off my thoughts.

“Oh- okay,” I giggled slightly, the alcohol in my system making me giggle more than usual. I got up, stumbling over my feet a little. We headed into his room through the wide, large doors. He stepped aside, letting me enter first. His room was simple yet inviting, decorated in shades of grey, white, and black. It was casual, just like him. The bed was neatly made, and the floor was spotless. A warm, comforting scent of burning wood filled the air, wrapping me in a sense of coziness.

"It's not often we're alone together," he began, moving beside me to catch a glimpse of my profile. "I've had a fantastic evening with you. It's been a while since I could just relax and have some fun."

I turned slightly to face him. "I'm thrilled you enjoyed your time as much as I did. Dinner was incredible," I beamed. "I didn't know you cooked." He chuckled softly. "I don't. Not often, really." I nodded.

"You look stunning as well." He gazed into my eyes, a fiery passion lighting up the room. I glanced down, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. I nervously bit my lip, a telltale sign of my unease.

"Thank you. You've got great taste," I playfully replied. He stepped closer, sweeping my curls over my shoulder. I observed his face as he inched nearer to me.

"I couldn't picture anyone else in this dress but you. A true doll," he whispered, leaning in by my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

He pulled me closer to his body, wrapping his arm around my torso. “But you’d look much better…” he trailed off, his fingertips delicately tracing the edge of my ribbon. With a swift, practiced motion, he undid the knot, letting the dress flow as it slipped slightly. “With it off.”

I gasped as the cold air kissed my back, making me shiver. I jumped slightly, instinctively clinging to his warm body for comfort. His hands found my bare back, gliding down with a gentle but possessive touch.

“Just as I imagined. Even more beautiful.” He leaned his head back, locking eyes with me, his gaze filled with admiration and desire.

I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but the room was met with silence, too shocked to form words. I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts. “Chris…” I began, my voice barely a whisper. Maybe it was all the alcohol he had consumed moments before that made him feel so powerful.

“Hm?” he questioned, his eyes dark with intent. His lips met my neck, quickly tracing kisses down to my shoulder. His lips were soft and delicate, treating my skin as if it were fragile paper. Carefully caressing me, he massaged my skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. I gasped from the sensation, his lips tracing around me, igniting a fire of pure lust within.

I pulled my body towards him, caught in the intensity of the moment. It was unprofessional to kiss your boss, I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself. My heart raced as I found his face, gently pulling it closer.

I kissed him lightly, our lips brushing softly. “Was that okay?” I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation. “Sweetheart, that’s all I’ve been wanting all night,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

I pulled my body towards him once more, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. A soft moan escaped me as our tongues danced together, a fiery sensation enveloping us. Lost in the intensity, my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently. His hands explored every inch of my body, tracing my curves with a burning desire.

Slowly, I began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, careful not to damage the delicate fabric. As I slipped it off, I couldn't help but admire his perfectly toned chest, the faint outline of a six-pack and the alluring V-line peeking from his trousers. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

I looked up at his face again, my eyes tracing every detail of his striking features. His chiseled jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a gentle smile—all of it captivated me. I couldn't help but smile back at him. "You're very handsome," I whispered, my voice barely audible. His smile widened, and he brought his hand to my cheek, his touch gentle and warm. "Thank you," he murmured, before pulling me in for another kiss.

Our lips met, moving in perfect harmony, each kiss deepening our connection. Suddenly, I felt his hands slide under me, lifting me effortlessly. I gasped, caught off guard by his strength and the sudden movement.

He carried me effortlessly, his strength evident in the way he held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. He walked us to the bed, gently laying me down. His eyes never left mine, filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I want to make this moment unforgettable." His words sent shivers down my spine. As he began to explore my body with his hands and lips, every touch felt electric, igniting a fire within me. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, lost in each other.

He began trailing light feather like kisses down my body. Placing each kiss with love I couldn’t help but feel the wetness between my legs. I bit my lip suppressing the sound.

He placed a kiss right above my heat, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His fingers moved slowly, teasingly, towards my folds. I couldn't help but thrust my hips slightly, desperate for any touch. "Be patient, doll, okay? Can you do that?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire. I nodded eagerly, my breath hitching. "Yes, I can," I replied, my voice trembling with anticipation. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, savoring every sensation he bestowed upon me. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me crave more.

He slowly pulled my legs apart, his eyes never leaving my face. I could feel the intensity of his gaze, a hard stare that made my heart race. Not daring to look at him, I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. Suddenly, I gasped as I felt his mouth attach to my lips, the sensation overwhelming. "Oh—Chris... mm," I whimpered softly, the sound barely escaping my lips. It had been so long since I felt this way with a partner. Life had kept me so busy that I never had time to find someone, and now, every touch, every kiss, felt like a rediscovery of forgotten pleasure.

"Does that feel good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. I nodded, barely able to form any words, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I felt his hair brush against the inner part of my thigh, tickling me slightly and adding to the overwhelming sensations. My body twitched, overpowered by the intensity of the feelings. His tongue lapped up every drop that pooled from me, making it nearly impossible to keep my composure. His tongue moved at a fast pace, expertly working its magic. I sighed deeply, the pleasure coursing through me like a wave, each stroke of his tongue sending shivers down my spine.

I felt his fingers enter into me slowly. Gasping at the feeling i exhaled loudly. “Oh my.. Chris please. Please don’t stop.” I begged and whimper pathetically. I tugged on his hair as he sucked at flicked at my clit. His fingers pushing in and out of me like a machine.

He rubbed my clit slowly in small circles. As he began working his fingers I felt small kisses being placed on my thighs. We were truly making love.

I was so close to coming undone, I was sure he could tell by the way my legs shook slightly. As I felt my legs begin to close instinctively, he grabbed me with his free hand, firmly forcing them to stay open. A whimper escaped my lips, my mouth hanging open as I struggled to hold back. The tension in my body built up, every nerve ending on fire, as his touch drove me closer to the edge.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," I chanted his name over and over, my voice growing more desperate with each repetition. My breaths came heavily and hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Suddenly, I felt the inside of my stomach explode with a rush of intense pleasure, the sensation radiating outwards. Every ounce of tension that had built up within me released all at once, leaving me trembling and breathless, my body finally succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy.

I sighed, beginning to catch my breath. I sat up slightly, resting my body on my elbows. I looked at Chris as he licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Tastes sweeter than I imagined, doll," he chuckled. I smiled at him and wiped my forehead. "I'm glad you enjoyed that as much as I did." I gazed into his eyes, which sparkled with charm as he smiled at me. He pulled my face closer to his and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "I'll go run you a bath. When you're out, I'll have a change of clothes laid out. Sleep in here with me tonight," he explained.

I couldn't help but smile, truly grateful for him and every experience he had shown me tonight. "Thank you, you don't have to do all that. And I can stay in my room, it's totally fine." He shook his head in protest. "No, I want you here with me. I just want to make sure you get a good rest and feel better."

I walked to the bathroom and sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop me completely. The soothing soap bubbles caressed my skin, and I felt every muscle in my body relax. I had never been the type of girl to go crazy over love, but Chris had shown me something different. His gentle and caring tenderness made me realize how wonderful it feels to be treated with such love. As I lay there, soaking in the warmth, I couldn't help but feel grateful for him and the beautiful moments we shared.

𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous

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dogwdabird · 2 days ago

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Silly jjk headcanons that do not involve the reader

I felt like doing this because I like to interpret the mundane things about my favs. not just what it would be like to date them (even though I love those, too) sometimes I just want a little giggle and/or I’m really not in that romantic mood.

-gojo occasionally listens to sexyy red

-he’s trying to broaden his musical horizons 🤷🏻

-inumaki has considered learning a dead/dying language

-not that it would help much with preventing the activation of his cursed speech, but to troll his opponents because they don’t know what language he’s speaking

-panda loves maki’s hair color. that color green.

-he wants to dye his fur one day, but is concerned that human hair dyes will harm his impeccably glossy, beautiful, luscious coat

-itadori loves boba tea of all sorts

-he particularly likes the fruit teas, though

-megumi once wanted to be a botanist

-sukuna (MY LORD AND SAVIOR BOW DOWN 🙇🏻) is an incredible chef, he just ain’t cookin allat. he has plotting and scheming to do

-on the occasion that he DOES cook, though, it’s immaculate. life-changing. absolutely splendid and magnificent in every way possible even though it could very plausibly be human flesh yes I am glazing so what

-nobara wanted to be a stylist/clothing designer

-nanami has an INCREDIBLE spice tolerance

-geto always wanted to get his hair braided. he could not do it on his own (me neither king)

-the girls taught him how

-Mahito may hold off on killing a human that can see him if they recommend him a REAL good book.

-he’s read Kafka and Woolf. he’s a literature enthusiast.

- if he approves of your book, you may save yourself a few days to flee the country with the clothes on your back, a charging pack, and a water bottle! lucky you!

apologies is this isn’t great, it’s my first time doing headcanons

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eternal-love · 9 hours ago

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Lover, you’re on your own

Pairings: Austin Butler x Female!Reader

Summary: After years of your divorce, Austin and you get in each other’s way again. Catch up, know what happened in last few years.

Author’s note: I don’t even know what this plot is but I kinda liked the idea of Austin and Reader finding themselves again. I kinda liked it, idk.

Warning: mentions of divorce, unhealthy relationships, children loss, spousal death, the reader’s been through a shit ton of divorces.

You were inside a café in New York City, enjoying being in your own for a while. After another hectic divorce, the choice of going to a bar wasn’t even on your mind anymore.

You started to wonder if you were cursed, you didn’t even care to count how many divorces you’ve had in the last thirteen years. Were you really never good enough to be a long time wife? Or did faith have something else for you in store? Whatever it was, life treated you like trash.

You drank your coffee quietly as she scrolled through your phone, you heard the door of the café open and close. You were very perceptive of who came in, who left, who coughed, who laughed. And once you saw who came in, you had to do a double take.

You knew that guy— man. He wasn’t a young guy anymore but a man. Austin. All those years ago and you still remembered him. Of course you had seen his rapid success these last years, he was everywhere. But you were in his past and you understood it. You didn’t expect anything but you wouldn’t lie if you said you didn’t want him to at least recognize you, wave at you or at least smile and nod his head.

You focused on your overpriced coffee and muffin, stealing gentle glances towards him. Until one time, you both made eye contact, he was going to turn back to his phone but immediately turned back again to see you. Oh, he recognized you!

“Hey.” His deep voice spoke as he reached your small table. You looked up.

“Austin. Wow. Hi!” You said, as if you had just seen him. “Oh my goodness, it’s been so long.” You stood up, greeting him with a hug.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up now.” He smiled at you. Whistling a little.

“I could say the same about you.” You said, sitting down again. Thank God he recognized you.

“Wow. I just can’t believe it. It’s been what… ten years?”

“Thirteen.” You corrected him. His eyes widened.

“Thirteen years? Damn, that long? He chuckled. “What are you doing in New York anyways. You used to tell me how much you hated the city.”

“A girl can change. And I find that bars here serve much better drinks.” You chuckled with him, then there was a calm silence before he spoke up.

“I heard you got married. Who’s the lucky guy?”

You sighed, showing him your empty right hand. Oh, so divorced already?

“How long?” He asked.

“Two years married. It was just a disagreement between us. We weren’t looking for the same shit in the long run anyways.” You sighed. It was better to say that than to reveal that your last husband left you for a barely legal girl.

“Two years. Damn.” Austin pressed his lips together, he looked away as he brought the cup to his lips.

“I heard you’re dating a model. Cindy Crawford’s daughter. That’s nice, it give you some… it factor.” You said, you were being half sarcastic and half truthful.

“Ah. Yes, Kaia.” He said, he really didn’t sound enthusiastic. “Everything is going just fucking peachy.” He said, a smirk on his lips.

You nod. The whole tired voice went over your head. He was dating a model, what else could a man wish for? If not a model with long limbs.

“Listen. I’m filming a movie right not but— I surely can make time to see you again. You said you drink, right?”

Your eyes immediately lit up, of course you could make time for him. Well, you wanted to catch up. That’s all.

“Sure. Yeah, what day?”

It was a cold night. But inside the bar it was cozy. You both had ordered, he ordered an Old-Fashioned and you ordered a Cosmopolitan.

You started drinking the night away, you weren’t outright tipsy, but the alcohol was getting to your head.

“I really, really wanted to ask. What’s the true reason behind your divorce?” He asked as he held his glass on his big hands.

You sighed. You were already here. You had known him forever. Yes, you two might have not seen each other in more than a decade, but beforehand you were husband and wife. You shouldn’t be honest at least.

“He cheated on me. With the neighbor.” You confessed, he gasped softly, his hand going to his mouth. “Yeah. She was nineteen, now he’s dating her.”

“What a motherfucker…” Austin said, rubbing his chin.

“I’m starting to believe I curse every guy that gives me a ring. Seriously, five failed marriages. I must be cursed.” You sighed, his eyes widened even more.

“Five you say?” His voice was incredulous. Five. Five marriages. He was your first, of course. “What about the other three? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“My second husband, Tyler, we weren’t a match made in heaven. I guess he scared me a lot. He would drink his paycheck away. We divorced because his incompetent ass went to rehab.” You sighed as you played with the napkins.

“Then there was Eric, he was boring. He spent more time on his office than he did with me. He wasn’t so bad, he was just distant, very. He loved his job more than he ever loved me. He didn’t even talk to me, he just left the divorce papers in the kitchen. He had left a day prior.”

“Then there was… Nate.” You sighed, looking down again at the napkin you’ve been ripping apart. “He wasn’t perfect. Indeed he could be very moody and he yelled all the time. But I cared for him. I didn’t expect him to be taken from me. No wife does. By I learned to accept it. Now I remember him from time to time. I take flowers to his grave whenever I can.”

Austin’s eyes softened as he reached out his hand and placed it upon your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. My goodness, where did you find those bastards to marry?

“Got any kids?” He asked you. Softly. Threading carefully.

“I tried. After we lost our boy, I really tried to get pregnant again. I wasn’t able to.” You said softly, you had at least wanted a baby. Not because you thought it would fulfill you. That was crap. But you wanted a kid so that you wouldn’t be so alone. “But I’m also grateful I never had a kid. It wouldn’t have been healthy if I had the kid calling three men daddy.”

“That’s true.” Austin said, taking a sip from his glass and nodding his head. “Listen. I know that you might think that I’ve forgotten about our baby. I haven’t. I visit the grave whenever I can. It’s just hard for me. Still. To believe he would have been thirteen this year.”

Austin looked down again. Taking your hand in his, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

Your baby boy would have been thirteen this year. How time flies.

You and Austin had been eighteen when you had a shotgun wedding because he knocked you up. He had been nervous but so happy. I mean, a tiny baby? He adored tiny babies. It was a happy married albeit you two didn’t know what to do.

But then, it happened, you delivered a beautiful baby boy. A tiny black-haired beauty, he had been a fighter, he had tried to beat the heat stroke that took him. You cried for days, he was there by your side, but he was young too and he was battling with his own demons, he quite literally filled for divorce out of nowhere, when you needed him the most.

You never saw each other again until now.

“I sometimes wonder, how different my life would be if he had lived.” Austin said softly, looking at you.

“Me too.” You wanted to cry, but you held back. You already cried a lot to your first child. You cried in private, like a prayer.

“Maybe we should’ve stayed married.” Austin said, almost with a hint of hopelessness. You stared up at him, a small smile on your lips.

“You were the best of them all.” You said, a smile on your lips. For all his faults, back then he was a kid too, and he mourned in whatever way he found fit.

“What a terrifying thought,” he finished his Old-Fashioned and laughed once again, shaking his head as he licked his lips. “Jesus Christ, don’t say that.”

You laughed together again, as you had done when you were younger. As you used to do late at night. And for some hours, you were happy by his side. He took this as an opportunity to talk about him now.

“You know, my girlfriend and I are having problems. Last thing I knew was that she fucked this comedian guy, from SNL…”

As you waited for a taxi, you smoked together. Maybe this could be the last time you two saw each other. Your lives were the total opposite now. He was a successful actor with a girlfriend and you were an office worker, who spent all her time working or outside.

But you couldn’t deny that when he talked, you stared at his lips, he stared at yours. The way he smoked, the way he held the cigarette.

“Aren’t you lonely now? I mean, you’re all alone.” Austin asked as he threw the ash on the floor.

“I’m trying to learn how to be alone. It will be my next year’s resolution. Stay away from dating.” You chuckled, you then took a drag from your cigarette. “But yes. I can’t get lonely from time to time. I have been someone’s wife for too long, being and living with someone changed the way you feel once they’re gone.”

“I can relate. Kaia and I— we never even got to live together before everything went south. All just because of her stupid parents and her stupid pap walks. It’s exhausting, really.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with this empty hand. “And now that I finally put my limits. She’s all mad at me, with her team sending these ridiculous articles, making me the bad guy.”

“Hey, it’ll get better.” You said, patting his shoulder. “That’s what you get for dating a twenty-something year old.” You patted his shoulder a bit more playfully.

You two started playing with one another, pushing each other playfully, the cigarettes on the floor already. Until he cornered you in the brick wall.

He leaned in and kissed you, you followed the kiss, at first it started slow but it escalated quickly. His tongue entered your mouth, both your tongues danced with one another, his hand went to your neck, pressing it softly. You both could taste the cigarette and liquor on your lips and mouths.

You hadn’t kissed someone in so long, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t. No. Not like this. No, you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t say anymore.

So after a while, you pushed him off you gently. He was out of breath, he kicked his lips, his hand going to the side of your head, he leaned down.

“You could survive another man…” He basically purred out, his lips on a smirk.

“It wouldn’t work between us.” You said. Looking into his eyes.

“Why not?” He asked, his eyes only showed confusion.

He would forget you, and you would forget him. For the love of God, never once in thirteen years did he try to contact you, and viceversa. You both would remember your baby boy, but not one another. You two would disappear into each other’s memory until you were old and wrinkly, telling your grandchildren or whatever young person asked about your youth. Talking about how you had a shotgun wedding. Of how you two lost your baby. About how you two continued each other’s lives like strangers.

“We’re too different now.” You said, it was all you could mutter.

Not all the bottled up pain you had from when he just left you, grieving and alone. Nothing. You just couldn’t even talk about it anymore.

He stared at you and nodded. You know what? He understood. He understood where you came from. He was a dick back then. And he couldn’t expect you to jump into his arms after all the men you went through, after what you went through with him.

“It’s alright.” He said, pulling away from you. “I guess I should go back to my apartment, it’s late.” He cleared his throat and came closer to hug you. “It was great seeing you again. I hope we see each other walking by or something. Goodbye.”

He knew he was lying. He was pleased to see you, but every time he looked at you, he saw your younger self. He saw the baby. He saw all the bad things. He loved you once. Not anymore. He had a special place for you in his memory.

But it would be the last time you two saw each other.

As you watched him walk away, you took deep breaths. That was it. You were alone once again. As you had been before he walked into the café. You had no one to turn to tomorrow.

As a taxi pulled to the side, you got in and told the driver the address of the hotel you were staying at.

You were all on your own.

I won’t have any free time from now on so… I’ll try to really write whenever I have time.

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #Austin butler x female!reader

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hexellent · 1 year ago

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Hey you!! Yeah you!! You wanna plot something?? Ships?? Shenanigans?? Events?? Just wanna yell about your ideas??? HIT THAT LIKE BUTTON and I can appear in your dms like a telemarketer calling about your cars extended warranty!!

#don't yell at me i'll cry {ooc}#don’t ask me where this feral energy came from #I don’t know but I’m enthusiastic about it #I feel like spamton lmao

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remotewatch · 3 months ago

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for this simp I have no sympathy 💳🏃‍♀️

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 3.5k wc

summary: Jack’s a great boss. He doesn’t care how often you work remote, the benefits are actually competitive, and he lets you run up his Amex as long as you’ll spit in his coffee. Wait, what?

cw: shameless smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), sugaring, inappropriate workplace dynamics, findom, submissive loser jack, ooc (he’s at the office), spit kink, semi public sex?, he calls the reader a bitch but doesn’t mean it, somehow a plot snuck in here, def needs a part 2 eventually

AN: this one goes out to @augustghosts !!! Happy happy birthday and thank you for matching my freak mwah

minors dni pls I don’t want y’all thinking this is realistic or healthy

It’s a technically perfect relationship, as much as you’re aware of the risk of it all going to shit at any moment. Somehow that thought always pops back up at the jewelry counter. Your eyes trace aloofly over the puddles of diamonds littering the cobalt velvet tray before you and finally land on a comparatively understated anklet.

“I’ll take this one, please.”

“Excellent choice, madam.”

You waste no time shoving the evidence of your purchases into an overstuffed trash can prior to slipping the anklet on and dashing to the coffee shop closest to your building. As you wait outside, you can’t help but wonder if you’re visible from Jack’s office. You absolutely are, and he’s been glued to his window like a creep trying to pick your hair out of the crowd since the moment you left, but there’s no way for you to know that.

The line moves faster than usual, and, soon enough, you’re balancing 4 orders of varying sizes with your work tote in one hand and carefully removing the lid of Jack’s cup with the other. Black with half a pump of sugar free vanilla and the massive glob of spit you deposit in there as you traverse the crosswalk.

It had started rather innocuously, and you probably wouldn’t have ever picked up on anything if he didn’t have such an awful poker face. There was a work dinner, some dick of an exec retiring, and out of the corner of your eye you’d spotted Jack placing his personal card in with his company one when the bill came around. That was a little weird. It was much weirder that he looked like you’d caught him pissing in the break room sink when he realized you’d noticed.

Once you had, it was hard not to spot the gunmetal edge of his black card peeking out from under the company one at every single outing, though you made a point to feign ignorance. You’d asked one of your coworkers about it after you had to skip one night to visit family, but she was just as clueless as you felt.

“I was sitting next to him the whole night. He only used one card,” That forced you to backpedal and pretend you must have been mistaken; no sense in drumming up gossip before getting to the bottom of whatever it was.

Still, work was work, and things had been so hectic that the guilty look on Jack’s face had nearly faded from your memory by the time you came storming off the elevator two weeks later, drenched from forgetting your umbrella, one heel broken, and late for the first time since you’d been hired. You’d been so focused on wringing out your sweater that you had no chance of hearing or seeing him round the corner until he was already crashing into you and spilling (thankfully) lukewarm coffee down the both of you. If that didn’t push you over the edge, his attempt at a joke to lighten the situation certainly did.

“God, Jack, is everything a fucking game to you?! Fuck off!!” came flying out before you could stop it. Your only saving grace was that your entire team was already in a meeting across the floor, but that didn’t stop you from retreating to the bathroom and leaving him no time to say anything.

You were so beyond screwed. You’d busted your ass to get this job and had completely blown it over spilled coffee of all things. By the time you’d dried yourself to a somewhat acceptable level and crept over to the closed door of his corner office, the stomach-dropping dread of plunging back into the job market was already settling in.

There’s a weird clatter when you knock, and Jack looks the slightest bit frazzled when he opens the door, a few curls of his usually annoyingly perfect hair sticking up on one side.

“Can I apologize?” He stifles the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s afraid you’ll scream at him again.

“You don’t need to apologize, but sure. Come in.” At any other time, you’d feel dangerously comfortable in his office. It’s not corporate at all: so packed with weathered sunshine-smelling afghans and little wooden beach trinkets that seem to multiply every time you leave that it feels more like an antique store than a place of business. Today, the sight of it all makes you nauseous as you try to do damage control.

Thankfully, he cuts you off before the stammering mess of a groveling attempt unravels completely.

“Really, it’s fine. Do you think I can afford to fire anyone right now?”

“I guess not?”

He can’t quite conceal a wince when he sees the puddle you’re leaving on the carpet despite your best efforts.

“Well, you can’t work all day dressed like that. Would you go across the street and let me get you something new? I’ll call and tell them you’re coming.”

“Jack, I’m not going to Loro Piana for a change of clothes. It’s one day, it’ll be fine-“

“Please? And then we can forget all about this and just focus.” Fuck. His mouth looks so good asking nicely. The implications are not lost on you, that you’re crossing a VERY stark line here, but the way he’s looking at you with those perfect fucking doe eyes has your brain buzzing too loudly to care as much as you probably should.

The staff are even more attentive than you’d expect, to an almost unnerving degree. You’ve barely set one foot in the door before your coat and bag are lifted off you and you’re whisked up to one of their VIC suites. There’s already a rack waiting for you, but the sales associate’s not so subtle mention of a shower in the suite seizes your attention. Even though it’s only ten minutes, the water pressure and whatever is in that body wash make you feel like you’ve fast forwarded through a week at the spa. When you step out and look around for your old outfit, you’re timidly informed that they’ve been taken to the dry cleaner as per the cardholder’s request.

“Oh, yes. Thank you, I must have forgotten,” you mutter in a deeply unconvincing attempt to give the impression you’ve been in a dressing room this nice before. As tempting as it is to thumb through all of your options, you can’t afford to waste any more time and throw on the first two pieces on the rack: an ecru knit trouser and short sleeved sweater set. One of the price tags flips over as you tug them from their hangers, and you have to take a deep breath to stave off the tunnel vision the number on it inspires.

Of course, they both fit perfectly and feel like an absolute dream. As soon as you begin to move towards the door, the same sales associate pipes up again.

“Mr. Schlossberg mentioned that you were also interested in some leather goods. Is that still the case?” You turn to see a massive array of belts atop a disgustingly ornate glass (or is that crystal?) table along the back wall with a dozen pairs each of coordinating loafers, oxfords, and pumps underneath. A small sliver of guilt turns over in your gut; you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, that line has already been crossed, and you can’t even pretend it’s a difficult decision.

“Yes, I was! Thank you so much for reminding me!”

She helps you settle on a pair of gleaming chestnut loafers with a narrow matching belt, and you choose not to dwell on how Jack knows your exact clothing and shoe size.

You hate how much of a spring it puts in your step as you hurry back across the street. The meeting is somehow still going on, so you quickly pop over to Jack’s office to thank him again and definitely not to show off how sweet your ass looks in these pants.

You’re so ecstatic from the whiplash of remaining employed after telling your boss to fuck off right to his face that you stupidly swing his door open without knocking first.

Jack slams his laptop shut, but the audio pause is delayed, and the there’s nowhere for him to hide as its speakers blare out clear as day:

“-my perfect good boy. Give me all your cum. Yeah, you’re my favorite ATM.”

The secondhand embarrassment is absolutely brutal, so you imagine his stomach is falling out of his ass right about now. He purses his lips together as he stands up painfully slow, fingertips pressed to the desk so hard they’ve lost color. God, he’s never this quiet. By the time he stalks over to your side of the desk and leans back against it, your heart is pounding so erratically you think you might drop dead right there on his pashmina rug. The new outfit suddenly feels heavier, like every wordless second he spends squinting at you adds a few ounces to the knit. Your suppressed sigh of relief forces its way out of your nose when the next words out of Jack’s mouth aren’t “go pack your desk”.

“Do you plan on telling anyone about that?” His expression is totally unreadable and it’s freaking you out; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him completely serious, even in the most dire of time crunches.

“No. Am I still getting fired?” This time, Jack lets a smile bloom across his face like he couldn’t stamp it down if he tried.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do that.”

Once again, some would say stupidly, your relief emboldens you.

“Why do you use two cards when we all go out?”

He gives your outfit a slow once over that would be repulsive coming from anyone else before glancing at the idle laptop, then back at you with a sprinkle of condescension mixed with his normal charisma.

“I like buying you shit.”

The frankness of it all is embarrassingly hot.

“And it doesn’t feel the same using the company card?”

“Not at all.”

That sliver of guilt is back, but it feels more obligatory than genuine. It’s currently being steamrolled by carnal curiosity.

“Why do you like it?” Jack’s eyes are practically sparkling with anticipation as he glances down.

“Why didn’t you turn down the belt?”

He presses his luck when you hesitate to respond. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying nice things, you know.” Still, nothing, so he strolls over to the floor safe and hands you a bulging cash envelope from its contents.

“For your rent, or whatever. So you know I’m serious. You don’t have to do anything else, but I want to ask for one favor before you get back to work.”

Your throat dries up, and your expression must betray your assumption and feelings because he’s quickly correcting you with a small chuckle:

“No, not that,” as he’s twisting the lid off his thermos and handing it to you. That’s weird, but whatever. You’ll happily take drinking out of his mug over bruising your throat if it comes down to it. Jack gently pushes the rim down away from your mouth with two spread fingers when you go to take a sip.

“Would you spit in it? Please?” This time, you don’t give your doubts a chance to articulate themselves.

It hits the insulated inner wall with a shrill ping and drips slowly down into Jack’s coffee, and before you have a chance to fuck this up, you’re forcing the tumbler back into his hands and retreating to the doorway, envelope clutched in a death grip.

“You have a call at eleven. It’ll become my problem if you’re late again, so maybe figure something out.” you suggest on your way out. Just as the door clicks shut, you fail to stop yourself from turning back and get an eyeful of him swirling the mixture like he’s at a wine tasting and gulping it down in one shot.

Your new arrangement develops rather quickly after that. Now that he’s no longer trying to conceal his interests, Jack is practically falling at your feet whenever the two of you are alone. The rest of the team is already used to you showing up early and staying late, so what difference does it make in their eyes if you’re actually doing work or dragging him around his office by his tie and beating a raise out of him with his own shoes? Initially, you shy away from indulging as much as he’d like and keep your authorized user status just for groceries, rent, the boring shit. It’s not until the first time he sits you down in his chair with his laptop open and tells you not to stop shopping until you’re squeezing his tongue that you allow yourself to see the real appeal of having an unlimited credit line. He’s already got your info on autofill; god, what a thoughtful little freak, you think as you book recurring massage after manicure after private museum tour after clearing out your Bergdorf cart. The digits and commas are blurring before your eyes as you struggle to navigate the Cartier homepage, and soon you’re just clicking add to cart on anything that slightly catches your attention. You cursor twitches once, twice, in time with the unrelenting work of his fingers (he refuses to roll up his sleeves, says he loves you sticking to his cuff links), but you manage to click purchase all before focusing your full attention on your incoming orgasm.

Jack tugs his phone out to check his pending charges without letting your clit slip from between his lips, and the elated moan he lets vibrate through you when he sees the final total has you drenching him down to his shirt collar.

Since he’s always this desperate, it’s hard to play along with the little song and dance he does of pretending you need to rein it in. You have to bite your tongue to not laugh and just say “no problem!” every time he requests that you please stay within budget today after his first sip of spit coffee. Obviously, there’s never been one; the only parameter you give yourself is a minimum of two supremely gaudy purchases per week for him to “notice” so you can get the ball rolling. Like today. Your new heels are hideous and feel like they’re lined with steel wool, but they fulfill their duty of catching the attention that was already yours to begin with.

“Those aren’t the shoes you had on this morning.” You don’t even glance up from your monitor.

“Nope.”

“When did you find time to go to Saks again?”

This time, you give him a look like he’s 500 years old and couldn’t rotate a pdf to save his life.

“I was working remote from their cafe. The chairs are really nice.”

“Yeah, they’re real nice in my office, too.” It’s clearly not a suggestion.

As per usual, you elect to sit on Jack’s desk just to needle him. When he lifts your leg to get a better look at the new heels, his nose crinkles up in disgust.

“These things will fuck up your back.”

“They’re car to table only, you should know that.” Your other foot swings around to tuck against his sacrum and nudge him in between your legs.

He’s trying his best to act upset, but you can feel his dick throbbing through his slacks.

“How much did you spend today?” You make a big show of pretending to think for a moment.

“I’m not sure. More than you made?”

“You fucking bitch,” And that second leg is shooting up between you and kicking him back hard enough that he bumps into the filing cabinet.

“I ought to report you to HR for that.” only then does he notice the anklet, glinting wickedly under the soft amber lights. Jack pulls your foot closer and with frighteningly little effort nearly tugs you straight off his desk.

“Is this new, too? How much?” He’s got the same look on his face as when his manners are wearing thin on the phone, all carefully applied nonchalance ruined by the the ravenous impatience in his eyes.

“Ten,” and he straight up shudders. He presses the cool platinum against his cheek, and his eyes slip closed as he jerkily ruts against you. Through three layers of fabric, you can still feel every bend in his pulsing underside vein.

“You didn’t think to ask me first?”

“Why would I? It’s my money.” The choked up sob that spills out of him is abruptly morphed into an irritated groan by a knock at the door.

“Fuck, I can’t deal with this. Get rid of it.”

He’s plunked you into his chair and scuttled under the desk well before you can remind him that that’s not in your job description. Jack pulls your seat close enough to shove his nose right into your cameltoe just as the door swings open and one of your least amicable clients comes stomping in.

“Where the hell is he?! First it was ‘email me in a month’, now his direct line calls are getting dropped! My intern had to show me his fucking Instagram to prove that he was even in town!” And he keeps going, but you struggle to register any of it over Jack ever so politely licking you over your stockings like he’s taken you out for a lovely date first and not at all like he’s using you as a human shield to deflect this moron.

“I’m sorry. He’s not currently available.” Jack vacuums your clit right into his mouth at that, rolling and twisting his tongue over it like it’s a goddamn ring pop.

“That’s a load of horseshit. John’s never worked hard enough to be this fucking unreachable. Where is he?!” Normally, you’d be at least a little concerned about how close this guy looks to throttling you for your boss’s location, but the way Jack’s cheeks stick and unstick to your thighs as he rocks his head as best he can in the confined space is diverting most of your attention.

“I understand your frustration, sir,” your customer service voice wavers as he relentlessly sucks you through the fabric. “But there’s simply nothing I can do. Mr. Schlossberg is in meetings for the rest of the day and specifically asked not to be disturbed.” You press a warning foot against his dick, and he groans so loud you’re forced to squeeze your thighs around his head and cough to muffle it. Luckily, the client is too far up his own ass to notice.

“This is outrageous! He can’t just blow everyone off forever because his name is on the fucking building!”

“Your concerns are duly noted. Can I help you with anything else?” He’s already halfway out the door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” is yelled half at you, half in hope that Jack is in earshot. As soon as the door slams, you’re scooting backwards and pulling him after you by his shirt. Not that you’d have to, as he’s crawling to chase you across the carpet until you’re pressed right up against the floor to ceiling windows and white knuckling his armrests.

“Wolford doesn’t make these anymore!” you protest when he shreds your tights down the middle to lick you properly. You feel more than hear him laugh in response, and you swear you also detect a muffled “womp womp”. He always fingers you like shining up your seat is the whole point, like he’s only doing this to get to crudely lap and slurp the results up from under you just to spit them back onto your clit. You’re beginning to suspect he only took up bouldering to improve their endurance for you.

Jack finally relents when you twist both hands deep into his hair and drag him off of you. It’s gone curlier around the edges from his efforts, and paired with the overly dramatic lip smack and megawatt smile he hits you with, you can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“You don’t seem that broken up about it.” He presses one more kiss to your clit before standing up and turning back to the file on his desk without missing a beat.

“Anyway, T&G wants this cleaned up by Thursday, so we should probably get back to it.” There’s no way he’s serious; he’s just trying to rile you up by pacing around, yapping and aimlessly shuffling papers with bubbles of saliva and pussy juice sliding down his face, but you hate that it works so well. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve wrapped your fingers around Jack’s tie and abruptly pulled him back down onto all fours, sending the unstapled proposal scattering across the floor.

“Nothing will happen to our portfolio if you just shut the fuck up for five minutes,” He’s all too eager to screw the rest of the day’s schedule when he rests his chin between your legs on the chair’s seat and grins cheekily up at you.

“Only five?”

#jack schlossberg #calling all cherry emoji addicts #fawn wearing uggs enjoyers #unreleased Lana enthusiasts #come get ur food #don’t get on my case about verb tenses I know what I’m doing and I’m having fun #you can be the boss slowed reverb #don’t ask me what his job is #I have no business calling him weird or gross when I’m doing all this #tell me i’m your national anthem #jack schlossberg x reader

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