#baby's first online store

[shaba-the-art]

IT'S FINALLY HERE! THE STORE IS NOW OPEN!

Go to https://shabaababa.bigcartel.com for pins, charms, and a bit more!!! And you can also use the code YIPPEE at checkout for 10% off on the final order!

If you have any problems or questions let me know!

[road-kill-eater]

I listed a print of the unicorn drawing up on etsy

[oso-nan]

shelf update! i forget to post these but i cleaned up my top shelf and rearranged some stuff now that im home with all my house of 1000 corpses figs

the taller otis and the spaulding with the gun i found boxless at a comics/collectible store that had a fallout themed speakeasy in the back interestingly enough… i did not go back there. but i got those 2 figs along with one of doctor satan but ive demoted him to bottom shelf privileges till further notice. all 3 were $300 even though it was without the boxes they came in— and the guy said the store owners wont let him sell them separately so i feel a little scammed 😒

it looks sad and emptier than the first time i rearranged my top shelf (pictured below) but im gonna build up a bigger collection of mainly firefly trilogy/tcm stuff up here…

[winemom-culture]

The funny story about the couch find is that I was going to the store for a mattress for my son’s bed. I had already ordered a mattress online, but the shipping has been delayed and he really wanted to stay here in his loft bed tonight. So I said I’ll buy one in person, and then return the online one when it does get here. I swung into the store along the way home separate from my dad and brother who were behind me with a moving trailer going back to my parent’s place for another load. When I found the couch, I called them to get to the store and while semi-sidetracked with that my dad says “let’s go look for mattresses too while we’re here.” We found 8 inch and 10 inch twins that were like mad expensive compared to the one I already bought so I said “nah, I’ll go look at Walmart or Target or something by myself after this” but my dad (maybe out of fear of being dragged around anywhere else) says “I’ll buy this for you” and throws one in my cart and hands me a card. I said hell yeah to that, ring it out, and only notice when I walk out of the store it’s a 10 inch mattress, when my dad def meant to grab 8. So we get it back to the apartment and it is JUST under the railing of this loft frame I got him. When I point out we probably should take it back for an 8 inch or even a 6 inch, my dad says “nah, it won’t fit back in the box now to return. I’ll just build the rail up more.” So now we have my son trapped like a caged animal in this macguyvered bedframe with PVC pipes and I am still so anxious that he’s going to roll right off here in the middle of the night. 

[saphiwrath]

I need a hotline that I can call and complain to about all the petty stuff that I know my friends don't like hearing me say but I still need to yell about to someone

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

i see a post talking doom and gloom about how we'll never escape toxic masculinity. i think about back in 2017 when american girl released their first boy doll, and a review for him went viral in the collecting community. the review was written by a mom, who said they went into the store to get their daughter a doll, only to see their son's eyes light up like fire when he saw a doll that looked like him, and now every night he puts his doll in pajamas and rocks him to sleep. i think about the toddler in my daycare room a few years back who was obsessed with baby dolls, carrying them everywhere, and his mom proudly told us he uses his sisters' old baby dolls and wants to be just like them. that toddler saw another toddler crying one day and gave her the doll he had to cheer her up. i think about the eight-year-old boy i saw a few years back, excitedly waving around raya's sword in a target checkout line like all his dreams were coming true. there was a video on my instagram the other day of a little boy at disneyworld crying with joy upon meeting his hero, mulan. i think about the voice actor for bow in the she-ra reboot saying his nephews only wanted adora action figures. celebrity men are wearing dresses on tv now. last halloween i saw a little boy dressed as elsa. i went to go see spiderverse over the summer, and in the line ahead of me was a boy who couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen, bouncing and beaming, giddy with excitement over getting to see the female-led romance movie elemental. i think about the five-year-old boy at my library who breathlessly asked me where the pinkalicious books were, eyes widening when i had more on my cart, his mom explaining that he is all about pinkalicious and fancy nancy. i saw so many pictures online of boys and men dressed in pink to see barbie. teenage boys are gonna open their phones and see the man who wrote fucking game of thrones dressed in pink to see barbie. when i was a kid, a boy dressing in pink was practically a social death sentence. there are boys running around in pink on my street right now.

[sooptea]

I made the mistake of play testing a few games I was planning to give as a Christmas present and now I've grown attached , help

[iluvloganhowlett]

DATING HUGH JACKMAN HCS ࣪𖤐

sfw headcannons of what i imagine it like to date hugh jackman!

warnings: tbh none j a lot of fluff

- hugh is literally the biggest gentleman there is; he’s big on holding open doors, pulling out chairs, opening car doors, paying for dinner, all that stuff

- u def hang around set with him and the rest of the cast

^^ i feel like bc of this, u and ryan would probably end up becoming pretty good friends considering how close him and hugh are

- he does everything in his power to try and make you laugh. it literally brings him sm joy js to even hear a little giggle come out of your mouth

- he’s always talking about u in interviews

^^ stg the host will try and talk ab the show and he’s all “oh yeah y/n gets me lunch everyday on set and brings it to my trailer”

- he’s a big teddy bear.

- i j know this man is the biggest cuddler there is man

- he’s so big on physical touch

- somehow, he manages to snatch tiny props from the set and bring them home to you, talking about some “baby i got you something from on set”

- idk how i thought of this but i feel like he’d sometimes pull pranks on you at home by randomly switching to his american accent mid convo / mid sentence

^^ then he’d end up laughing really hard at the shocked look on your face

- he’d do everything in his power to get you a small cameo or role in any of his movies just to have an excuse to be around you more

- he’d also try to get you invited to interviews

- like i said earlier, he’s a gentleman; he’d fs buy you anything and everything you want

^^ lit as soon as you even look at something in a store a certain way, he’ll either buy it online when you’re home or he’ll sneak away and bring it to the register without you knowing

- the first thing he’d do in the morning is kiss you no matter where it may be; your neck, lips, shoulders, collarbone, back even. he’d j do it

- to focus on you instead of hugh, you find him acting to be adorable and hot at the same time

^^ you’d def gush over how he acts when he makes a mistake, or even the shift from in character to out of character when the director yells cut

alr chat that’s it but i love hugh😯

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod

[oldmenthusiast]

18+ content mdni

bookshop owner!joel miller x fem plus size reader

warnings: smut, age gap, tension, reader is in her 20s and joel in his 50s, semi public sex, reader wears glasses, not proofread

it takes many job interviews for joel to hire someone until he finds you. you're not the first young thing to apply for the job, not the most qualified either but joel likes how modest you are.

he also likes the way you avoid his gaze if he stares too long, or how you keep pushing your glasses every time they slide down your nose.

those aren't the only things he notices about you because he's become very observant due to his age; it definitely doesn't have to do with some strange infatuation over you, no.

when your hands firmly pull your sundress down if it's too windy, when you smack your own forehead if you mix up the order of the books before switching them again. joel notices that too but it doesn't necessarily mean anything.

“I’ve taken care of the online orders, mister miller.” you inform him as sweet as ever and joel’s crooked smile appears on instinct.

“thank you, sweetheart. you know how people my age are with those machines.”

you're kind enough to shake your head at his response.

“I think you're doing great,sir.” you tell him and it warms his cold heart to the core.

“go home, sugar. I'll close up soon.” he mutters with the same half smile and watches you go but not without wishing him a good day.

during peak season, the bookshop gets naturally busy but to the point where joel and you have to stay overtime.

he doesn't ask it of you but you insist.

“I can't let you do all that by yourself.” you mutter with a faint pout that he wants to kiss away.

“can’t pay you for overtime,sugar—”

“just let me do this for you,sir.” you cut him off and joel doesn't argue further.

that's how his following nights go. you sit together in the back of the store, tons of books and papers surrounding you as you work. you assist him with every single thing he needs and even if you lack knowledge in some parts, you learn it for him.

peak season ends, the bookshop is quiet and your shift ends but you somehow still sit at the back of the store instead of going home. joel sits across you while holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

“a girl your age should go out with friends and have fun, not rot in here with me.” joel tells you with a hint of amusement in his tone.

even if he's right, you do not agree.

“I like it here, it's peaceful..” you explain and as usual your gaze doesn't linger on his. you look away when joel doesn't and it makes the man smile.

“I like it too.” he mutters after a while and tips his head back to down the rest of his beer.

there's hidden intent behind his reply, or maybe just the feeling of wanting to say something more, but joel keeps quiet. whether you notice it or no, you don't say.

joel doesn't pride himself to be the best boss but at least he's a good enough one. that's what he tells himself when your most recent ex partner marches in his bookshop to cause a scene but joel sends him back with a bruised eye and some vulgar words.

it's probably the first time someone has stood up for you like that but it's more special because it comes from joel.

whether it's out of gratitude or suppressed emotions, joel thanks whatever high power has led him to the back of the store again with his body slumped on his chair and you straddling his lap.

“mister miller.” you moan as you sink down his cock, taking him inch by inch until you're fuller than ever.

his calloused hands wrap around your plush thighs and fondle the skin greedily, loving how it spills between his fingers. whatever you're not proud of, joel touches it like it's a treasure.

“I’m a man, not a boy.” he growls when you hesitate to move on him, afraid of crushing him beneath your weight. “fuck yourself on my cock, baby. come on.” one of his hands slaps your ass possessively and his words alone are good enough to give you the confidence that you lack.

once you start moving, it's over for him.

his thighs flex beneath your weight and his cock twitches within you as you ride him, taking him in so perfect.

“so good. my sweet girl. my favourite girl.” he whispers against your cheek and you melt while swaying your hips faster.

his hands clutch harder at your thighs as you bounce on his cock, buzzing with heat and need for more.

the sound of skin slapping, as well as the wet noises that emit with each slide of joel’s hardened cock inside your folds makes everything better. “so wet. you're coating my cock with it, sugar.” he says through gritted teeth as his fingers dig harder into the skin of your ass.

he slaps it once, then twice.

“mister miller!” you cry out when a particularly hard thrust is delivered straight into your sweet spot.

joel buries his face into your neck and grunts as your walls tighten around his cock, claiming his every inch. “so sensitive. bet your boyfriend didn't know how to fuck like this.” and he's probably right by the way your pussy drools and squeezes around him, sucking him in for more.

his lips find your neck and he marks it unapologetically, biting and sucking on whatever skin his mouth can reach.

when he pulls away and presses his back against the creaking chair he's graced by a sight better than any other.

joel watches you ride him, stares as your tits bounce before his face and your crooked glasses struggle to exist because of the force of his thrusts below you.

he definitely can't last long after that and he uses his strength to shove you on the table and tower over you. only then does he realize the pathetic state of your sundress, butchered up around your waist like it's a belt. he slides his cock inside you again and you whimper softly.

“knew you were made for me ever since you walked through that door.” joel growls while fondling your breasts with both hands, his mouth merely occupied with the tender skin on them.

your hands reach for him, gripping the back of his shirt as he fucks you. you're not used to being given things, only to give them yourself. and this much pleasure is overwhelming but it's good because it's joel giving it.

a particular shift of his hips helps him to slide deeper and the sensation causes you both to moan in unison.

“I won’t last, sweet girl.” he croaks between the space of your breasts while sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

you can say the same as the stimulation brings you closer to the edge and your eyes can barely stay open at some point.

his hips follow a fast and intrusive pace, and every time joel’s hips collide against the back of your thighs it makes your skin jiggle. you feel embarrassed but not for long as joel drags his lips against yours.

“the prettiest girl. there's nothing better than you, sweetheart.” joel whispers and you kiss him before he does.

your mouths melt so perfectly, your noses brushing intimately, and if joel could bring you any closer he would.

“there.” you beg against his lips when the tip of his cock hits that perfect spot within you.

“here?” he asks teasingly and makes his thrusts purposely rougher. your legs shake around him and he does it again. and again. and again.

the bookshop is filled with your cries and begging. “i’m coming— I can't—” you mumble incoherently but joel gets it as he speeds it up.

you watch his hand disappear between your bodies and you don't question it until you feel that excellent brush of fingers against your clit, accompanied by his savage thrusts into your weeping pussy.

“joel.” his informal name falls off your lips so well and he has to remind himself to breath when you say it as you come around his cock with a cry.

it takes everything in him to not spill everything within you right there.

“where? where, baby?” he asks as he grounds his hips and hopes you'll get it.

“I'm on the pill.” you so graciously tell him while squeezing your thighs around his waist and joel nearly says thank you because of what a desperate bastard he is.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to let go and come inside you, his hands abandoning your breasts to pull you down by your hips.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every drop pour into you and fill you up. it briefly shocks you that he's still coming — he's still filling you up with his seed and groaning against you.

“there’s so much.” you mutter breathlessly as he nuzzles his face against yours. joel simply hums and uses one of his hands to caress the bare side of your hip, keeping you relaxed.

“we’re not opening tomorrow.” he tells you in his usual tone of authority.

“it’s thursday.” you tell him.

“good day to go out and eat,yeah?” joel pulls back enough to look at you and he stares at you knowingly. his words bring a smile to your lips, one that he wants to treasure forever.

you nod then, giving him your acceptance.

“yeah. it is a good day to eat out.” his hand moves from your hip to fix your crooked glasses with a fond expression. the glint in his eyes speaks louder than any sentence.

“maybe you should keep your calendar empty for this month. or year.” his words amuse you but you're aware that it's far from a joke — he isn't asking. your eyes regard him as gently as always and you smile that way just for him. “yes mister miller.”

he was glad to have hired you.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 254

So. Danny might have accidentally become a bit of a cryptid. He didn’t mean to, but he’d become a bit nocturnal- like many an Amity Parker- and it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be bothered to make sound when he was tired. Or pretend to breathe or, okay, he could see why he kept freaking people out at the grocery store he kept going to. 

But it wasn’t his fault! He has to get food too! And really is it anyone else’s business? Seriously he thought that people wouldn’t be so surprised with how much magic is everywhere. Like you’d think they’d never seen someone who wasn’t fully human before or something. 

Oh great, there’s a journalist at the grocery store now- he’s going to ignore that and finish his shopping and then continue his online work. Ooh, and eat icecream. He deserves it for potentially putting up with this. 

Oh, it’s a little baby reporter, first couple of article thing. Adorable. 

[sturniqlo]

hii can u do smth about dad!matt obsessing over baby clothes in the store like u found out u were pregnant and he’s at the store the next day 😭 or js at any point in ur pregnancy and he sees baby aisle full of clothes and toys he cant contain himself

Tiny Shopping- M.S

summary: five times when matt was overly excited to shop for his baby.

cw: slight cursing, FLUFF

an: thank you anon for the idea! | lowercase intended

masterlist | mia masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

ONE

"babe?" matt enters his home he shares with his girlfriend. "in the kitchen." she speaks loud enough so he can hear her. "look what i got at the store." matt enters the kitchen excitedly, holding something behind his back. yesterday y/n had gave him the best news ever, they were expecting a baby.

"what'd you get?" she puts the down half eaten bagel. "well, me, nick and chris went to the store, and i saw this so i bought it." matt places the plastic bag on the counter in front of her bagel. "open it, go ahead." he pushes the bag closer to her. "okay." she says, grabbing the bag and pulls out a eeyore plushie.

"matt! it's so cute, oh my gosh." she holds it up. "i know it might the a bit early since we just found out. but, i just had to." he rounds the island and hugs her from behind. "it's never to early, babe." she turns her head and kisses him. "i love it, we can put it inside of the crib once we get one."

TWO

"how's this shirt- matt?" y/n had picked up a shirt for an even they had to go to in a couple of weeks, however when she turned around matt was nowhere to be found. "matt?" she walks around the women's section. as she steps out to the main aisle, she sees matt's curls across the women's section in the baby clothing.

"babe, i was looking for you." she smiles when she sees matt's arm is full of baby clothes. "sorry, i just saw this tiny dress and got carried away." he nods down to the pile in his arm. "a dress? we don't know what the baby is yet." she says. "i know, i know. but, i have a feeling it's a girl, plus, look at it. so so tiny." he holds it up. "oh, we definitely need to buy it." y/n nods.

"as much as i want to buy all of these. we need to bring it down a bit. we have eight more months to buy them more clothes." they had gotten a bit carried away and ended up almost filling a cart up with baby clothes. "you're right." matt bites the inside of his cheek deciding what items to put back.

THREE

"oh matt! look at this one!" nick coos holding up a fluffy bear onesie. "put it in the cart." matt rolls it over to nick. "matt," chris comes up next to matt holding up some bibs. "look at these, they all have 'my first holidays'." matt grabs the bibs and flips through them. "y/n bought these the other day but in onesie form. let's get the matching bibs." he drops them into the cart.

"we're back!" chris announces. "hey guys, what'd you guys end up getti-" y/n stops herself mid sentence when she sees each of them holding two bags from carters. "wait- before you say anything, just look at what we bought." matt says.

FOUR

both matt and y/n were laying on the couch watching harry potter, mostly matt because y/n was on her laptop scrolling through baby websites adding items into her online shopping cart. "this is cute." she says to herself, pressing the add to cart button, "can i see?" matt lifts his head up from her thighs. "it's a pair of shoes, what do you think?" she flips the screen so he can see.

"adorable. did you add them?" she nods. "you read my mind." he leans up and pecks her lips. matt goes back to watching the movie and y/n keeps on scrolling. "oh my gosh, baby look at this one." she gasps, and turns the laptop to him.

"oh, i bought that one yesterday."

FIVE

"alright, do you like this one?" matt holds up a sweater and shows the baby on his hip. the small girl only sticks her tongue out of habit. "you're right, looks like it'd be too hot." he puts it back on the rack. "let's look over here. hey, look, how about this hat." he grabs it off of the shelf and puts it on her tiny head. "awe, look at you." he coos.

"let's go look for your mommy." he heads to the cleaning supply aisle where he knows she'd be at. "baby, look at mia. we need to buy it." y/n grabs a new sponge and turns her head at matt's voice. "oh, look at my baby. you look so cute, mia." she gasps and walks over to the smiling baby on matt's hip. mia giggles at her moms coos. "i'm guessing you like it?"

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[chosok-amo]

THE FUN THING BOUT HAVING TWO BOYFRIENDS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

there's one thing you like the most about having two boyfriends: dressing them up looking like twins and you often do that to your two boyfriends

[☆] MASTERLIST

dating the two most powerful sorcerers in the world was never part of your plan. yet, here you were, navigating the complexities of being in a relationship with both gojo satoru and geto suguru. It all started during your second year at tokyo jujutsu high. you, a skilled jujutsu sorcerer with a penchant for manipulating objects, find yourself increasingly drawn to the two enigmatic seniors. satoru, with his silver hair and azure eyes, exuded a playful confidence that was both intoxicating and infuriating. suguru, on the other hand, possessed a calm, commanding presence that grounded you in ways you never thought possible.

what began as a close friendship quickly blossomed into something more, something deeper. the three of you were inseparable, bound by the unspoken understanding that came with sharing the burdens and responsibilities of the jujutsu world. late-night training sessions turned into stolen kisses, and mission debriefs became quiet moments of connection. before you knew it, you were in a relationship with both of them, an arrangement that was as unconventional as it was exhilarating.

the one thing you enjoyed the most about this unique relationship? dressing them up to look like twins.

your love for fashion was no secret. you adored experimenting with different styles and looks, and having two handsome boyfriends was like having your own personal runway show. satoru and suguru, for all their differences, shared a similar physique, making it easy to dress them in coordinating outfits. they indulged your whims, sometimes with a smirk, other times with a playful roll of the eyes, but always with a willingness that made your heart swell.

you remember the first time you suggested the idea. It was a lazy sunday afternoon, and the three of you were lounging in satoru's expansive living room. suguru laying at the end of the couch with a book in hand and glasses covered his eyes, while you and satoru at the other end with you sitting between satoru's leg while he watches some movies. his large pale arm wrapped around your waist as he give your neck and shoulder a kisses from time to time.

you had been flipping through a fashion magazine, occasionally showing them outfits you thought would look good on them. satoru darted his eyes from the tv to look at the magazines at your hands. he smiles when he sees the man's clothes catalog. satoru, ever the joker, suggested you dress them up, “don't you think it would be cute for you to dress us up like a twins, baby?” he asks as he kisses your cheeks before pulling you closer. his eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a genuine curiosity in his gaze. suguru, more reserved but no less intrigued, nodded in agreement.

“you think?” you ask, looking up.

he shrugged, “i don't mind, I think it's cute, don't you suguru?” he nudges suguru feet that tangled with his and yours with his feet. suguru looks up from his book.

“why not?” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. he looks at you smiling from his book, getting up for a moment to give your lips a quick kiss. “could be fun.”

from that day on, it became a tradition. whenever you had the chance, you'd scour boutiques and online stores for matching outfits, relishing the challenge of finding pieces that complemented both of them. casual streetwear, elegant suits, even traditional kimonos—no style was off-limits. each time they donned the twin outfits, you felt a surge of pride and joy, knowing that they did it for you, that they trusted you enough to share in this playful part of your relationship.

one sunny morning, you decided it was time for another twin-themed day. you had found the perfect outfits: sleek black turtlenecks, tailored grey slacks, and matching leather jackets. the simplicity of the ensemble highlighted their natural charisma and physical allure. as you laid out the clothes on the bed, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

satoru was the first to emerge from the shower, a towel draped loosely around his hips. his hair, usually gravity-defying, was damp and plastered to his forehead. he grinned when he saw the clothes, blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “looks sharp, baby,” he commented, reaching for the turtleneck.

“I like it.” he put his hand to your back to give you a kiss when the other hand held the clothes. suguru appeared shortly after, freshly showered and toweling off his long, dark hair. he gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening as he took in the outfits.

“you have good taste,” he said, pulling on the slacks. he held your cheeks to kiss you for a second and ended it with a kiss on your forehead. you smiling ear to ear, feeling content with how your boyfriends reacted.

as they dressed, you watched, heart swelling with affection. there was something undeniably charming about seeing them in matching clothes, their distinct personalities shining through despite the coordinated outfits. satoru, with his playful energy, made the ensemble look effortlessly cool, while suguru's quiet strength gave it a touch of elegance.

“well, well, well, it looks like a model needs to find a new job, I mean.. look at my boyfriends,“ you said, once they were fully dressed. “you both look perfect, oh my boyfriends, always so handsome me,” you take a step closer to gives them kiss on the cheeks.

they struck a pose, mirroring each other with exaggerated seriousness, and you burst out laughing. It was moments like these that made all the chaos and danger of your lives as jujutsu sorcerers worth it.

after an enjoyable morning of playing dress-up, you and your boyfriends, decided to visit a newly opened café in Shibuya. as soon as the three of you entered, heads turned and whispers followed, drawn to the striking presence of satoru and suguru in their matching outfits.

at the counter, the cashier, a young woman with a flirtatious demeanor, couldn't hide her interest as satoru confidently approached to place the order. he flashed her a charming smile, his charisma undeniable as he ordered for the three of you.

“three lattes, please,“ Satoru said, his voice smooth and warm. “and a couple of your best pastries. do you want anything more, baby?” he asked you, his hand gently resting on yours in a tender gesture. you smiled, feeling the affectionate touch. “that sounds perfect, toru.”

meanwhile, suguru stood beside you, casually placing his hand on your waist as he made his own selection from the menu. the cashier's initial interest wavered as she realized suguru was also your boyfriend, her demeanor shifting slightly. as you waited for your order, you settled into a cozy corner booth with satoru and suguru. the atmosphere was vibrant and welcoming, the café buzzing with conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

“you two certainly know how to attract attention,” you teased lightly, leaning against satoru's shoulder as suguru sat beside you. suguru chuckled softly, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “blame it on satoru's charm and your irresistible company, baby.” satoru grinned playfully, his arm wrapping around you. “can't help it if we make a good-looking trio, right?” the waitress soon arrived with your lattes and pastries, setting them down with a polite smile.

as the waitress hurried off after taking your order, satoru and suguru exchanged amused glances with you, their eyes twinkling with shared amusement. It was clear that the cashier had taken a shine to them, but they seemed unfazed, content in each other's company. suguru chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“looks like we've got an admirer.”

satoru flashed a playful grin, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. “can you blame her? we do make quite the impression.” you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at their playful confidence. “you two are shameless.” suguru raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. “oh, come on. You know you love being with the most sought-after guys in the room.” satoru leaned closer, his voice low and playful.

“and we're all yours, sweetheart.”

you rolled your eyes affectionately, enjoying the banter. “lucky me, huh? I'll have to fend off all the admirers.” suguru chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “we'll just have to remind them who you belong to.

“Indeed. It's like being with celebrities.”

satoru's voice dripped with playful cockiness as he leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. suguru and you exchanged amused glances, unable to suppress your smiles at satoru's confident charm. “well, you know, it's a burden being this charming.” you rolled your eyes affectionately, enjoying their banter. “oh, I'm sure it's so tough.” suguru chuckled softly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“well, aren't we lucky,” suguru replied with a hint of dry humor, his tone light and teasing. you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “ I guess I'll have to get used to the paparazzi following us around.” satoru laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “hey, it's not easy being this famous. but someone's got to handle the attention.”

suguru shook his head in disbelief, “so humble, satoru.”

“suguru, my man, it's not easy being this charming,“ satoru quipped with a playful grin, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his latte. the corner of suguru's mouth quirked up in a faint smile, amused by satoru's jest.

“you've got a gift, satoru,” you chimed in, unable to hide your own smile at their banter. “but let's not forget who keeps you grounded.” suguru nodded in agreement, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Indeed. you're the heart and soul of this operation.” satoru chuckled, raising his latte in a mock salute.

“to our humble leader.”

the three of you clinked imaginary glasses, laughter bubbling up as you shared another moment of playful camaraderie. In that cozy corner booth of the café, surrounded by the comforting buzz of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, you felt an immense gratitude for the love and joy shared between you.

as the day unfolded, filled with more laughter, shared stories, and quiet moments of closeness, you knew that these simple yet profound moments with satoru and suguru were the ones that truly defined your happiness together.

as the day wore on, you found yourself reflecting on how far the three of you had come. there had been challenges, of course—moments of jealousy, misunderstandings, and the ever-present danger of your work as jujutsu sorcerers. but through it all, you had built a bond that was unbreakable, grounded in trust, love, and mutual respect.

dressing them up as twins was a small but significant part of that bond. It was a way for you to express your love, to show them how much they meant to you. and in return, they indulged you, embracing the playful ritual with a willingness that spoke volumes about their feelings for you.

that evening, as you returned home, the three of you settled into the living room, the day's adventures leaving you pleasantly tired. satoru stretched out on the couch, his head resting in your lap, while suguru sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders.

“today was fun,” satoru said, his voice drowsy. “we should do it more often.” suguru nodded, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. “agreed. It's important to make time for each other.” you smiled, your heart swelling with love for these two incredible men. “absolutely. And next time, I have the perfect outfits in mind.”

they groaned in unison, but their smiles betrayed their true feelings. dressing them up like twins was a small part of your relationship, but it brought you immense joy. and as long as you had satoru and suguru by your side, you knew that life would always be an adventure.

[visionsofcarnality]

can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵

i like the way you think…

Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!

Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.

Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.

Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.

Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.

But when he takes Viagra-

You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.

I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.

Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.

You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.

When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.

Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?

Speaking of groceries…

If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.

He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.

Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.

“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.

Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”

Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.

Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.

Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.

Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.

That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.

This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.

Like, I cannot stress that enough.

If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.

His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.

Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.

But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.

You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.

But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.

When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.

this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!

[i-care-4u]

QUIT | J. FÉLIX

PAIR: JOÃO FÉLIX X FEM!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you loved joão the way he loved his past lover. from the first time dating joão, you couldn’t help but to feel lucky that you’re in a relationship with the rising star. however, it wasn’t the same case with joão. in simple terms, you were just his rebound.

during the course of your relationship, joão would think about his past relationship with his ex. everything reminded him of her where even doing the simplest tasks like going to the grocery store was a sign that he just misses her presence.

your friends noticed the body language between you and joão. while you were being too attached to him by resting your head on his shoulder, he wouldn’t lay an eye on you. rather, he would think about his ex, and a memory involving a moment like this.

you remembered the conversation you had the next day with your friend.

your friend, clara, argued, “y/n baby, that man didn’t even laid an eye on you.”

you were feeding into your delusions, believing that joão loves you, “maybe he’s just tired, okay?”

“tired? he was very much outgoing when i saw him with his friends while you were asleep on the couch,” clara sighed, “y/n, i don’t care about his status, but you can do better.”

“i can’t.”

you were well aware of the people’s opinion of you. when the internet found out that you and joão were dating, people began comparing you to his ex, where you were considered the “better” girlfriend. of course, you didn’t liked being compared to his ex, who had a history of cheating. joão had been cheated on a couple of times, therefore making you feel bad for him.

“what do you mean you can’t?”

you repeated, “i can’t let him go like that.”

clara looks at you, “y/n, isn’t it obvious? joão hasn’t moved on.”

that sentence was engraved in your head for the next month and forward.

there was a thing that people say: your first love is unforgettable.

-

as predicted, you and joão broke up the following month. around this time was when his ex came back to the city.

you had a hard time ignoring the interactions between joão and his ex. you were upset that he came back to her after what she did, but you were so defensive of joão, who will experience heartbreak once more.

everyday, you come on instagram to check up on joão to see what he’s up to. in recent events, he was seen hanging out with his now girlfriend at a nearby restaurant. that girlfriend being the same one that cheated on him months prior.

“he’s with her again?” your friend, isabel, looked at the picture of joão and the girl. you knew who she was talking about instantly.

“yeah…” your voice softened, sensing insecurity.

isabel puts her phone on the coffee table.

you sighed, “i just don’t get why he came back to her after everything she did. i just want to see him happy.”

“i know you want to see him thrive again, and it’s not your fault that he went back to his old ways. there’s going to be someone else that’ll truly love you.”

isabel was right, and you knew that. however, you were constantly reminded about the things you and joão did during the course of your relationship.

as days turned into months, you couldn’t help but to continue to view how joão was doing online. he seems perfectly fine, according to his posts on instagram. the more you scrolled down, the more you realized that you could’ve been there. spanish grand prix? that was your idea. miami, florida? that was originally a trip you planned with him.

you couldn’t help but to tear up. as you set your phone down, you thought about everything that is going on in your life. you keep agreeing with your friends telling you to move on, but the process was hard for you.

-

you flew to barcelona with clara and isabel, where you three were going to stay for a week.

the third day, you three attended the fc barcelona game. you were a fan since childhood, and you were overjoyed at the fact that you’re finally seeing your team live.

“i can’t wait to see pedri play,” isabel looked at the field where all the players are standing.

some big names showed up on the lineup. lewandowski, pedri, de jong, gavi, but one of them stood out to you. as you paid close attention to the player’s face, you felt disbelief. the number 14 jersey belonged to someone that you used to know. that face looked familiar, as it belonged to joão félix. joão, the one who dreamed about playing for fc barcelona. and it was the same joão who had left you for his cheating ex.

“oh…” you didn’t know what to say. rather than saying something about joão to your friends, you instead kept it to yourself.

however, joão is an important part of your love life. of course, your friends brought it up.

“félix is playing for barça now?” clara asked you and isabel.

you avoided clara’s question and remained focused on the field. meanwhile, isabel nods, “yeah.”

they both turn to face you. as you see their eyes staring at you, you chose to ignore them.

isabel pats your shoulder, “hey, i know joão is in the same place right now and if you want, we can leave the stadium and go explore other parts of the city, no?”

focusing on the game, you didn’t want to exit the game. it didn’t even hit half time yet. “no, i’m good where i’m at. i don’t want to waste any of our money because of him.”

-

after the game, everyone including the three of you, started exiting the stadium. as you were on your way out of the seats, a pair of eyes looked at you. you ignored what was going on in the background and ignored that joão was playing for your childhood team for now.

on the field, joão was ready to end the night. he was giving hand shakes to the opposing team, and entered the locker room before leaving the stadium for today.

in the locker room, joão couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve possibly been you in that audience.

“you’ve been quiet today joão. what’s up?” ferran sat down next to him.

“i saw her. she was with her friends just now.”

“joão, you need to leave her, she’s no good for you. are you aware on how many times she has cheated on you?”

“it’s not about her. it’s another girl.” joão sighed.

“please don’t tell me. y/n?”

joão nodded silently, his thoughts racing. maybe ferran was right: he needed to move on from his past, the cycle of grief and longing. however, facing reality proved more difficult than he had anticipated. ferran placed a hand on joão's shoulder, conveying concern. "joão, you should let go. you can't keep clutching onto something that isn't meant to be. i’ve seen the body language between you two, and turns out, it’s not meant to be.”

-

listening to ferran's words, joão rather ignored him. instead, he decides to navigate the crowds of barcelona. glancing around, he noticed a familiar woman standing in the crowd, her presence both comfortable and alarming. it was you.

time appeared to stand still as their gazes locked, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering feelings. joão experienced contradictory emotions, including longing, remorse, and hope for the future. joão approached you with confidence and a fast heartbeat. "y/n," he said softly, his voice full of apprehension. you were surprised and concerned. "joão," you replied softly.

you and joão were struck by the shared history and feelings while standing in the city center. It was as if time had folded in on itself, forcing you guys to confront memories from their past. joão interpreted your eyes as a reflection of his own sadness and longing. he wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between you and him, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to beg for forgiveness.

you were also suffering with your own inner turmoil, torn between the sorrow of the past and the light of hope in your heart. you hoped joão had changed and was ready to go forward, but feared disappointment. joão broke the silence with a mumbled plea. "y/n, i understand i made mistakes, but i want to make things right. i want to show you that i've changed and that i'm no longer the same person i was before."

as joão's comments hung in the air, you felt a knot in your gut, hanging down like a heavy load from your shared history. you wanted to believe him, trusting his good intentions, but you knew some wounds were too deep to repair. your voice was trembling with emotion. "joão, i've seen you repeatedly go back to her, not once, but three times, and i won't accept it. i cannot be seen with someone who has not been healed from their past relationship."

your statements broke joão and revealed the brutal reality of their situation. he wanted to protest and beg you to give him another chance, but he knew it would only exacerbate his impending sorrow. joão bowed deeply, burdened by his wordless regret. he realized he had lost you not only now, but possibly forever.

“as much as i love you, all i can tell you is good luck finding someone.”

as you turned away, your footsteps echoing in the deserted streets, joão was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the bitter taste of regret and haunting echoes of what may have happened.