#flat fuck friday monday

[drawfee-quot3s]

when u can't even say .. my name ....

[gayarograce]

imagine like. flat fuck friday. but it's alberta route 21

[widevibratobitch]

im so utterly burned out its not even funny christ

[yea-baiyi]

all of hua cheng's ass meat went into his tits but then he got top surgery and now he's flatter than the topography of a pancake </3

YOU. you get it.

[actionbastard94]

I’ve never known a Friday the 13th to be as maliciously malevolent as Monday the 13th has been. That bitch came out swinging like it was trying to throw hands with Mike Tyson, but I’m no Mike Tyson.

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

Flat fuck monday (I made cookies)

[captain-dad]

And today on Flat Fuck Friday we present 🐟

[cacoetheswriting]

Request!!

Eddie walking in on reader fantasizing abt him<3 and ine thing leads to another they are fucking and then confessing each others love. Smut to fluff basically

If not that’s cool!<3

pairing: roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 3k

content warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, modern day au, friends/roommates to lovers, smut, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, dirty talk, sexual fantasies, masturbation (f), mutual pining, fingering, allusions to sex

Eddie Munson works shifts.

His schedule is scribbled in black marker and terrible handwriting on the calendar stuck to the fridge of your shared apartment — although, it’s not like you needed to double check when your curly-haired roommate was and wasn’t going to be home, embarrassingly enough, you pretty much had it memorised.

In your defence, it’s not overly hard to remember. 

While your hours are standard, Monday to Friday, nine to five, Eddie works at a nightclub in the city centre — The Black Door. He starts late in the afternoon, so as you come home, he’s rushing out the door with a sandwich between his teeth while he throws on his raggedy denim jacket.

“Have a good night, doll face,” he usually says when you pass each other in the hallway. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

You roll your eyes and usually reply with something you think is witty, if you’re not completely enamored by the way his locks bounce and fall perfectly around his face.

“Try not to burn the place down, Munson. You still owe me half of the rent for this month.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says with a grin, “Cross my heart.” He mimics his words and winks, before disappearing down the stairs.

When you close the apartment door behind you with a gentle kick, you have to lean against the frame and take a breath to compose yourself because the feelings you’ve recently developed for your metal-head roommate were too much, too complicated. You needed to try and keep them buried deep.

So, like every other night alone, you do the only thing you can think of to distract yourself and whip out your phone. After some doom scrolling and texting Steve for advice — since he’s the one who gave up his room in the flat, recommending Eddie move in — you open the apps. 

Swipe left, swipe right, left, right, left, left, right. It’s not hard for you to get matches, it’s even easier to get messages which lead to many dates. The odd dinner here, the odd drink there. You like to suggest The Black Door because even though you’re doing this to get over their head bartender, there’s a certain thrill in having him watch you flirt with other guys.

Unfortunately tonight’s date — Tobie with an ie not a y, as specified in his bio — texts to reschedule just as you finish applying some blush pink lipstick. 

Tobie: Hamster died

Tobie: (typing)

Tobie: Next time?

You groan in frustration. Nevertheless, you reply to keep the possibility of a next time open.

You: Sorry to hear about your hamster. Next time, for sure.

Then you type out a quick message to Steve, letting him know he doesn’t need to stalk your location since your date just cancelled. 

Steve: Good. He looked like a douche anyway.

Ignoring Harrington’s comment, you lock the screen then move to the couch where you finish the glass of wine you had poured to drink while getting ready. The alcohol is bitter on your tongue and after you swallow, it makes you feel even more lonesome than moments prior.

Spending your evenings alone wasn’t the worst by any means. You liked to think of yourself as an independent woman and there certainly were other ways you could continue to distract yourself — ways that didn’t involve a man. 

A movie perhaps. Some new Netflix releases to binge watch. Catching up on a favourite podcast. Back to doom scrolling for a minute. Or… You glance at the time on your phone. 7:16pm. Eddie wasn’t due back from his shift anytime soon.

Without giving it a second thought, you lay your head down on the throw cushions and close your eyes. You then proceed to slide a hand down your clothed stomach and you don’t stop, even when you reach the waist of your skirt.

Warmth immediately spreads through you. Even more when you hear a certain sultry voice in your mind, ordering you around. “Come on, doll face.”, or “Show me how much you want me.”.

Well fuck. So much for not thinking about your roommate.

He’s there, behind your eyes. Standing at the edge of the sofa, watching you touch yourself. And he’s doing the same. Fingers wrapped tight around his erect member, rubbing intently while he tells you to keep going and what a dirty, filthy, thing you are.

Cloud nine. Or ten. Who the hell cares. 

You’re lost in your own nasty thoughts, lost in the fantasy, completely oblivious to the sound of metal sliding in the keyhole and the click of the lock. Oblivious to the creak of an opening door and teeter of feet. Oblivious to the fact that there was someone now watching you with their mouth agape.

You’re about to reach that complete high. The mountain top. But then someone clears their throat. No, not just someone. Your roommate, Eddie — and not in your dreams.

Eyes snapping open, your heart drops. You remove your hand from its current position instantly, then slide on the sofa into a seated position, horrified and way too embarrassed to meet his struck gaze.

“Sorry, I-I,” Eddie stumbles and if you had enough courage to look at him, you’d notice he was beet red. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, no,” you protest and stand quickly, “I’ll ehh, I’ll go and yeah, sorry you had to see that.”

You continue to avoid his brown-eyes as you rush to your room, locking the door behind you for good measure. Then, since you’ve already lost all self respect and probably also his respect, you slam face first into your bed and scream into your pillow.

What you don’t see is Eddie who grimaces as the shrieks reach his ears. 

He honestly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but it seems if he told you that now, you wouldn’t believe him. He just felt pervy standing there without your knowledge. And would it make it worse if he said he didn’t mind what he saw? That it was actually really fucking hot? Probably, yeah. He should definitely keep his mouth shut.

But Eddie can’t. Not when it comes to you.

Instead, he drops his backpack to the floor and strides toward your bedroom door. One big breath later, he knocks once, twice. No answer.

“Doll face, can you come out and talk to me? Please?”

“Go away, Munson. You’re never seeing my face again.”

He sighs. “Come on, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” Eddie tries to reason. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t really see all that much. I-I shut my eyes the second I realised what was going on.” It’s a lie, but it’s a white lie. No harm in a white lie.

There’s shuffling inside and the door flies open.

“What are you even doing home so early?” Deflection. Great tactic.

Eddie leans against the frame, stretching his right arm across to pick at painted splinters. “Got into an argument with some weirdo. Bossman sent me home.”

The metal-head must sense your sudden concern because before you can say anything or ask any questions, he says, “And don’t you worry your pretty face about that rent money. I still have a job to go back to ‘cause my actions were in complete self-defence. I was just told to go home and cool off, or whatever.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What did you fight about?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie brushes it off and shrugs after dropping his arm back to his side. “What are you doing here by the way? I thought you had a hot date.”

“Dead hamster,” you say without further explanation, then quickly wonder, “How did you know about my date though?”

“Harrington.”

“Of course.”

There’s a minute of silence. Not awkward, despite everything that’s happened. Quite comfortable actually because that’s how things always are between the two of you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eddie asks, another attempt at trying to stir the conversation even further away from what transpired mere minutes ago. “In my room, if you’d prefer that.”

Tried and failed since you glance at the couch and tense all over again. 

There is no way you’re going to sit with him in the same exact spot you just tried to get yourself off to fabricated thoughts of him, all while he walked in on you. You’re probably never going to sit there again, ever.

“We might actually need to invest in a new sofa,” you say, full of shame, and glance up at the curly haired boy.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Would it help if I dropped my pants and—”

“Eddie! Gross!” You screech and smack his chest. “No, it would most definitely not help.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Relax, doll face. I was  kidding.” The grin on his face spreads. “At least we know you weren’t thinking about me earlier, judging by that reaction to my very kind offer.”

There must now be a grimace on your face, some sort of physical reaction that you didn’t manage to contain as Eddie’s joke settles in the air around you, because a beat passes and your curly-haired roommate's gaze goes wide. His lips part and something flashes in his brown eyes that you can’t quite deduce, but one thing’s for sure, he knows.

“Oh. Oh.”

Without saying anything else, plausible deniability and all that, you try to shut the bedroom door in his face. Eddie however, has fast reflexes and his foot is now blocking you from doing so. But you keep trying and you lean against the wood, shoving it with your back.

“Now you can really go away, Munson.”

“It’s not—”

“If you utter the words it’s not that big of a deal, I will jump out of my window.”

On the other side of the door, Eddie laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, doll face. No one needs to be jumping out of anything, okay?”

You sigh, looking up at your ceiling as if it held all of the answers.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one having extremely specific dirty thoughts about your roommate.”

Silence. 

Oddly, now it felt slightly uncomfortable. You sense it immediately. The shift in the air. It’s a little unnerving. Okay. A lot unnerving. Which is why, again without really thinking about what you were doing, you stand straight and open the bedroom door to reveal your roommate’s back. He’s staring at the empty wall, hands on his hips.

“You know,” Eddie starts in a quiet tone and you begin to think the worst, (although you’re about to find out there is really no need). “Before you were my roommate, you were Harrington’s smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl roommate.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following.”

Eddie sighs. He spins back to look at you, hands still on his hips.

“Jesus. Okay. Uhm… You’re not the only one with, what is it you said, extremely specific dirty thoughts.” 

You raise your brows in surprise. This is not the turn of events you were expecting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

And then, for reasons not completely clear in that moment, you laugh. Loud and clear. Velvety. It’s music to Eddie’s ears, so he smiles, watching you. You. Still that smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl he had a schoolboy crush on. Even more beautiful when you laughed. And all those nights he’d invite himself over, back when you still shared the flat with Steve, and he’d talk nonstop about this girl he liked but didn’t know how to ask out (you), well, all those nights finally felt worth something because now he knew you liked him too.

Eddie’s shoulders relax and he drops his arms from his hips, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You notice immediately, eyes glued to where his points are digging into the flesh of his mouth, and the laugh freezes in your throat. The realisation of what Eddie just admitted dawns on you fully. He’s gotten off on fantasies of you long before you ever saw him that way. You don't, however, get to ask him what any of it means, or where you two go from here, because Eddie makes the decision for you.

He reaches for you. One hand on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His eyes race over your face, as if he’s taking every little detail in since you’ve never stood this close together. You’re admiring his features too. Memorising each crinkle and line. Each mark and freckle. He’s attractive, for sure, but this close and personal, Eddie Munson is the most alluring guy you’ve ever seen.

“I think I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers, brushing a thumb over your lips. “Unless you’re still thinking of jumping out the window.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and between your legs. Your gazes latch onto one another and you tip up your chin, inviting him to stay true to his words.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He takes your mouth, causing your knees to buckle beneath you, but the hand he’s got on your waist holds you up in place as his lips interlock with yours. The sweetness of the kiss surprises you. It’s pleasant and you find yourself hoping he’ll kiss you this way again, and again. And when the tips of his fingers trail against your cheek, when they travel to the back of your head, settling in place and pushing you in closer, you part your lips and moan softly into his mouth.

He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in and intertwines it with yours. The hand holding your waist falls slowly, lingering against your body like a shadow as he drops it lower and lower. When he reaches the hem of your denim skirt, he freezes there momentarily.

“I don’t want to overstep, doll face.” Eddie murmurs against your plush lips.

“Please…” You all but whine in response.

“Please what?”

His hazel eyes go dark. Hungry. It sends a shiver down your spine, knowing that he wants you just as much as you want him, if not more.

“Overstep, please.” You slide your nose alongside his, nudging him slightly as you say, “Eddie, t-touch me. I’d like you to touch me.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Swiftly, he pops the button and slides the zipper, letting the garment fall to the ground so that you’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment with your skirt around your ankles, exposing the black lace of your underwear to your roommate.

Eddie kisses you again. It’s rougher this time, more needy. And while his lips work against yours in perfect harmony, his fingers slide in between your thighs. 

Slowly, Eddie traces your wet heat, teasing with just one finger. Your body is jolting with anticipation. Your skin is soft and warm, writhing under his delicate touch. He can feel tension building as your legs start to tremble and he smirks into your mouth, clearly pleased with himself because he’s barely even touched you. 

Gently, he presses the pad of his index to your entrance, carefully slipping inside as you whimper. He continues pushing in slowly, knuckle by knuckle and you melt around his intrusion. Your arms now pressing your bodies together with all the strength you can muster.

Lewd, wet sounds drift up from between your legs as Eddie begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. Rough. Hungry. He breaks the kiss, crazed eyes looking back to admire your face as you slowly start to come undone. Then you gasp: he curls a finger inside your pussy to mash his palm into your clit, massaging the spot relentlessly.

A moan grows in your throat and your lips part, desperate to let it out. Eddie has another idea though. His free hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the sound. It causes your eyes to widen in shock, but surprisingly to both of you, you lean into it and after a few moments of this treatment, your walls close around his fingers.

You arch your back and Eddie struggles briefly to keep his hand over your mouth. He thinks for a second that maybe he’s being too forceful, forehead to forehead, pushing into you further. Somehow his force only makes you react harder and in a matter of seconds, you deflate, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum all over his digits.

Eddie drops his hand from your mouth, grinning. He removes his other hand from between your thighs and you miss him desperately already, though you don’t immediately say because you don’t want to come off as such. He licks his fingers clean then leans down to peck you on the lips as your orgasm haze clears. You can taste yourself on him and it drives you crazy all over again, but when you try to deepen the kiss, your metal-head roommate places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says simply. 

“Right now?” You pout and manoeuvre your hand in between your bodies to reach for his hard member through his work slacks. “‘Cause I wanna repay the favour.”

Eddie grins then places his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together. He pulls it out and brings it to his cheek, brushing it softly against his light stubble.

“I am loving the enthusiasm, doll face.” Eddie begins, “But I’d like to try and do this thing right, which means dinner before I further corrupt you, okay?”

“Maybe I’m the one corrupting you.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile, “Either way, the faster we get out of here to grab some food, the faster we can come back and maybe even put that couch to good use.”

You laugh at that.

“So will you stop being stubborn and let me take you to dinner?”

When you nod your head, Eddie’s smile grows even wider. He drops your hand, but only momentarily, to lift your skirt and button it for you. He smooths the material, then once again, he reaches for your hand to lead you out of the shared apartment.

Eddie Munson works shifts.

Only, from now on, whenever he comes home late at night, instead of going to sleep in his room, he stumbles into yours, more than invited.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[ghouljams]

Hi! I love your work. It always make my day better after a long day from work

I saw the Valentine’s asking with the 141 boys, and I also have another idea.

Like imagine a inexperienced!Reader that never had a Valentine’s Day, no lowers, no boyfriend nothing. Then she gets really excited for it since she and Ghost started dating, but then Ghost forgets.

Imagine the angst and Ghost’s reaction when he realizes he messed up.

*gritting my teeth* talk to your partners for the love of God

Neither of you having any experience with dating means flying blind and hoping Simon will catch but but so often he just... doesn't. You expect him to anticipate your needs, to think of the same things you do, to care about the same things, and he just doesn't. You're quietly excited for Valentine's day, coasting on the stories of others whose partners went all out, hoping silently for a bouquet and chocolates, but unwilling to spoil the surprise for yourself by asking. You watch videos of people dressing up, videos of decorating their partner's house, videos of heart shaped jewelry and lovey-dovey couples.

You're giddy when the 14th rolls around. Simon comes over right at 6 for your usual friday night routine, and you though you're disappointed not to see roses when you open the door, you tamp down your disappointment by rationalizing he must have something else planned. And he just... doesn't. You lay in bed next to him and listen to him snore as you stare at the ceiling. Nothing. You got nothing.

You get nothing the next day.

Or the next.

It's Monday when you get a text from Simon asking if Friday was Valentine's and you laugh bitterly to yourself that he either didn't know or didn't care enough to remember. You ignore him the rest of the day, and it's only when he knocks on your door after work that you find the strength to glare at him.

"You didn't say anything." He reasons out as soon as he's in your flat.

"You should've known." You spit back.

"Why the fuck would I know if ya didn't say anythin'?" He growls back.

"You didn't see all the hearts all over the place and-"

"Because I'm off base so often." He cuts in, rolling his eyes.

"I-" You stumble on your argument, before holding strong, "I wanted a Valentine's day."

"Then you should've said something, I'm not a fuckin' mind reader." Simon crosses his arms over his chest, and tips his head to look down on you. Something you've seen him do to recruits on the few occasions you've been able to see him at work.

"You should've known." He raises a brow, "You could've gotten me flowers, at least! Everyone does something for Valentine's day."

"Didn't do anything for me." Simon sniffs. Again you stumble on your argument. He takes your silence as a chance to deliver another devastating blow, "Guess we're both bad at this."

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[crushpunky]

joe and college!reader argue

masterlist

based on this ask. warning mentions of sex

Y/n had been having a shitty week to put it lightly. It started on Monday when she spilled the entirety of her coffee down her outfit just before she had to give a presentation, then continued on Tuesday when her car got a flat tire. Wednesday, she stayed up all night trying to grind out a Calculus assignment before the test Thursday morning… which she nearly missed because her alarm didn’t go off. However, she made it through. She made it through because, in the back of her mind, she just kept thinking about her and Joe’s Friday night ritual: their pajamas and movie night.

Every week, the two of them would get together, dress up in their comfiest pajamas, and watch a movie. They’d alternate between Joe’s apartment and y/n’s dorm, whomever the host was getting to pick the movie. Neither of them particularly being big party animals, they chose Friday because it would allow them a trust excuse when their friends would try and drag them out to some rowdy club.

This week being hers, y/n stood from her desk with a sigh, finally freeing herself from her homework for the rest of the night. She did up her bed, perfectly fluffing up the pillows and laying out Joe’s favorite (and freshly washed) blanket. As the time for Joe to come over got closer, y/n popped popcorn and slipped into her new pajama set that’d finally come in the mail. It was a satin pink ensemble with lacy trim along the neckline of the tanktop and hem of her coordinating, ruffled shorts.

About thirty minutes before 7:00, aka the time their movie night officially would (hopefully) begin with Joe’s arrival and the approximate delivery of the pizza she’d ordered, y/n’s phone buzzed with a text from Joe.

hey, got held up at the fields, but ill be there asap. love you.

Y/n sighed, annoyed but not surprised. It wasn’t unusual for Joe to send a text saying he’d be a few minutes late, him often spending hours on the practice fields and naturally losing track of time. But that's what it usually was: a few minutes late.

So, when the clock hit 7:00, then 7:30, then 8:00, y/n found herself beginning to cry as she sat on her twin XL mattress, the pizza that had arrived already growing cold in the stale air of her dorm room. Taking a bite of a chewy, cheesy slice, y/n wiped her under eyes with a sniffle. Her week had been shit, Joe knew that, and she had been looking forward to this for the whole time. Just a night to relax and unwind in Joe’s arms, to leave all the other stressors behind. Yet here she was, alone.

Suddenly, a loud knock came from her door. Y/n barely flinched, already sunk deep into the bed as she watched some shitty Netflix show.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Joe’s voice was heard from the other side of the door.

Y/n looked at the door hesitantly, gnawing at her bottom lip. He was over an hour late. An hour. And it wasn’t like this was some last minute thing or something out of the ordinary, this was every damn week, and he hadn’t even bothered to call or text to let her know he was going to be that late.

“Y/n, please,” Joe sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Ja’Marr wanted to run drills a– and then Coach came and I my fucking phone died so I didn’t know the time and—”

The door to y/n’s dorm swung open, the light from the hallway illuminating her disheveled form. Her hair was tangled, the pristine pink of her new pajamas dotted with grease and crumbs from the pizza, and her eyes a mess of smeared and longgone mascara.

“Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry—” Joe said, immediately stepping through the doorway and into her dorm. His hands reached for her waist as he dropped down to look her in the eyes. However, she stepped just out of his reach, avoiding his eyeline as she closed the door behind him before silently turning back to her bed. She climbed back into her spot, turning the TV back on.

“Y/n, please, I—” Joe pleaded, his eyes earnest as he stood in front of her, blocking her view of the TV. She moved her neck to look around him, but he stepped to block her once more.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, just please talk to me—” Joe said.

“It’s fine, Joe.” Y/n snapped, her eyes finally meeting his. He could see the stress of the week in her teary eyes, making his heart break over the fact he’d played a part in it.

“It’s not fine.” Joe said sternly, grabbing the controller from her and pausing the TV. “You’ve had such a shitty week and I’m really sorry.”

“You’re right. I did have a really, really shitty week, Joe,” Y/n said with a sniffle, “and the one thing I wanted was to have this night with you and just…”

Y/n’s bottom lip trembled as she let out a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as a tear rolled down her cheek. Joe knelt down in front of her, his eyes peering up at her intently.

“I’m really, really sorry, baby.” Joe said lowly, his hand trailing along the skin of her thigh. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open again, watching as he pressed a light kiss to her knee.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.” Joe whispered, his lips brushing her thigh gently. Y/n felt her cheeks warm as she watched him, but she quickly tore herself away once she remembered how they’d gotten here in the first place.

“No, Joe.” Y/n said, moving her leg from him with a groan. Joe looked up at him, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“You can’t just… sex your way out of this. We need to talk. This is… important and something I’ve been needing to talk to you about for a while.” Y/n sighed. Joe stood up, joining y/n on the bed. His long legs dangled off the side as he leaned forward, a concerned look on his face as y/n peered back at him.

“Look, I get it. Football is always gonna be your first love but… Joe, sometimes it feels like I don’t even cross your mind.” Y/n said, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her and avoiding Joe’s gaze as she spoke. Joe stiffened, his brows shooting upwards.

“What?!” Joe said incredulously, y/n’s eyes finally moving to meet his. “Baby, what do you mean?”

“It’s just,” y/n sighed. “I just feel like it’s always just about… you and football and the season and the team and it’s never about, well, us.”

“You know this season has been so important for us— the team— but that doesn’t mean I just forget about you when football comes around.” Joe said, his hand reaching out hesitantly for y/n’s. She took it, running her fingertips along his calloused hands.

“Joe, it’s not just tonight it’s all the time.” Y/n said. “You’re watching game film when we’re eating dinner or going over plays while we’re getting coffee or… showing up late for our dates because you were practicing. Look, I get it that it takes time but… sometimes I just feel like I’m not a priority for you anymore.”

“Baby, of course you’re a fucking priority for me,” Joe said, squeezing y/n’s hand. “This is just… a really important time for me and I have to be performing at the top of my game…”

Y/n took in a deep breath, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she looked back at Joe.

“... but that doesn’t mean I should be sacrificing us.” Joe said, nodding lightly. “I… I’m sorry— for making you feel like I forgot about you and for not really being there for you.”

A small smile drew across y/n’s lips, a similar one spreading across Joe’s face.

“Thank you, Joey.” Y/n said, pressing a light kiss to Joe’s temple.

“Don’t thank me for something I should’ve been doing before.” Joe said with a slight chuckle. “You deserve to feel like a priority because you fucking are.”

“I love you.” Y/n whispered, running a hand through Joe’s hair as he looked back at her with a gentle, loving gaze.

“I love you too.” Joe said. “Now let’s watch a movie.”

[im-just-daria]

In The Dark

The Jackal x Reader

Fandom: The Day of the Jackal

Word Count: 2.107

Summary: Who knew your degree would make you a perfect acquaintance for an assassin?

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and suicide, threatening, breaking into a house, the usual stuff you would expect from a series about an assassin.

A/N: Hi guys <3, my first fanfiction ever. The lack of writings on this man is very concerning. English is not my first language and there was no beta. Let me know if there are any mistakes or if something isn't tagged properly! Same with warnings missing- please let me know :)

''For fuck's sake'' you mumbled under your breath as you walked down the street. The rain was pouring down as you tried to get to your flat as soon as possible. Working in a local pub in London wasn't the worst until you had to get home on Friday at 1 am after the shift. You finally reached the bus stop and sat down on a little bench, very grateful for the little roof covering the seats. Today was just not your day; for starters, you got an email from your landlord about the rent getting increased soon. Secondly, you got rejected from another job you applied to and on top of all that, one of your coworkers took your umbrella from the staff room. You sighed and shivered as you tried your best not to cry. Your mascara was already ruined due to rain, and your hair was a complete mess, making you look as miserable as you felt.

You stood up as you saw your bus approach, giving a little wave to the driver, waiting for him to stop the vehicle. You smiled at the man behind the wheel, tapped your card against the reader and took your place at the end of the bus. With your headphones in, you looked around the bus and found the exact type of people you would expect to see on a night bus at 1 am on Friday in London. Two heavily intoxicated girls eating McDonald's, making a mess everywhere, some drug addict talking to himself in a corner, a woman crying and recording a voice message and a couple making out on the seats adjacent to yours. 15 minutes later, you left the bus and made your way towards the flat. You lived on the 3rd floor; it was a simple one-bedroom apartment. You unlocked the door and almost ran inside. Leaning your back against the door, you let a few tears run down your cheeks. You quickly removed your jacket and hung it on a wardrobe door to let it dry, taking off your shoes as well. You followed down the hallway to the living room, and as soon as you reached the room, about to switch on the light, you heard a deep and calm voice coming from your armchair.

"Don't turn on the light," you gasped, and your head snapped towards the man. You could barely see his outline; his legs were crossed, and both arms rested against the chair. You could see him staring at you, yet he was not moving at all. Your eyes fell to his right hand, and you inhaled sharply as you saw a gun.

''It is loaded, and the safety is off'' he paused, and you could see him barely tilting his head to the left. ''You won't have time to run, and if you scream, I will put a bullet through your head before you even open your mouth. Your next shift is on Sunday, so my guess is that no one would see your body until Monday morning.'' Your body just froze. You had no idea who this man was or how he knew your work schedule, but most importantly, you had no idea what he could want from you. You felt dizzy and lightheaded, so you managed to stutter out ''O-okay.'' You leaned on the wall behind you, staring at the man before you, waiting for him to do or say something. It felt like ages before he finally spoke up again.

''You graduated from the 'hair, make-up and prosthetics' course at the London University of Arts with a first-class degree; now, at 23, two years after graduating, you still work in a pub after being rejected from theatres and studios. On top of that, you won't be able to pay rent from May, and your best friend is ghosting you again for her boyfriend'' He paused again. ''Oh, and you are starting to get black mould in the bathroom, which your landlord completely ignores.''

You looked away and inhaled deeply. 'This is just fantastic,' you thought to yourself. You have a psychopath in your flat who clearly hacked your whole phone, and God knows what else, listing down all the failures and problems. You knew it was a hard industry to get into when you started university, but you always thought skills would get you to a starting point, at least. You never suspected it to be nearly impossible- every position on film sets and theatres was just filled with people hired because of their friendships or parents. Now, you worked full-time in a pub, and with inflation, you started to struggle with rent even though you were doing almost 40 hours a week. Your best friend stopped reading your messages a few days ago because she got back with her ex, who absolutely hated your guts (all you did was point out to her every time he cheated on her, forgot their dates, and ignored her anytime he was drinking with his mates). So you probably don't have a best friend anymore. You could call your mom, but she would probably turn this situation into blaming you, and your dad left you when you were younger.

All the stress from your life and no one to talk to is starting to rush down. Your job doesn't care about you, nor does your landlord or friends, apparently. And you have probably a murderer in your living room right now. Your vision starts to get blurry with tears again as your breath quickens. You look at the man across the room as he observes you. You just feel so tired and hopeless. A whisper comes out of you, and you hope he didn't hear it- you regret saying it as soon as the words leave your mouth.

"Just shoot me and take what you want." You always thought the phrase 'the silence was so loud' was exaggerated. It wasn't; all you could hear and feel was the silence. The man kept looking at you, observing; you felt almost judged but immediately scolded yourself, ''Why the fuck would I care that a psychopath with a gun who broke into my flat thinks I am pathetic?'' Too many dark romance books- you tried to explain to yourself. Reading about kidnapping and murder is your bedtime read, so of course, you normalised feeling bad about yourself in the presence of someone who can literally end your life. You patiently waited for his reply.

''Excuse me?'' He asked stoically, without any movement. You started to get impatient; it was almost 2 am now, and all you wanted was to get to bed; if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it a long time ago. If he wanted to sexually assault you, he would attack you already, and if he wanted to rob you, he would do it if you weren't home. You sighed and looked at the man ''Just tell me what you want; you clearly made a lot of effort to hack my phone and read through my messages, emails and work rotas. You broke in here with a gun, yet all you did so far is summarise my life and threaten me.'' You said all that in one breath; you crossed your arms as you continued. ''Tell me what you want, oka-''

''I need you to make a prosthetic for me.'' He raised his voice as he interrupted me. You stared at him in disbelief. ''THAT'S IT?!'' You could somehow see the surprise on his face despite the dark room as you nearly shouted. You hid your face in your hands and let out a laugh, all the stress involuntarily leaving your body as you kept laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Your first contract after your degree will be to a criminal, that is, if he pays at all or doesn't shoot you after the job. ''I will pay you twenty thousand pounds.'' You went silent within a second. ''It should be enough downpayment for you to buy a property in England, especially since you already have 6,247 pounds saved,'' the man said calmly as he uncrossed his legs and straightened in the armchair. "You also hacked into my banking app?" you asked in disbelief as you started questioning the security systems of my phone and the bank itself. "Believe it or not, but using a variation of the same password everywhere possible isn't the smartest idea,(Y/N)." He said lightly as if he was making a joke. You chuckled, "Fair point, okay, I am in. What kind of prosthetic do you need?" The man took out a folder from the inside of his jacket. He slid across the floor towards your figure. You picked it up, and before fully standing up, he added, ''Go see the pictures in a bathroom, and don't even think about taking the nail scissors from the top drawer of your cabinet; I already took them.'' ''Creep,'' you muttered as you walked down the hall towards the bathroom. ''I heard that,'' the man replied from the living room. You could have sworn you heard him saying that through a smile.

You turned on the light and entered the room. It was a simple black folder with no labels or markings. You slowly opened it and saw 4 pictures inside. It looked like security pictures people would take when starting to work for bigger companies. The man in the pictures looked like he was in his middle sixties; the first picture looked like an identity card, just a simple portrait. The second one was from a side clearly taken by the same company, and finally, the last two were taken from a top and a back. However, they were taken from a street, almost as if the man was being followed by the photographer. ''No doubt who'' you thought. It is a rather complicated prosthetic with all the wrinkles and freckles, but it was doable, expensive but doable.

You closed the folder, left the bathroom and turned off the light behind you. As you expected, the man in the living room hasn't moved. ''I can do it; it will take about 10 days and maybe 5 grand for all the materials.'' ''I need it by Sunday next week; I will pay for all the materials and resources,'' he replied.'' I also need to know what materials to use to apply it.'' You looked at him sceptically as you leaned against the wall on your left side and crossed your arms. ''Have you ever put on a prosthetic? Especially a full-face prosthetic? Because there is absolutely no way you can manage to put it all on by yourself. Especially if you will have people around who know that man in the picture.'' You tried to explain to him, but it was hard to assume what he was thinking without seeing his face. You could only imagine his face remained emotionless. 'Oh, to have the confidence of white men, ' you thought. ''What do you propose then? How long do you think it would take me to learn?'' ''It took me 2 months to learn simple prosthetics and about 9 to do full faces with wigs. So there is no way you can learn it in a week.'' He sighed and leaned his head on his hand, clearly thinking about the next steps. Suddenly you've just realised what you agreed to, for all you know you can help him murder someone! 'No, no, you are just making a prosthetic, just make-up, you are just selling make-up' you tried to explain to yourself. You did very well with gaslighting yourself until he spoke up.

''Fine, you will put the prosthetic on me then. I will leave the folder and five thousand pounds here for the materials and flight tickets. I will let you know later which flights to buy.'' He stood up from the chair; you could see through his clothes that he was tall and lean. All the lights in the apartment were turned off, and he approached you. He stood directly before you, and it was almost possible to make out his features from a close distance. You unknowingly stopped breathing as he spoke up.

''If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you and your mother.'' He took a small folded piece of paper and handed it to you, as his eyes never left yours. ''Let me know if you need anything,'' he said, walking down the hallway. As he opened the front door, you asked quickly ''Wait, where are we flying?''

''Munich.'' He left without looking back.

[justagalwhowrites]

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed. 

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night. 

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you. 

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife. 

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door. 

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?” 

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it. 

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.” 

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…” 

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back. 

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…” 

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department. 

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground. 

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair. 

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go. 

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?” 

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him. 

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch. 

“Please what?” 

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.” 

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it. 

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now. 

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.” 

That, Joel had thought, he could give you. 

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it. 

Today was one of those days. 

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours. 

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming. 

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked. 

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly. 

“Where are you now?” 

“Green.” 

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.” 

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat. 

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

*** 

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did. 

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess. 

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?” 

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…” 

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself. 

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.” 

“You,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir.” 

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether. 

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?” 

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Think she likes it.” 

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles. 

“She like this too?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern. 

“But…” 

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.” 

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks. 

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else. 

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one. 

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.” 

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low. 

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.” 

“But…” 

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch. 

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan. 

“But I want…” 

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face. 

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue. 

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did. 

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.” 

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open. 

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?” 

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!” 

“Please what?” 

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it. 

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” 

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit. 

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again. 

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still. 

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…” 

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you. 

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…” 

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled. 

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…” 

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still. 

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.” 

“Yellow,” you managed. 

 He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.” 

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones. 

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.” 

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you. 

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.” 

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve. 

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.” 

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you. 

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips. 

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?” 

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy. 

“I’m good,” you smiled a little. 

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?” 

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before. 

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?” 

You just nodded, still smiling. 

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…” 

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, that OK?” 

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry. 

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…” 

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up. 

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…” 

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming. 

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed. 

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?” 

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.” 

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Some angst for your morning <3 Love a little fight scene.

wc: 700 (ish)

"You're trying to distract me."

You hummed and shook your head, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

It was very obvious that you were, in fact, trying to distract Spencer from his work. But you couldn't help yourself!

He had been ordered to take the weekend off, Hotch crediting 'burnout' as his reasoning. Spencer did not take likely to this, since it made him feel as though he was slipping, he wasn't good enough for the team.

You, however, were thrilled by the fact that Spencer was forced to take a long weekend.

"Yes. You are."

"Well maybe if you actually took the time off like you were suposed to instead of ignoring me all fucking weekend then we wouldn't have to make me feel like shit for asking for attention from you for one minute." You muttered under your breath, chucking the pillow down where you had been sitting, moving towards the kitchen and away from the living room.

What Spencer had failed to consider was just how happy you were to have him home for a weekend. He failed to recognize the assurance that came with him telling you his definitive whereabouts for three days. He failed to notice the tension leave your shoulders, the smile that edged it way onto your face. Spencer was too busy internalizing what Hotch had said about working to much to realize, that you were hoping to spend this time with him.

Not just sitting in the same room as him as he barely slept and did the exact opposite of what Hotch told him to do.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Came your voice from the other room, causing Spencer to frown, because he knew what you said, and he knew that you knew what he said---he could start to see the burnout when he realized how quickly he would spiral in his thoughts.

"Shit."

Placing the book down on the coffee table, he followed where you had gone to, stopping in the door frame.

"What do you want Spencer." Tone flat.

"I-I...You were hoping for more time together this weekend."

You snorted and turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "Someone is finally back on their profiling game I see."

This caused Spencer's cheek to tinge red. He had failed to notice the basic signs of you being upset--Hotch was right. He did need time off.

"I'm sorry."

"That would mean more if it wasn't Monday night and you didn't have work tomorrow."

Spencer dragged a hand down his face. "I don't want to fight."

"I do." You said simply, looking at him expectantly. You were pissed, rightfully so. And up until now, you hadn't said anything. Admittedly, you should have said something to Spencer earlier. However, you were sure that Spencer wouldn't have actually given you his time or focus if you did.

"I--" He just looked at you. "I really don't know what to say to that."

"That's fine. You don't need to say anything. Maybe you should work on your listening skills instead."

"That's not--"

"Fair? I don't know, I think it is. Hotch told you to take the long weekend off to give your brain a break. And did you listen to him? No. I told you about plans I was hoping we would make for this weekend on Friday, that I know you didn't remember. And this whole weekend, you never actually listened to me, barely processing anything I said."

You took a breath, trying to calm yourself down in the moment, but not diminishing your thoughts, because you were right. And Spencer knew it to.

"What can I do to make it up to you."

You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head. "I really don't know Spence. I don't know." You brushed past him, headed towards the bedroom. It's not to say that you lost your fighting spirit, it's just that you were so severely let down by the man you loved that you didn't really know what to say anymore.

Spencer was unsure as to what to do. So he just stood there, watching as you walked away, not moving to stop you. Only flinching when the door to your shared bedroom slammed, and he was still on the other side of it.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: abalone

This is a Wet Beast Wednesday post, but it would also be applicable for Mollusk Monday and maybe even Flat Fuck Friday. Today I'll be introducing you to the abalone. The squat snails have some strange features that set them apart from their fellows in the shell squad. Unfortunately, over harvesting of abalone for their meat and shells have put many abalone species in danger.

(Image: an abalone attached to a rock. It is a snail with a large, broad, and flat brown shell. A muscular foot attaches the animal to the rock. Around the body is a membrane covered in tentacles that reach out around the body. End ID)

Abalone are marine snails of the genus Haliotis (not to be confused with halitosis) that can range in shell diameter from 20 mm (0.8 in) to 300 mm (12 in). The number of species is a matter of some debate. There's a lot of variation in morphology within species which led to many species being incorrectly classified as multiple species. The most accepted number appears to be 56 species and 18 subspecies. Abalone shells are highly flattened and the spiral can be hard to see, making them look like large limpets. They have no operculum and cannot withdraw into their shells like other snails can. Instead, when threatened they suction as hard as possible to an object. The shells have holes in them on one side which are used for respiration, waste disposal, and release of gametes. As abalone grow, the number of holes will change with some being filled in and new ones forming. The interior of the shell is covered in nacre. This substance, also called mother-of-pearl is valuable for its polished, iridescent appearance. Abalone use the nacre to make claw-shaped pearls. The shell is composed of microscopic bricks of calcium carbonate glued together by a protein structure. When pressure is applied to the structure, the bricks slide against each other and the protein glue stretches. This helps absorb the energy of blows and makes the shells very resistant to cracking. The shell structure of abalone has been studied to make sturdier body armor and ceramics.

(Image: an empty and polished abalone shell, seen from below. The shell is lined with shiny and iridescent nacre. The nacre color varies with species, but in this case is blue-green. A line of holes are on one side of the shell. End ID)

The majority of the shell's interior is filled with the muscular foot, which the abalone uses for locomotion. The foot is attached to the shell in the center. Around the edge of the foot is a structure called the epipodium. This is a frilled membrane lined with sensory tentacles. When an abalone is relaxed, it will extend the tentacles to examine its surrounding. When threatened, the tentacles retract for safety. Along the edge of the shell is the mantle, which produced the material for the shell. Abalone will grow larger throughout their lives, with the mantle continuously making new shell. At the front is the head, which has sensory tentacles and a mouth that contains a pair of oral tentacles use for finding food and the radula. The radula is a tongue-like structure lines with sharp teeth. The teeth scrape algae off of rocks and into the mouth. The teeth are arranged in rows that move forward like a conveyor belt, allowing worn out teeth to fall out and be replaced by fresh ones. The head is near the newest-formed hole and the anus is next to the rearmost hole.

(Image: an abalone seen from below, with the foor removed and anatomy labeled. The organs circle around a central muscle that the foot attaches to. A small head is in the front while the epipodium rings the body. Source. End ID)

(Image: an abalone's radula, removed and next to a pencil for scale. It is a long, thin structure lined with rows of tiny teeth. The front end is stained brown with algae. End ID)

Abalone live on coasts worldwide, with the exception of the North American Atlantic coast, South American Pacific Coast, and the poles. Most species live in cold water, but tropical species are known. They spend their times feeding on algae. Abalone shells are usually covered with life, including algae and sessile animals like tunicates, sponges, and tube worms. The hitchhikers combined with the upper shell's dull appearances serves as effective camouflage. During mating season, males and females release gametes into the water. The number of eggs a female can produce increases with size and can be up to 11 million per season. The larvae start out in a swimming form before metamorphosing into non-swimming juveniles called spat. Abalone reach sexual maturity young and at a small size.

(Iamge: dozens of abalone spat in a tank. They are miniature versions of the adults, but have nacre on the outside of the shell as well, giving them a shiny turquoise color. End ID)

Abalone have been hunted by huamns for millennia, with the oldest evidence of use being a 100,000 year old "workshop" found in Blombos Cave, South Africa, where abalone shells were used as storage for ochre mixtures. Throughout their native ranges, abalone have been harvested for their meat, nacre, and pearls. The shells are often used for jewelry, as decorative inlay, and, in some cultures, as currency. The foot is edible and considered a delicacy in some cultures and a staple in others. The value of abalone has led to worldwide overfishing, resulting in many species being endangered. Captive farming has become a major industry in many places to meet the abalone demands. Farming began in China and Japan in the 1950s and 60s and the majority of abalone farms are still in east Asia. Because of overfishing, the majority of the world's abalone supply now comes from farms. Sport fishing is legal in many parts of the world, with 25% of the wild harvest coming from Tasmania. Many places require permits and have catch limits, but poaching remains a major industry. Collection of abalone is usually done with a blunt scoop called an abalone iron that can pop the animal off of rocks. It has to be blunt because abalone blood does not clot and any cut will lead to the animal bleeding to death. Overharvesting and increasing ocean acidification are the largest threats to abalone. Places where abalone are reintroduced to the wild have seen increased biodiversity and environmental health.

(Image: a carving made by the Haida people of British Columbia, Canada. It reselbles a face with a tall hat or head with a small body carved on it. Abalone shells are used for inlay,, cut into rectangles with the nacre facing out. End ID)

[punksyeet]

- Sweet Escape ❥

Plot: During tough times within his marriage, Josh turns to Gianna (OC) for comfort - in more ways than one. When she starts to catch feelings, instead of telling him, she slowly but surely distances herself.

Warning: Angst (happy ending) & talks of smut!

I climb off of him and lay flat on my back, breathing heavily thanks to tonight's thrilling events.

As I turn around to face him, he's already gotten up and started getting dressed.

I sit up and run my a hand through my curls before taking a deep breath and breaking the silence.

"Josh?" I call quietly, my voice just above a whisper.

He looks up from zipping his jeans.

As I open my mouth to respond, his phone rings.

He picks it up off my nightstand and sighs, throwing his head back when he sees the contact name: T ❤️

"Hey baby," he greets his wife.

I let out a deep but quiet sigh, and lay back on my pillow.

For context, my co-worker Josh — better known as Jey Uso — and I have been sneaking around and sleeping together for a little over a month now.

He and his wife have been going through some issues, as most couples that are together for 15+ years do, and he's been using me as an escape.

Every Monday and Friday night, after a live Raw or SmackDown taping, he'll come back to my hotel room and we fuck the life out of each other.

It's a great time but, I can't lie, I've been catching some heavy feelings recently.

Which I know kinda defeats the whole purpose of sleeping with a married man, but I can't help it.

And you'd think that confessing my feelings for someone that's going through relationship issues would be easy, but it's the exact opposite.

Usually I try to ignore them but, whenever a sense of bravery comes around, things get in the way.

I know he cares about me, but not nearly enough to separate his marriage so that we can be together.

I just want to be with him.

For him to love me the same way I love him.

To have him all to myself.

"Aight love you too," he says, before hanging up the call and placing his phone back down.

Silence falls over the room for about a minute or two before he speaks up again.

"You were saying?" he asks, pulling his shirt over his head.

I shake my head, looking down and fiddling with my fingers. "Forget it."

"Hey don't be like that," he replies, spraying lots of cologne all over himself to mask my scent on his clothes. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," I exclaim, still looking down.

"Aight," he replies, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Whenever you wanna tell me, I'm here."

I look up and nod, giving him a fake smile.

He leans in to kiss my lips but I turn my head so that it's my cheek instead.

A look of confusion comes over him. "You sure you're good?"

He always kisses me goodbye, and it hurts knowing it means nothing.

But tonight feels different. A different type of hurt.

I nod again, looking back down. "You should get going. Don't want to get caught."

He looks at me for a moment longer before nodding and getting up to leave, then closing the door behind him.

I sigh and lean back on my headboard, looking up at the ceiling.

I bite my lower lip as tears form and a single one rolls down my cheek.

I just wish he was all mine.

—————————————————————————————————

I wake up to the sound of my alarm and immediately stop it, before laying my head back down on the pillow.

Today is media day for the entire WWE / NXT roster.

We have these every few months, just so the media team can stay up to date with posters for matches and PLEs.

The SmackDown roster is scheduled for 12pm this afternoon, and just my luck, Josh will be there.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when my phone chimes.

I look over at my nightstand and my heart drops when I read the text that came through.

Josh 🫶🏽: Morning ma

Josh 🫶🏽: Need a ride to work?

I let out a deep sigh and pick up my phone, slowly open the iMessage app and contemplate what to say.

I don't know if I can be around him. Not after last night anyway.

Gianna (Work): Morning Josh. It's alright I'll take an Uber. Thanks for the offer though.

Josh 🫶🏽: Nonsense baby

Josh 🫶🏽: I'll pick you up around 11:30

Josh 🫶🏽: That sound good?

I chew on my bottom lip before responding.

Gianna (Work): Alright that's fine. Thank you. 🫶🏽

Josh 🫶🏽: Gotchu ❤️❤️

I stare at his reply for a little while — if only the hearts actually meant something.

Shaking my own thoughts out of my head, I get up, stretch, find an outfit, and head to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

I ended up going with a baby blue matching zip up and sweatpants set, my UGG slippers, and a blue purse.

Cute, comfy, and easy to get out of when I need to change into my gear. Perfect.

To finish off the look, I fix my hair into a messy bun and throw on some of my go-to jewelry.

A couple minutes later, I get another text.

Josh 🫶🏽: I'm outside

I take a deep breath, make sure that I have everything, head out, and lock my room behind me.

"Morning babygirl," Josh coos when I enter his SUV, sliding into the passenger seat.

I turn to him and softly smile at the nickname. "Morning, Josh."

He leans over and kisses my cheek.

"You look cute," he compliments, starting up the engine again and pulling away from the curb.

I blush lightly. "Thank you."

He stops at a red light and turns to me, to which I try to avoid his gaze by looking out the window.

"Hey," he says softly, placing a hand on my thigh. "You alright?"

No. You, sir, are playing with my feelings.

"Mhm," I reply quietly. "I'm good."

He studies my body language for a second. "You sure? Cause last night you pulled away from my kiss. And now you can't even look at me."

I look down and fiddle with one of my rings.

He pulls up my chin gently. "What's going on, baby? Talk to me."

I shake my head, doing my very best to hold back tears. "Can we not do this right now?"

A look of confusion comes over his face. "Do what?"

I let out a deep sigh and pull away from his touch, leaning my head back against the headrest. "Forget it."

As if the Gods are helping me out, the streetlight turns green.

He continues driving and, this time, never removes his hand from my thigh.

——————————————————————————————-——

** Josh's POV **

"Earth to uce!" my brother yells, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head quickly and hold out my hand. "Oh hey. What's up, Jon?"

He gives me a look of confusion and leaves me hanging for a second before accepting my handshake. "You alright, bro? You seem....distracted."

"All good man," I lie, running a hand down my face and smoothing out my beard. "Just tired that's all."

But that couldn't be more untrue.

I've been thinking a lot — a lot about Gianna that is.

We've been fucking on the low for a good month now and, while we both agreed to just mess around for fun and as a distraction for me, she's been acting weird lately.

And the only thing I can think of is that she's backing out.

As in, she doesn't wanna do this anymore.

I just can't seem to figure out why.

Last night was perfect.

Jon shakes his head. "I've known you my entire life, uce. I know when something's eating at you."

I take a deep breath and rub my temples.

"Come on bro," he continues. "Maybe I can help? You know I care about you, dawg."

"Aight man," I reply, finally giving in. "Let's go talk somewhere else. I don't need any nosy bodies in this company listening."

He snickers and nods in agreement, before we both walk off.

"So what's this all about?" Jon asks, sitting down on one of the sofas in our and Roman's locker room.

I take a deep breath and sit down, resting my arms on my knees.

"So," I begin. "You know how me and T have been going through it lately."

He nods. "Yeah, of course. Did something happen?"

I bite my bottom lip gently and think for a minute. "Sort of...?"

He tilts his head and gives me a confused look. "Stop beating around the bush, uce. Just say it."

I look down and fiddle with my fingers. "I've been sleeping with Gianna as a distraction."

He narrows his eyes and thinks for a minute before responding. "Gianna? Gianna Nicole? Trin's friend?"

I nod. "Yeah, uce. She agreed to keep it on the low a month or so ago and we've been sneaking around since."

He places his head in his hands and runs them down his face. "Josh, what the fuck?"

"And I think she wants to stop," I continue, fixing my chain. "She's been acting mad weird since last night."

"And you don't think that's the right thing to do?" he suggests. "Does T even know that you're not willing to work shit out? A real man don't do this shit, uce."

I narrow my eyes at him. "A real man? Whose side are you even on right now?"

He holds up his hands. "You know I'll always be in your corner, uce. But you need to fix this shit. Either break things off with T or stop seeing Gianna. You're fucking with both of their heads."

He's right. I know he is.

I close my eyes and nod slowly.

"And you said Gi has been acting weird," he continues. "Have you ever thought that she's distancing herself from you because this has all become a mental thing?"

I raise an eyebrow. "A mental thing?"

"Uce," he replies, touching his temples. "You're sleeping with the girl damn near every night. Do you not think she's gonna catch feelings for you sooner or later?"

Holy shit. Is that why she's running from me?

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

Jon nods and claps me on the back. "Do what you gotta do, uce."

I watch as he walks out of the locker room and shuts the door behind him.

—————————————————————————————————

** Gianna's POV **

It’s a couple days later and this is the first Friday in nearly two months that I haven't spent with Josh.

Paul didn't need me for any matches, promos, nor segments tonight, so I decided to spend the night at home with some self care.

I just finished a steaming hot everything shower, which felt amazing considering I would've been sweaty in a wrestling ring right now otherwise.

And afterwards, I changed into my favorite robe from Victoria's Secret.

As I'm in the mirror applying my face mask, my phone rings.

I look down at the counter and see the contact name “Josh 🫶🏽” appear on my screen.

Nope. I'm not letting anything, especially drama, ruin tonight for me.

Once the face mask is fully applied, dried, and washed off, I finish up in the bathroom and head downstairs to order some Chinese takeout.

As I'm about to dial the number, my doorbell rings.

I sigh and slide into my bedroom slippers before answering it.

Once the door opens, my jaw practically drops at the sight I'm brought with.

"Special delivery," Josh says, holding a bouquet of colorful tulips in one hand and food from the same Chinese restaurant that I was about to order from in the other.

I give him a look of confusion before he speaks up again.

"Can I come in?" he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

I let out another sigh before stepping aside and closing the door behind him.

Probably not my finest moment, but I am curious to see what he has to say.

"Josh if you're here to try and get me to have se-" he cuts me off before I can finish.

"Aht aht," he stops me, setting the food and flowers down on the kitchen island and turning to me. "I'm not here for allat."

I fold my arms across my chest. "Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

He takes a deep breath before walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

I flinch at his touch but don't pull away.

"Baby," he begins, looking me dead in the eyes. "I ended things with her."

Instead of letting my jaw drop, my lips partially open. "What are you talking about?"

"I did some venting to my brother when we got to the arena on Tuesday," he explains. "He made me realize that I was taking advantage of you. Baby, I never meant to hurt you or get in your head. It took me a while to realize this, but I want you. I want only you. When I'm with you, I'm the happiest. This entire time, I was worried about hurting my ex. When really, I was only hurting you."

I just stand there, an emotionless expression on my face.

I don't know what to say. Or how to say it.

"So," he begins again, turning back to the island and breaking the silence. "I got these for you. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry baby. I hope you can forgive me."

He holds out the bouquet to me.

I take a deep breath before gently taking them from his hands and smelling a flower.

"Thank you," I reply, my voice just above a whisper. "I forgive you."

His eyes widen and a gorgeous smile appears on his face. "You do?"

I bite my bottom lip gently and nod. "You hurt me, Josh. Bad."

He strokes my face. "I know ba-"

"But," I continue, cutting him off. "I want to believe you. I love you more than anything. I have since this entire mess started."

He breathes a sigh of relief and flashes me a soft but gorgeous smile. "I love you too, mama. I just hate that it took me so long to realize it."

I transfer the bouquet to one hand and run my fingers through his curls with the other. "Well, you know what they say. Good things come to those who wait."

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Babe you sound like a fortune cookie."

I drop my jaw as if I'm offended and he chuckles, nuzzling his face into my neck and giving me kisses.

"Speaking of fortune cookies," I exclaim, looking over at the bag of food he brought me. "I'm starving."

"Oh right," he replies and turns around to open the bag. "I almost forgot."

I shake my head and giggle.

As he's setting up the food, I walk into the kitchen and grab a vase from the windowsill, fill it up halfway with water, and put the flowers in.

"You like them?" Josh coos from behind me, his muscular arms wrapped around my waist.

I nod, turning to face him. "I love them. Thank you."

He smiles and leans in, pressing our lips together.

I automatically kiss back and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Look atchu finally kissing me back," he teases and does a goofy dance.

We share a laugh and a few more kisses before heading back over to the island and eating together.

A couple minutes later, he runs to the bathroom and I use the opportunity to text a little someone.

Jon Fatu 🫂: Thank you 🤍

Gianna Nicole: You're welcome lil sis ❤️

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