#i have things to say but i hate leaving in the middle of things so i'll write it when i get back

[dafterdarling]

pretty picture // leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

warnings: reader has lots of tattoos and is a little prickly, fluff

summary: you meet leah through a teammate of hers and fall in love immediately

word count: 1668

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Steph tries to encourage you and you scoff back.

You were currently sprawled out on your sofa watching TV with Steph leaning against the kitchen counter that, with the open concept, can oversee the living room.

It's a Friday and unlike everyone else you don't want to go out, it's actually the last thing on your mind. It's been a long week of non-stop work and all you want to do is rot on your sofa until you have to go back to work on Monday- you're actually very thankful that you don't have to work the weekend as well.

So you'd rather not waste your time in some bar or pub that Steph drags you to- or God forbid spend any time with people other than Steph.

"I don't want to go, Steph- All I want is TV and ice cream,"

You have a pint of chocolate brownie ice cream waiting in the freezer and it's begging to be opened. That was your plan- eat the whole pint while watching a crappy dating show that you had found on Netflix but Steph wanted to ruin all of that.

"Come on, you can have ice cream tomorrow and the TV will be here when we are back,"

You glare at Steph and then she looks at you with those puppy eyes that she knows melt your heart a bit- You bite the inside of your cheek and resist the urge to immediately agree.

You had known Steph for most of your life and the two of you had moved together to England so she knows exactly what works on you.

"How long is this thing?" You sigh.

Steph jumps up excitedly, "You'll be back before midnight, promise,"

Midnight? You try not to comment because you really don't want your age to show but you normally went to sleep before it hit eleven pm.

"Okay... who is coming?"

You secretly pray that she says it's just going to be the two of you but you know not to get your hopes up because the last time you hung out without a small crowd was in Australia- when you were seventeen.

"You'll find out," Steph says cryptically and you don't like the sound of that but it's too late to say no when you've already agreed.

You shake your head and mutter under your breath then turn off the TV before making your way to your room. You open the closet and sigh- because Steph has told you absolutely nothing about where she is dragging you.

"Steph?" You call for her and hear the semi-silent sock footsteps of her heading to you.

You turn to her, "What's the dress code?"

"Wear something hot," She smirks and you roll your eyes.

"I'm being serious,"

Steph chuckles and pushes you aside so she can look in the closet-

"So am I,"

You watch as she gathers some clothes and shoves them in your arms before turning and walking out the door.

You sigh because this is typical Steph behaviour but trust her anyway- you get dressed and look in the mirror. It's not bad, it's just dark washed jeans and a white t-shirt with a track top over it. It makes you think that this place you're going to isn't fancy, which you're thankful for because your bank balance is looking worse for wear after paying the bills this month.

Also because you'd rather not have to wear a turtleneck to cover your tattooed neck in the middle of July- last time you'd stepped foot in a fancy restaurant, they had asked you to leave and you really couldn't be bothered to argue so you did.

You meet Steph by the door to put your shoes on, you choose the least beat up pair out of your small collection- a pair of black boots that somewhat work with the clothes Steph picked out.

You give yourself one last check in the mirror- you would try to hype yourself up but you remember that you hate doing that more than anything. So instead you head out the door without any weird affirmations and Steph follows behind.

You make your way to your car- an old beat up little ford that is half your age and sometimes stalls, you get into the driver's seat and slam the door shut.

"Charming," She comments on a plastic bottle on the car floor.

You roll your eyes, "I've yet to throw it away-"

"No, no it adds to the... charm of it all,"

You laugh and turn the radio down slightly so Steph can give you directions. You eventually make it to a bar that looks like it hasn't been updated since the 80s but you don't comment on it. Instead you lock the car and follow Steph inside, she leads you to a table in the corner where you already can make out Beth- one of Steph's loudest friends.

"Y/N!"

You groan internally but not because you dislike Beth or anything- just because the music is already too loud and it's so hot inside this cramped bar.

"Hi, Beth," You greet her with a polite smile and a hug.

Then you sit in the semi round booth, immediately taking off your jacket because you'd rather not sweat to death. Beth and Steph sit somewhat opposite you and you begin to catch up,

"Any new ones?" Beth points down at your arms.

You smile since this is probably one of the few topics that you can discuss without issue,

"Yeah this one," You hold up both of your hands to show her the flowery design on the back of them.

"And then one on my back."

Beth smiles, "Must have hurt,"

You brush it off, "I've gotten used to it,"

The three of you discuss football, pets and a few other topics before the rest of the group arrive- You recognise Jen and give her a hug, then Alessia whom you've heard of in passing from Beth and a few others.

That's when you see her- Leah as she'd introduced herself and your breath is completely taken away because how can someone look so effortlessly good?

She's wearing a lovely leather jacket over a dress shirt that has the lightest of pinstripes with dark baggy trousers and so many rings- You immediately flush, half embarrassed at your own clothes and half in awe at Leah.

She greets you with a light hug and you think your heart skips a beat when she sits down next to you. You don't think you've ever been so starstruck by anyone and your throat is suddenly far too dry.

"So what do you do for work, Y/N?" Leah asks with a smile.

You can practically feel your face flush, you hope the bar is dark enough that Leah doesn't see it but you seriously doubt that because the pink lights from the dance floor are far too close. You try to play it off casually by leaning on the table and half turning your body towards her but all you can do is internally cringe at yourself.

"I'm a photographer... for an agency,"

You wished it sounded cooler but it was a little late to take it back.

"That's cool, what do you photograph?"

You swear Leah leans into you slightly but maybe it's just you,

"Err... Houses, like for sale."

It's not what you really wanted to do but it pays the bills for now and finding a new job in this economy was beyond difficult.

Leah nods then her attention focuses on your arms and you feel her touch you, making goosebumps flare up on your skin, before suddenly flinching back.

"Sorry- I have no idea why I did that-" She stutters out but you cut her off,

"It's fine, I did that one myself,"

You point at the small black blob looking cat that's surrounded by other tattoos, the rest of them looking much more professional than the self-made one.

You feel Leah's hand run up your forearm again, this time not pulling away instead tracing some of the tattoos. You swallow nervously and you have no clue why because you don't typically get nervous- not with friends.

You look away from Leah for a brief second and meet Steph's eyes, she wiggles her brows at you and you roll your eyes back before focusing on Leah again.

Her eyes meet yours and you swear that you've never looked at someone like you did her- It's weird because you don't believe in love at first sight but now swear it's happening to you.

You breathe out a soft sigh, "You're beautiful-"

"You're gorgeous-"

You laugh because you can't believe this moment, it's as if out of one of those rom coms that you secretly love to watch. Leah looks so pretty and you really want to snap a photo of her.

"Err..."

You clear your throat,

"Can- Can I get your number?"

You think she's going to say no because you're clearly out of her league and she must have a thousand different options lined up but instead She laughs and pulls her phone out,

"'Course you can, darling,"

You spend the rest of the evening talking to Leah whilst running your hands up and down her back or occasionally letting an arm rest over her shoulder. The two of you practically ignore everyone else, as if stuck in your own little world- Until it's time to go because it's way past midnight and Steph is pretty smashed.

You say goodbye to Leah outside the bar with a hug and kiss on the cheek that makes you flush red before walking back to your car with Steph.

The car ride, for the most part, is silent until Steph decides to comment,

"So you and Williamson?" She giggles like a little girl and you scoff but don't reply- letting her have it.

Mostly because yeah- you and Leah Williamson did create quite the pretty picture.

[chiwhorei]

i don't have a specific request in mind js pls bless us with icky big bro caleb and icky daddy sylus content I'm on my kneeeees🧎🏻‍♀️

How about icky big bro Caleb AND icky daddy Sylus together ?? My head is S P I N N I N G tw: incest, pseudo-incest, dubcon (?), manipulative and yandere-ish behavior.

Based on the Tomorrow’s Catch 22 event, Sylus is your guardian and Caleb is still the “childhood friend” (🙄 which to me means blood related big brother OBVIOUSLY) that you grow up with. So let’s say Sylus takes the two of you in when you were kids and raises you both. But of course Sylus has a distinct favorite- you, his precious little bird. (Ꮚ˘ ꈊ ˘ Ꮚ)

And both your brother and adopted father are LETHALLY protective over you. You’ve always been caught in the middle of their affection, feeling the tug from one side to the other like dogs with a rope. Sylus disappears for several years, and in that time Caleb has you all to himself. He knows how much you miss the only father-figure you’ve ever had, but he LOVES being the sole recipient of your attention now. You lean on your big brother heavily, and Caleb takes SUCH good care of you.

So when Sylus decides to show up again, Caleb itches to hide you away in a place only he can find. You start to notice his demeanor shifting, and try to reason Sylus’ sudden reappearance. “Dad’s just trying to make up for lost time, can’t you at least try to get along with him?”

God, Caleb hates when you call that fucker your Dad. He’s not, and he shouldn’t have the pleasure of hearing the name curl around your tongue. You always used to get away with anything, just by flashing Sylus a wide eyed “Please, daddy.”

Sylus can’t say he’s hurt by the tension between himself and his eldest “son”. Caleb’s always been more of an obstacle to him anyway. But now, he’s got the advantage. Caleb lives and works in Skyhaven, leaving his poor little sister in Linkon to fend for herself. It’s only natural for Daddy to suggest you move in with him. And the thought alone has your brother reeling from the thought of you playing house in the N109 Zone.

So now your life is spent like a tennis ball being volleyed from one man to another, spending every weekend Caleb has free up in Skyhaven and every weekday with Sylus. Both men always trying to one up each other, buying you pretty things, taking you on lavish trips, doting in you in every way.

The way Caleb fucks you is often hostile, jealous of all the time he’s sure you’ve spent in “Daddy’s” bed. He makes you scream his name, makes you beg for big brother’s cock, makes you cum around him so many times your poor clit starts feeling numb.

After a weekend at Caleb’s you come home with hickies and bruises everywhere. Sylus shakes his head and tssks you, musing at how much of a cum whore his daughter became. But don’t worry, daddy can’t ever stay mad at you for long, especially when you curl up between his legs so sweetly and beg for forgiveness. You’ll suckle at his cock for hours with tears streaming down your face. You’ll let Sylus fuck your face and take his load on your chin “just like my little cumslut daughter likes”

It’s a vicious cycle, really.

[mafuluzx]

saw the wattpad post and came running

Perhaps a kai fluff? Im thinking specifically when hes first meeting all the ninja, and he clearly isnt the biggest fan of them. Reader can be like.. love at first sight or smth. Idk, i just really love fics that include the introduction 😔

Hehe, nice to hear! So, a Kai fluff? Hmm, yep, definitely doable, and not gonna lie, I liked writing this a bit too much. So I hope I didn't get carried away and just did good!

Kai x male reader oneshot!

Takes place sometime before season 1.

Too Hot to Handle

(y/n) didn't know exactly what he was expecting from the so called 'courageous' ninja team, but this... was not it.

(y/n) was no fighter, but he knew his stuff, and compared to the things Sensei Wu had told him, the reality was much more disappointing

When Wu, an acquaintance of an acquaintance of a friend of (y/n)'s, had come asking (y/n) to take the place of the ninjas' mentor he really thought he'd be in for an exciting first day.

Nope, this really wasn't it. Rather than exciting, it made (y/n) want to run home right now. He was promised a month with a mentally mature group of heroes, this was like kindergarten for ninjas. Well, maybe (y/n) was a bit harsh, but he'd never admit it.

"Everyone, please give me your attention, we have an important guest here today." Wu announced as the ninja, who were concentrated having an arm wrestling contest (Cole had been kicked out for 'cheating') quickly stopped and ran over curiously.

"I'm sure you remember that I have urgent business to go on, right?" The ninja nodded in unison. "Well, this is (y/n), he'll be taking my role for the next thirty days.

The ninja looked fine with the idea, and kept listening as Wu explained the rest of the situation. Right after the explanation, Wu exclaimed "But I'm in hurry, so I'll be heading out. Make sure to listen to (y/n)!"

"Bye Sensei!" The ninja waved and even bowed, facing the gates until a fair ten seconds had passed. Then the team finally relaxed.

(y/n) barely had time to process Wu's swift departure before the ninja’s attention snapped to him. Five pairs of expectant eyes locked onto him. He had been so busy smiling politely and nodding along with Wu's words that he was just now getting to inspect the ninjas.

"So," Jay was the first to speak, clapping his hands together. "What's the plan, Boss?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "You gonna whip us into shape? Make us do, like, a hundred push-ups and call it a day?"

"Yeah, good luck with that," Kai scoffed, crossing his arms. He leaned against the wall, looking (y/n) up and down, his expression unreadable. "I don't know what Sensei was thinking, bringing in some random guy to boss us around for a month."

(y/n) raised a brow at that, locking eyes with the red ninja. (y/n) hated how handsome the red ninja was, even while mocking him right in front of his face.

"Some random guy?" (y/n) echoed, folding his arms in return. "Well, it's nice to meet you too, fire boy."

(y/n) whipped his head away from Kai with a huff just as Cole spoke up.

"Alright, alright," Cole interrupted, stepping between them with a grin. "Let’s not scare off our new babysitter in the first five minutes."

"Ha, as if!" (y/n) let out, stepping away before before pointing at the obstacle course in the middle of the temple yard.

"Come on, no wasting time, do the obstacle course and show me what you can do." (y/n) commanded, leaving no room for argument.

He watched as the four ninja completed the course one by one, then he called them back to him.

"Thank you. Now, let's go over your performance," (y/n) said, stepping in front of Cole with a thoughtful expression.

"You're strong, but you rely on brute force too much. It slows you down and drains your energy faster than necessary. Try focusing on efficiency instead of just power."

Cole blinked at him, clearly not expecting such a direct critique. "Uh… thanks?"

(y/n) turned to Jay without saying anything. "You move fast, which is great, but you don’t think before you act. And, honestly… you talk a lot during the course. It's a distraction, for you and probably everyone around you."

Jay looked offended. "Talking helps me focus!"

"Does it, though?" (y/n) asked, raising a brow before shifting his attention to Zane.

"...Perfect," (y/n) finally said, and both Cole and Jay whipped their heads toward the nindroid in shock.

"Thank you," Zane responded, not showing emotion on his face.

"But I could tell you were moving from memory alone," (y/n) added. "You never looked back, never checked your surroundings. In a real fight, that won't work."

Zane nodded. "That is a fair point."

Finally, (y/n) stopped in front of Kai, but this time didn't look him in the eye. "You did well," he admitted, "But… you were reckless, hasty, arrogant and pompous. You took unnecessary risks and relied on luck more than skill. Your confidence is good, but it could get you in trouble if you don't balance it with caution."

Kai scoffed, crossing his arms. "So what, you want me to overthink everything like Zane?"

"Well, yeah." (y/n) held in a scoff.

"Well overthinking's overrated." Kai meanwhile smirked, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "I'd rather do what my heart tells me."

As he spoke he leaned forward, close to (y/n)'s face. (y/n) definitely burned up, he just hoped Kai didn't see it. Unfortunately it looked like Kai might just have.

"Well," (y/n) said, shoving Kai away by his face, "My heart is telling me you need a lot more training."

He ignored the way his pulse quickened as Kai laughed while grabbing onto his wrist and removing (y/n)'s hand from his face. And when Kai let go, (y/n) felt awfully cold.

"Everyone, freestyle training for the next hour!" (y/n) announced, clapping his hands together.

Jay groaned. "Aw, man, I was hoping for a break!"

"Would your Sensei have given you one?" (y/n) lifted and eyebrow doubtfully.

Jay lifted a finger, but lowered it as he spoke. "...Fair point."

(y/n)'s patience was running out. Kai had been testing him the entire day, clearly enjoying annoying him.

He was the worst kind of person out there. An annoying guy with a pretty face and a dang good body.

Zane was obediently training along to some tips (y/n) had given him, even Cole and Jay looked like they were trying, but Kai wouldn't take a single tip from (y/n).

Since (y/n) wasn't getting paid, so he thought about quitting. But on the other hand, if something happened to the ninja now, Wu wouldn't probably be very happy.

So he just bit back annoyance and kept helping the others instead. Of course he still kept stealing glances at Kai and his stupidly gorgeous face- nope, nope, nope.

But it seemed like the more (y/n) was avoiding giving Kai any attention, the more annoying the red ninja managed to become.

"(y/n)! I'm tired of all this punching, can I take a break?" Kai's voice called from the other side of the yard.

"If you're tired of punching stop using the punching bag! Haa..." (y/n) called back before letting out a sigh.

"Well I thought it was your job to boss us around!" Kai called again as (y/n) turned to face him.

Oh? Now he wants me to boss him around? So be it. (y/n) said, in his head of course.

He walked over to Kai, then pointed to Jay, who was currently doing his best by the weight lifting station.

"Switch with Jay, show me how much strength you have."

Kai laughed, but then his gaze flickered with something more mischievous. "Oh, you want me to practice strength?"

Before (y/n) could process what that meant, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, and suddenly...

"Kai!!" (y/n) basically screeched as his feet left the ground. Kai had lifted him up like he weighed nothing, throwing him over his shoulder effortlessly.

Jay howled with laughter while Cole doubled over, hands on his knees.

"Oh my god- Kai, put him down!" Jay wheezed, barely able to breathe through his laughter. "He's gonna kill you!"

"Oh, I know," Kai said, absolutely unfazed as (y/n) struggled in his grasp. "But he told me to show my strength."

(y/n)'s heart definitely skipped a beat as he became unnecessarily aware of Kai's hands holding onto him. He smacked Kai back as hard as he could while gritting his teeth. "Kai, I swear-!"

"What? You don't like being carried? Thought you could use a new perspective," Kai teased.

"You are going to regret this," (y/n) threatened, but Kai wasn't very convinced.

"Maybe," Kai mused, clearly having way too much fun. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, and before (y/n) could register what was happening, Kai flipped him effortlessly, catching him in a bridal carry instead.

Jay collapsed to the floor, wheezing, while Cole smacked the ground like an audience member at a comedy show. Even Zane had stopped training, but was only staring at his laughing friends with a worried (and confused) look.

(y/n) froze, breath catching as he found himself face to face with Kai, arms looped around his neck by reflex. Meanwhile Kai just grinned, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You know," Kai mused, "I think I kinda like holding you like this."

(y/n) glared up at him, face burning. "Hmph!" He was afraid he'd embarrass himself if he tried to say anything.

Kai chuckled, shifting his grip slightly just to make a point. "Comfy?"

(y/n) almost growled. "Put. Me. Down."

Kai tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "Hmm… Nah."

"Kai- Ah!" Before (y/n) could say anything else, Kai dropped him, not really though, just enough to make him yelp before catching him again at the last second.

Jay completely lost it. "Oh, this is the best day ever! And we get to see stuff like this for a month?! Shut up!"

Cole wiped at his eyes as he called to Kai. "Please, never stop messing with him!"

(y/n) scoffed, hands grabbing tightly onto Kai's gi. "What is it that makes torturing me so fun?"

"It's fun because it's you." Kai grinned down at him. "Oh, I'm so going to have the best thirty days of my life, ever."

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[saudebazi]

everyone prioritizes their family and that means even extended chacha ke chacha fufa ke tau etc and i can't even prioritize my sagi one i hate myself

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

man i gotta go out in the dark and pick up my pizza so i don't starve..... somebody remind me to talk abt solaris. when i get back from picking up my pizza

[blujayonthewing]

desire to roleplay authentically when my character has traits that can come across as difficult or frustrating vs irl intense fear and terror of ever being difficult or frustrating FIGHT

[adelle-ein]

it's embarrassing how long this took to sink in for me but i've finally realized the reason the vast majority of people people are so evil and insane about israel vs palestine is because they fundamentally see neither side as human

[intertexts]

hm.

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[thepandalion]

I fucking HATE creepy crawlies

[readymades2002]

ohhhhhh god i dont wanna go in to work today.........

[solaceseven]

you storm out in the middle of an argument

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking. when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Zero Gravity

Things Justice League knows about Danny Phantom:

He's dead (why, how, and for how long is unclear)

He's generally on the 'good' side (but contingency plans have been set up in case of 'future evil self' resurfacing, by Danny's own suggestion)

He's a figure of authority among other dead/neverborn/otherworldly/eldritch/magical beings (however, it's unclear to what kind of authority he holds and why)

He's dating one of the Bats (unclear to who, but none of them confirmed nor denied the fact, which is a confirmation on its own)

He absolutely hates only three things: toast, circus, and Christmas (neither of them explained)

His powerset is so wide that he can't even fully recount it (unclear if it's because he doesn't remember all his abilities or if he can't keep track of the new ones popping up spontaneously)

He's hot [whoever added this, you're not wrong, but I'm watching you - O.]

He has a grudge against Flash (unclear to why, but Flash seems to know the reason and won't budge regardless)

Of course, there are many more things to know about Danny Phantom, but they are mostly suspicions, rumors, and speculations. Like how sometimes the boy seems distracted and bored as if he is only going through a pre-written script; a sign of repeatedly going through the same day a few times too many, as the other time-travellers say. Or like how sometimes he knows too much - the boy is an expert in Kryptonian biology, to Clark's great surprise, and is more knowledgeable about Olympus politics than Diana herself.

There are also little things that are hard to notice and even harder to ignore once you do. How he never talks about family but likes listening to others talk about it. How he pointedly stays away from the medbay and any kind of medical staff. How he stops every time he passes one of the giant windows on the main floor of the Watchtower, smiling dreamily at the sight of vast, open space beyond it.

And then, there's The Thing that no one addresses.

When Danny Phantom doesn't pay attention, he unknowingly nullifies gravity.

The first time it happened, Bruce thought the Watchtower's artificial gravity collapsed. However, he very quickly realized that it was a local occurrence - only a few rooms and a hallway were affected - and, right in the center of it, was Danny, reading a book he borrowed (stolen) from the Wayne manor library.

The boy himself never noticed it. Which made sense, given that he defied gravity all on his own, always floating in the air above the floor.

But the others never acknowledged it either, treating the sudden absence of gravity as a sign of one, Danny appearing somewhere around, and two, him being in a good, if a bit absent, mood.

All in all, it's not the strangest thing that happens at the Watchtower on a daily basis.

And, besides, it's kind of fun.

¤¤¤

Danny, floating in the middle of the game room at Wayne manor, deeply engrossed in a video game: Eat this, sucker!

Tim, using his toes and knees to keep himself from floating up from the couch, not wanting to distract Danny from their match: Oh, you're going down.

Titus in the background:

¤¤¤

Bart, in the middle of a conversation with Kon:

Kon: ...

Bart, looking down at the cup on the floor: ... I guess he left?..

Kon: He literally went through a giant glowing portal two minutes ago, five feet away from you, but that's how you figure it out?

Bart: I have a short attention span, anyway-

¤¤¤

Barry, opening a bag of chips just for all the contents and himself as well to start floating: I swear he does this on purpose, I fucking swear.

¤¤¤

Red Tornado, coming into the training hall of Mount Justice: ...

Young Justice:

Red Tornado: I take it Danny is visiting. I'll leave you to it, then.

¤¤¤

Bruce, walking out of the conference room at the Watchtower to see this on the other end of the hallway, internally: He may be coming this way, I should warn the others in the room.

Bruce, a second later, because he is a little shit deep inside: On the other hand, it's a great surroundings awareness drill, so maybe I shouldn't.

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.