#it's almost like the old eyebrow hairs had to fall out for the new eyebrow hairs to start growing?

[kenobster]

SHIT i forgot to say this, so now i feel bad for making two posts about sick things in a row, but MY HAIR IS GROWING BACK bitchessss 😍

lmao, so before I started chemo, I had my hair cut to a crewcut type of style. So my hair was about 2 centimeters long. And then when it started falling out, I never shaved it to actually be bald. I just started shedding. All over my pillow. It was so annoying. So one night, I just pulled it all out (and no, it didn't hurt - imagine pulling a clump of hair from a husky dog during shedding season) and I dumped it on my bathroom floor (my mom cleaned it up the next day because I felt too sick lol). However there were a few strands that were, for whatever reason, fall-out resistant. I didn't pull those strands out (because pulling those out would've actually hurt), so I'm not technically bald. Do a google image search of "Eleanor bald Good Place" and you'll see what I mean lol. Anyway so I have a few strands of hair just like Eleanor's, which at this point are all about 5 centimeters long. But new hair is also growing, but it's just a stubble. So, check out this faaaabulous illustration of what my hair literally looks like in the mirror right now lmao:

It looks JUST as dorkish as my drawing lmao. Makes me laugh every time.

Anyway lol, I hope you all were as intrigued about these hair anecdotes as I hoped you would be, because honestly I'm fascinated by how all of this has happened.

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

[kirbmey]

— s1!jayvik headcanons (＞×＜)

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

— masterlist.

[cxrsed-angel]

Overtime

pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

rating: 18+

w.c: 2k

summary: You stay late after work with Joel at his construction office. (I suck at summaries, Joel and reader hookup in Joel's office after everyone leaves).

warning: No outbreak AU, Smut, P in V sex (unprotected), fingering, oral (male receiving), dbf ish!Joel, mention of age difference (Joel is like 40+, reader is 20+). Established relationship

a/n: first fic of 2025 🥳this is just porn with no plot that's been in my drafts sorry not sorry. Posting this in hopes it helps me get over my fear of posting fics on here and my forming hatred of this app. this was proof read by only me so sorry if they're mistakes. happy new year :)

You've been at the front desk all day organizing Joel’s clients for the projects and renovation, replying to emails, answering phones, doing your best to answer the questions you can, or forwarding the calls to Joel so he can explain what you can’t. 

 You’ve been his assistant at his construction office since you started college. Joel is a close friend of your dad’s and he had convinced Joel to hire you until you go back to college in the fall to help him organize and with his schedule. You answer the phone, reply to his emails, get his lunch, and do everyday assistant things. Instead, you found yourself bent over at his office desk as fucked you. Almost every day, after everyone had gone home for the day. 

Once you see everyone else has left and it was just you and Joel. You go to Joel’s office and knock on his door. You slowly open it and see him behind his desk on his computer. You take a second looking at him, the gray hair mixing with his brown hair, the little bit of grey coming in on his beard. You never really had a thing for older guys…until now. You see him looking at his computer through the black frame glasses on his nose. He looks up, noticing you standing in the doorway, taking his reading glasses off and setting them on the desk. 

“You can come in, don't worry. ‘Aint too busy.” His deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts of admiring him. You nod, closing the door behind you. He motions for you to come closer, and you waste no time going around his desk. You see emails and his digital ledger on the screen. Next to the computer, he has a large brown leather book, his physical ledger, because he’s yet to feel the need to go completely digital. 

“You know you could probably make this into a spreadsheet. I could help instead of having this double thing you got going on.” You suggest as you open the old ledger, flipping through it. “How long have you had this thing, the 90s, the 80s, oh my god, since Kennedy?” 

Joel closes it, rolling his eyes at the dig of his age and the systems he currently has. His hands go onto your waist, gently pulling you down to sit in his lap. 

“My system has lasted me this long, so I’ll stick with it. Thank you very much. If it were up to me, everything would've remained paper. Damn, computer is hard to read and makes my eyes hurt lookin’ at it all day.” He turns you towards him a bit, changing your focus away from his computer. You lean down, kissing Joel, feeling the scruff of his greying beard against his face. 

Feeling the blood rush in your body, the both of you have been waiting all day to have your hands on each other. He runs his hands up your skirt, bunching it up further on your thighs. You feel his bulge under you, growing harder as you continue making out passionately. His hands squeeze your thighs harder you feel his hard cock pressing against you. 

“Seeing you in this fucking tight skirt all day was killing me, sweetheart. I just wanted to take you in here and fuck you on my desk.”  

You continue kissing him, his hands moving down to your panties, his fingers tracing over your covered core, feeling your wetness. Joel kisses his neck. 

“So wet already?…” He pulls your underwear down, tossing it with your skirt on his office floor. 

His eyebrows raise, looking at you as his fingers rub along the outside of your folds. You shift, humping against his hand for more relief focusing on how good his finger felt rubbing your swollen and needy clit. 

You whine incoherently, mumbling at his words, words failing to form as you get more aroused. He slowly slides two of his fingers inside you, slowly pumping in and out of your aching pussy; hearing the wetness forming, you melt against him, your back pressing against his chest as he spreads your legs while you're sitting in his lap. 

“This is what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to give this needy pussy attention. This pretty little pussy needed me, I can tell? Wanted me to finger fuck under the desk while I’m talking to my clients?” you moan more as he slides a second finger stretching you out. He feels your wetness coat his finger as he thrusts them inside, curling up and reaching your sensitive spot. 

You cry out more. “Joel Joel, Joel!” moaning out his name, your mouth opens, forming an O as he continues fucking you with his fingers feeling your climax building, but the feeling fades as you feel his fingers leave your dripping pussy. You groan disappointedly as you feel. You pout, looking back at him at the arousal still clouding your brain.

“Relax, relax. I’ll give ya what you want soon.” he places a hand on your shoulder, gently moving you off the familiar seat of his lap. You look at him, your face flush as you feel the room getting hotter. 

He softly kisses you quickly before his hard cock straining through his jeans as you kneel in front of him, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, and pulling them down along with his boxers. He stares down at you, his eyes full of lust as he watches you spit in your hand before slowly stroking his big cock, teasing him. He rolls his eyes back as he leans in the chair. 

After jerking him off, for a little you place his hard length in between your lips. You slowly insert the tip of his cock in your mouth, sucking on it and tasting the salty precum on your tongue.  

Joel groans as you tease him, not being able to take it anymore. He shoves his dick deeper into your mouth, making you choke. You followed his pace, bobbing your head up and down the length of his shaft, using your hands to jerk off the rest of what you couldn't fit in your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it. Attagirl, Take it all. Know you can.” You listen, taking him deeper in the back of your throat, your eyes watering. You relax, hallowing your cheeks; his office is filled with the sound of you gaging around his cock. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart, your mouth feels so good. You enjoy this, aren’t ya, sucking the cock of a man twice your age?”

You nod, trying to agree as he continues using your mouth; you look up at him and see his eyes rolling back closed as his chest heaves, still praising you as you suck him off. His grunts and moans get louder; he starts fucking your mouth for a bit, thrusting his cock deeper before letting you come up to catch your breath, taking his cock out of your mouth. 

“Fuck baby…bet your dad didn’t expect you to be on your knees for me every day after work when he suggested you come work for me, huh.” 

You wipe your mouth as you hear his joke, still on your knees, his hand still on your head, rubbing your hair.  “Just don't let it slip out on guys' night after a few beers. Don't know who he’d be more mad at, me or you.” 

You push the thought of anyone finding out about you and Joel in the back of your mind; you don’t want to think about what your dad will say or how he’ll scold you for sleeping with his best friend and your boss. 

He laughs as he grabs your hand, helping you stand up; he kisses you sloppy, crashing his lips onto yours. Tasting himself on your lips. “Don’t worry, ain’t gonna tell him.” 

 He holds your waist, unzipping your skirt and helping you step out of it. He moves it out of the way before moving you towards the desk; he watches you bend over the desk, can’t resist the urge to stare at your ass, he squeezes it before landing another smack on it. 

“You ready, baby girl?” he asks softly, still caressing your lower back. You nod, looking back at him. 

“Yes, yes, Joel, please. I need you,” you whine, not being able to wait any longer. Instead of giving in to what you want, Joel laughs lightly. 

“Sorry, baby, I couldn't hear you; what do you need?” He taunts you as he runs a finger along your folds, making you whimper as frustrated as his teasing. 

“Joel! Oh my god, just fuck me-” Your snappy sentence is cut short, interpreted by his big cock slowly entering the tip inside you; both of you gasp as he pushes more of his length inside you. 

“You just don't know when to shut up, do you, baby? I told you I’d give you want.” His voice is deep and condensing, which arouses more if you're being honest. 

He moves his hips a bit more, and your moans fill his office. And you feel him bottom out inside you, but he doesn't move, letting you get used to his size. After a minute, you nod, letting him know you could move. He slowly moves his hips, thrusting inside you, and you moan more as you feel him deep inside. 

“F-Fuck Joel, you’re so big. Feel you so deep,” Joel growls as his hips start moving faster; he grips your hips tightly fucking into you more. Joel’s office desk rattles underneath you from the force Joel was fucking you. 

“I know, baby, I know, baby. God, You feel so good. How’re you so tight every time? ‘Feel you clenching ‘round me, sweetheart.” his thrust gets faster. 

“Fuck-fuck Joel right there.” you moan as his hard cock stretches you out. You hear him groan as he fucks you harder after hearing the name. He pushes you down onto his desk, moving his papers and construction plans out of the way, off to the side. You feel his hand grab one of your legs, lifting it up onto the desk. The new angle has you feel more of him deeper inside your sensitive core; the arousal builds as you feel your release building, and Joel can, too. 

“Fuck…Joel…I’m-I’m.” You moan and whine as Joel continues thrusting inside you, helping you reach your release. He reaches a hand in between your thighs and rubs your clit as he continues fucking into you, bringing you closer to your climax. 

“C’mon baby, I feel you squeezing ‘round me. Know you’re close. Cum for me, sweetheart.” 

 You feel the knot in your lower stomach and hold on the desk as you cum around Joel’s cock. Your orgasm hits hard, and closing your eyes, you shudder, coming down from your release. 

“That’s it honey, that’s it. Good girl, fuck baby, ‘m not gonna last much longer, Jesus-.” Joel grunts as his thrust gets more and more sloppier. Joel presses deep inside you. He leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as cums. His warm load releases inside your sensitive cunt. You both let out a moan together before relaxing against his desk. You feel him slide out of him, you breathing heavily. 

Joel slowly pulls out after taking a couple of seconds to catch your breath. He lets out a low groaning “Goddamn.” 

He sits back on the chair. He gently grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap. You turn, pulling Joel into a kiss.

“I love you, sweetheart, but we gotta head out before the alarm comes on.” You nod, kiss his cheek, and then down his neck, feeling his hands on your waist.

“You don’t know the alarm code to your own construction office?” you ask a bit skeptically, but Joel just laughs and hands your skirt to you from the floor. 

“I know the code, smartass, just don't feel like messing with the damn thing.” he explains as he’s cleaning you off with a tissue. You nod before leaving his lap, putting your skirt and underwear back on as Joel adjusts his pants. 

“Oh shit, almost forgot. The Smiths said they want to change the hardwood they chose because they don’t think it matches the new wallpaper and wanted to expand the kitchen..” Joel turns his computer off, grabs his coat, and his hand goes to your waist, leading you out of his office. He listens to you tell him about the client from earlier. Ushering you out the door to his truck. 

“Honey… I don't work after 5 p.m., so you don't work after 5 p.m., come on.” He opens the passenger seat of his truck before getting in the driver's seat.

“I know, I just need to write it down so I don’t forget my boss is a real hard ass.” Joel rolls his eyes at your teasing, as he pulls out of the office parking lot leaving, to take you home.

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."

[little-jana]

"Three Times is a Charm"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: awkwardness?, sweet kisses, use of y/n

Words: 3,5k

Summary: Meeting Spencer Reid was like stumbling upon a rare book—unexpected and thrilling. Our paths crossed not once, not twice, but three times in the most peculiar ways.

I didn’t mean to end up at that bookstore. It wasn’t on my list of errands, and truthfully, I didn’t even know it existed until I spotted the faded sign hanging above the shop door: Old Tomes & New Beginnings—Clearance Sale. There was something irresistible about it, the promise of stories hidden in dusty corners. My car could wait, and my to-do list wasn’t going anywhere. So, I pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

The air inside was pleasantly warm, and the aroma of vanilla candles mixed with the familiar scent of old books. I could almost hear the stories whispering to each other, nestled in their places on the wooden shelves. A small bell chimed as the door closed behind me, announcing my arrival. The shop was a maze of tall wooden bookshelves, most sagging slightly under the weight of the books they held, their spines worn from years of handling. It was the kind of place that invited you to stay for hours, to get lost in forgotten pages and dusty memories. And that's exactly what I did. I wandered, my fingers trailing along the spines, occasionally pulling a book down and skimming through its pages before deciding to leave it behind.

Then, my eyes landed on it: Pride and Prejudice —not a rare edition or a first printing, but a well-loved copy with a faded cover and yellowing pages. There was something about it that felt inviting, as if it had been waiting for me to pick it up. I reached for it, standing on my tiptoes, trying to stretch my fingers far enough to grasp the spine. But the stack of books around it was precariously arranged, and as I nudged it, the entire tower of books began to shift.

"No, no, no!" I muttered under my breath, trying to stabilize the pile, but it was too late. The books tumbled one by one, crashing to the ground with a series of loud thuds.

"Are you okay?" a voice called from behind me.

I froze, looking over my shoulder to see a tall, slightly disheveled man crouched down, his hands already gathering the fallen books. His brown hair was messy, and his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as if they might fall off at any second. He was dressed in a cardigan that looked like it belonged in an old library, and his slightly awkward but genuine expression caught me off guard.

"I think so," I said, still kneeling. "Though it seems the books have declared war on me."

The man smiled faintly, then held out a hardcover to me. "Here," he said. "This one seems to have missed the fall."

I glanced at the title. It was Pride and Prejudice. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "You have good taste."

"Jane Austen is a classic," he said, a little too earnestly. "Not to mention a master at subtle social commentary. And Mr. Darcy’s arc... Well, it’s iconic."

I raised an eyebrow. "You really are a fan of Austen’s work, aren't you?"

He looked slightly embarrassed but managed to maintain eye contact. "Guilty as charged," he said. "I’m Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer," I replied. "I’m [y/n]." We exchanged a polite smile, and he moved to help me collect the remaining books. Once we were both standing, I found myself glancing back at Pride and Prejudice, wondering if I should buy it, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.

"You know," Spencer said with a slight hesitation, "I think Pride and Prejudice is the perfect book for someone who wants a little bit of everything. Romance, wit, social critique..."

I looked at him with a playful smile. "You’ve clearly done your homework."

"I suppose I have," he replied, looking sheepish.

Before I could say anything else, he gave a quick nod. "Well, I should probably leave you to the rest of your book shopping. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help but watch him disappear down one of the aisles. There was something about him—something intriguing, something different.

---

A week later, I found myself standing in line at my usual coffee shop, juggling my phone, keys, and a to-do list. It was a Monday morning, and the place was packed with people trying to start their day. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and baked pastries filled the air as I anxiously checked the time on my phone, wondering if I’d make it to my meeting on time.

As I finally reached the counter to pick up my drink, I turned to make my way to a nearby table. That’s when I collided with someone. My coffee cup slipped from my hand in a perfect arc toward the floor.

"Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late. The hot coffee splashed across the table, narrowly missing the man standing in front of me.

He quickly stepped back, raising his hands in an attempt to shield himself, but the damage had already been done. I froze for a second, staring at the coffee stain spreading across the table.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

The man bent down and grabbed a napkin to start mopping up the spill. I blinked. There was something about this scenario that felt... familiar.

"Twice in one week?" I asked, still stunned. "Are you following me, Spencer?"

He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. "No! I swear, I’m not stalking you!" He paused, looking around at the busy café. "I mean, I do come here often, but I don’t think it’s quite the same thing."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the awkwardness of the moment suddenly lifting. "Same here. But I guess we just keep running into each other."

He gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe we’re just... fated to meet by accident."

I gestured to the table behind me. "Do you want to sit with me? It’s the least I can do since I’ve made a mess of your morning."

Spencer looked a bit hesitant but then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

As we sat down and chatted, the conversation turned from the coffee mishap to our work. I learned he worked for the FBI—profiling, specifically—and was part of a team that investigated serious crimes. I couldn’t help but be impressed. His intelligence and passion for his job were evident in the way he talked about his cases, even though he seemed more humble than I expected.

We exchanged stories about our favorite books and movies, discovering that we had quite a few shared interests. Despite his shy demeanor, Spencer’s intelligence and sense of humor shone through. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

“Looks like I’ve kept you from your plans,” Spencer said, glancing at the clock and looking a bit guilty.

I waved him off. "No, I’m glad we talked. Let’s do this again sometime."

As we parted ways, I found myself secretly hoping that I’d bump into him again—preferably without any coffee mishaps. Gladly, we got to exchange numbers.

---

Two weeks later, Spencer invited me on a spontaneous picnic. I was hesitant at first; after all, Spencer wasn’t exactly the type to suggest spontaneous outdoor activities. But when he mentioned his favorite park and that he'd packed us both lunch, I couldn’t say no.

We met early on a Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking over the trees. Spencer had a basket in hand, looking as if he’d stepped straight out of a vintage romance movie. His cardigan, now unbuttoned, fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. He had a nervous energy about him, which I found endearing.

“I may have overpacked,” he said, setting the basket down next to a picnic blanket.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s in there? Enough food to feed an army?”

“Well, no. Just enough food to feed two people who might be hungry after talking about random trivia for hours,” Spencer replied with a smile, clearly amused by his own self-awareness.

We settled down on the blanket, the sounds of the park around us—children laughing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of traffic—mixing with the peaceful vibe of our little picnic. Spencer unpacked the basket, revealing an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and fresh fruit.

“Did you make all this?” I asked, impressed by the spread he’d laid out.

Spencer flushed slightly. “Well, I mean, I don’t cook a lot, but I thought sandwiches would be simple enough. The fruit is from a local farm stand.”

“You’ve got good taste,” I said, picking up a sandwich. “You sure you’re not a secret chef?”

He laughed. “I think my talents lie more in... making the perfect cup of coffee and identifying obscure book quotes. Cooking’s not my thing.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Everything’s delicious.”

For the next few hours, we talked about everything and nothing. We shared little-known facts—Spencer told me about his favorite historical figures and how fascinated he was by World War II espionage. I laughed and chimed in with my own trivia, telling him about random facts I’d read in articles or heard in podcasts.

Every so often, I’d glance over at him and see how deeply he was listening, his full attention on me. It was a quiet, comfortable feeling—one I hadn’t realized I needed in my life. I hadn’t had many deep conversations with people outside my closest circle, but with Spencer, it felt effortless.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, we packed up the basket and sat together for a few moments longer. It wasn’t about rushing to the next activity but savoring the peacefulness of the moment. Just us, sharing a space without the pressure of anything else.

“You know,” Spencer said after a while, his voice quieter now, “I think I could get used to this.”

I looked at him, heart swelling with affection. “Me too. I’m glad we did this.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling under the fading sunlight. “Maybe we could make it a regular thing,” he suggested, and I felt the warmth of his words settle inside me.

“That sounds perfect,” I replied, squeezing his hand, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but feel like everything was finally falling into place.

---

From that point on, our meetings became a little less accidental and a lot more intentional. We made plans to see each other every weekend, enjoying more quiet moments, long conversations, and shared laughter. Spencer’s nervousness faded as he became more comfortable around me, and I couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

One day, after another one of our cozy park picnics, Spencer turned to me with that signature smile that always made my heart flutter.

“I think we’ve made it a habit,” he said, his voice light and teasing.

“Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “A really good habit.”

We both leaned back against the blanket, the soft rustling of the trees above and the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm light around us. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between us, but it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes. I could feel the closeness between us growing stronger, like something was just waiting to happen.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on me, and there was a softness in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat. He seemed almost hesitant, his lips parted slightly, like he was debating something in his mind.

Without saying anything, I slowly leaned in, my heart racing, and before I could second-guess myself, I brushed my lips against his. It was gentle, like a quiet promise, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just him and me, the cool breeze, the sound of our breathing, and the feeling of everything clicking into place.

When we pulled away, I saw the same warm, amused smile on Spencer’s face. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“That was... nice,” he said softly, as if he was surprised by the simplicity and sweetness of the moment.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It was.”

“I think this might just be my favorite habit of all,” he whispered.

I leaned in again, this time not hesitating, and kissed him once more—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

As we parted again, I felt like the world had shifted in the most beautiful way. With Spencer, everything felt natural, easy, like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

We settled back into the blanket, hands intertwined, not needing to say anything else. The sun dipped lower in the sky, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like time was slipping away. It felt like we had all the time in the world.

[whorekneecentral]

A Sandy Christmas

Sugar Daddy!Jenson Button x Fem!Reader

Warnings: the iconic sugar daddy JB, college aged reader (over 20), expensive vacations, gift giving is his love language, you're both soooo all up on each other, the use of daddy both in a sexual and non sexual context, thanking him in good way ;), oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, some old man teasing at the end.

Word Count: 1,714

Author's Note: this is for my og jenson girlies that were here from the start, dedicated to the anon that sent in the first sd!jb ask cause you started all of this pookie!!

merry smutmas series

--

Jenson takes you on a dream vacation over the holidays but still makes sure you’ve got a gift to open come Christmas morning.

Exam season is killing you, mentally and physically.

Every bone in your body hurt from being hunched over at your desk for 18 hours a day and your brain felt like it was going to explode if you kept it up for much longer.

Jenson knew as much and he also knew your exam schedule; he couldn't bear to see his girl like that so he did the one thing he did best.

He whisked you away the moment your final exam was over. He knew it'd be a welcomed distraction given that you'd be returning home for the new years; your obnoxious sister was getting married to her high school sweetheart - you'd rather fall down the stairs than attend the wedding but Jenson promised to take you in to trade your car for a new one if you went.

To be fair, he did just get you the car 2 years ago but he figured he needed some sort of reward to get you to go. If he could join you at the wedding, he would but alas he can't.

Sunny Bora Bora was a welcomed distraction; the sunshine, the beaches, the endless cocktails and cock, were keeping you happy.

The first few days were you and Jenson rolling around in bed, lazing and eating whenever, barely getting dressed and spending sun up to sun down on the beach. You had everything you needed right there.

Despite it just being you and Jenson, he rented a whole villa. All the privacy in the world for you two; it was more so, so he could fuck you anywhere he liked but I digress.

Christmas morning and you're woken not by the sunshine but the feeling of Jenson's stubble on your neck.

"Merry Christmas, pretty girl."

You hum, a hand on his jaw. "Merry Christmas, Jense."

"C'mon, I have something to show you." He whispers in your ear, not giving you a moment to gather yourself. Instead he pulls you out of bed, his hand in yours as you sleepily follow him though the villa.

There's a massive Christmas tree by the windows, right in the middle but that was there when you arrived. What wasn't there before were all the gifts surrounding the tree.

"Jenson," you stop, looking at him. There's a grin on his face. "You didn't."

"I couldn't let Christmas pass without giving you a gift." He smiles, kissing your temple as he sits on the couch.

"We agreed that this trip was my Christmas gift."

"But the trip is for me too, so it can't count. Loophole baby," he raises his eyebrows, almost as high as his ego. You huff, "this is more than a gift, Jenson."

"You're a good girl, I'd buy you the world if I could." He tells you, smiling as you kiss him.

"I don't need the world, Jenson." You tell him, sitting in front of the tree. There are at least 20 bags and boxes neatly wrapped and set under the tree.

"I'd still buy it for you, princess." He smiles, taking a sip of his coffee as you unwrapped your gifts one by one; Gucci, Prada, Van Clef, Louis Vuitton - you name it, it was under the tree.

You had no idea how you'd get it all back home.

You thank him, doing a little try on haul as you unwrap the gifts. Jenson smiles, sitting comfortable as he watches you model your gifts for him.

"Happy?" He asks, patting his thigh. You sit yourself on his lap, an arm over his shoulder as you lean into him.

"Beyond happy," you whispered against his lips. "Thank you daddy."

"Anything for you, baby."

The two of you go about your day, you'll be leaving your little paradise tomorrow and returning to reality so you were trying to soak up the last of the sunshine. Lazing by the water, you watched as Jenson attempted to surf, gave up and decided on a swim instead, the man came back to kiss you, dripping the sea water all over you.

You push him away, giggling as he tries to grab at you. You rolled away, getting up and running from him; Jenson chased you down the beach right back to the villa.

Jenson planned dinner for the two of you, a little restaurant not too far from your villa. You wined and dined, chatting about his work and your plans not to strangle your sister with her veil. He assured you that you'd be fine and that as soon as the wedding was over, you could return home to him.

Upon returning, you decide to pack. This way you two could spend more time in bed in the morning rather than having to rush and pack then.

Jenson's back is to you as you bring in the last of your presents from the living room. He'd manage to fold what you had brought with you into the one suitcase opposed to the two it was in originally and had been trying to fix your gifts into the empty one.

He feels your arm wrap around his waist, fingers drumming against his midriff as you watch him put the boxes into the suitcase.

You're on your tiptoes, a kiss pressed to his jaw; Jenson thinks it's innocent enough and yet, he feels your lips drop lower. From his jaw to his neck and your fingers are pulling at his shirt collar, trying to expose more skin.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, swatting away your wandering hands. "We need to pack."

"Mhm hm," you turn him to face you, your hand on his jaw when you kiss him. Jenson leans on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him

He was easy like that, a kiss from you and he's like putty in your hands.

He watches as your fingers trail down the front of his shirt, sliding under the hem of it. Jenson takes that as his hint to take it off, tossing it on the floor somewhere. Your hand wanders further down, brushing over the cold metal of his belt. 

Jenson smiles, pecking your lips softly. "Let me thank you," you whispered against his lips. His brows furrow, "what for?"

"Everything," you tell him, sinking down onto your knees in front of him.

Jenson undoes his belt and the button, “open.” 

Without hesitation, your mouth opens and you’re looking up at him once again. He slaps your tongue with his cock softly, waiting for a reaction. The slight curve of your lips was enough for him to know it was okay. A hand tangled in your hair, pulling and pushing you, setting the pace. 

The stifled gag was enough for him to pull back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

His eyes fixed on you as your lips wrap around his cock, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.

He can’t help but notice the lipstick on the base of his cock, your head bobbing up and down. Jenson's hand pulls your hair away from your face, letting you set the pace.

His hand turns over and you feel his knuckles brush along your cheek. “Like being on your knees for me, hm? My good girl.” 

The praise hits you straight in the core, only making you go faster. Your cheeks hollow as you bob your head up and down. Jenson's hips buck, your nose brushing against him. 

His head falls back against the couch, breathing out a string of explicits as you hollow your cheeks. “C’mere.” He pulls you off him slowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue sliding up the underside of his cock.

You kiss him, the moan slipping from your lips as he manhandles you.

“Turn around,” he whispers against your lips, a hand on your hip as he turns you around to face the bed. 

Your arms are propped on the mattress, holding yourself up. He pushes your dress up, bunching over your hips. His hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward. 

Panties pushed to the side and Jenson reached forward, a hand tangled in your hair to pull you up, forcing you to look at the reflection in the window. His other hand holds your hip once he pushes into you. 

“See,” he mumbles to himself, glancing down between the two of you before his eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Look how pretty you are,” he whispers, kissing along the back of your shoulder as his hips dig into your ass. 

The knot in your stomach tightens when his hand on your hip slips down between your legs, reaching for your clit. He barely moves his fingers before your own hand reaches down to rest on his. The feeling of his fingers pulls your attention.

"Please daddy-" you're cut off by a moan and by Jenson pushing you down onto the bed.

You prop yourself up on your forearms once again, eyes fixed on anything but what he was doing. 

He could feel you clenching around him, pushing back into him for more.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, I know.” He tells you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

The two of you in sync, Jenson's chest pressed to your back as you came down from your orgasm. He peppered kisses all over your back, rubbing your side softly. He leans to press a kiss to your neck before pulling out slowly. 

You can feel Jenson wiping your thighs and between your legs, cleaning you up before fixing your dress. You're still facedown in the mattress, too fucked out to even think about moving at the moment. He senses as much, giving you a push by the ass and up onto the bed you went.

The clink of his belt comes from behind you, the man fixing his pants - you assumed he'd be joining you in bed but instead, you heard some sort of shuffling behind you.

Rolling you, you see that Jenson had resumed his packing from before.

"You know," you start, sitting up. "Most men your age are dead to the world after a fuck like that."

Jenson laughs, walking over to you. His hand cups your jaw, "I'm not like most guys my age."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[i-dared-myself]

Forced to Main

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hey I’ve been reading your Skz x 9th member fics And wanted to request one where reader used to be the main vocal but got tons of hate during idk maybe maxident era and after gets scared to sing any of her old lines so she like becomes a rapper and doesn’t get much lines anymore

“Are you sure you don’t want to take these lines?” Chan asks, looking up from his laptop. He’s wearing his usual soft smile, dimples forming at the corners.

“I’m sure.” You scroll through your feed, liking a post. “Rapping is fine.”

After the hateful comments you received during the MAXIDENT era, you took a backseat. You had cried for hours over the harsh words the media said about you. Now you refuse to do anything except rap, not wanting to be exposed to the cruel spotlight.

“It’s just…” Chan shifts and types something in, keys clacking. “We don’t have a lot of rapping lines. And they get taken by the others, so you don’t get a lot of lines.”

“I’m okay with it.” You stand up, slipping your phone in your pocket. “Are we done now?”

Chan sighs and shrugs. “I guess so. I’ll send you the lines so that you can prep for recording.”

“Sounds great.” You turn your back to him and go out the door, not catching the expression on his face. 

You wander down to the dance studio, where Hyunjin and Minho are working on a new dance. You watch them from the doorway, a small smile on your lips.

Hyunjin glanced up, rubbing at his buzzed hair. “Oh, what are you doing here?”

“I have nothing else to do.” You wander inside, noticing the glance they share with each other. “What? What’s that look for?”

Minho rolls out his shoulders, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “The others are working on voices right now. Why don’t you join them?”

“I don’t have my lines yet.” You shake your head. “Chan’s figuring something out for my rap verse.”

Hyunjin brightens. “Oh! What if you take some of the main vocals! Remember you used to do that?”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Minho questions. He reaches for his water bottle and uncaps the top. “You used to do it, and you’re good at it.”

“No, I’m not good,” you firmly say. “And I’m just going to rap.”

Hyunjin frowns, but doesn’t push the matter further. He switches topics, eyes flicking to Minho before back to you. “Did you want to help us with this dance then?”

Minho swallows his sip of water before placing the bottle down. “There’s a lift we need to work on.”

“A lift?” you repeat. “Uh, I guess. Who am I lifting?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “Oh, please. I’m buffer than you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Let’s arm wrestle. Loser gets lifted.”

Minho chuckles darkly, almost menacingly. “I want to see this.”

There’s a table set up in the corner, so the three of you gather around it. You and Hyunjin face off, with Minho being the referee. You struggle for a minute before he slams your arm down.

You flex your wrist, feeling spasms of your old wrist injury. “Okay, fine. Lift me.”

Minho and Hyunjin get into position, holding their hands out for you to step on. You stabilize yourself with your hands on their shoulders, wobbling slightly as they push you upwards.

“Okay,” Minho says, “now carefully-“

You fall.

Your injured wrist catches the most of your weight with a sickening crunch.

Hyunjin gags, covering his eyes. “That’s- Oh my gosh!”

Your eyes water at the pain, clutching it with your other hand. “I- It really hurts.”

Minho kneels next to you, eyebrows pinched with concern. “Yeah… Hyunjin, go get Chan.”

“It hurts.” You whimper as Minho gently touches your wrist. He retracts his hand and awkwardly pats his back.

“This is entirely your fault,” he tells you, much to your outrage.

“What?” you exclaim, pain momentarily forgotten. “How the hell is this my fault?”

“You lost to Hyunjin.” Minho points his chin to the table where the arm wrestling had occurred. “If you had won, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Chan hurries in with wide eyes, Hyunjin and a first aid attendant behind him. He motions to you and the first aid attendant bustles over to you. Your wrist is examined and you’re told to go to the hospital.

“I’ll drive you,” Chan says, patting himself down. He locates his phone (in his pocket as usual) and messages the rest of the group. “Minho, Hyunjin, go home and prepare dinner,” Chan orders. “We’ll get there as soon as we can.”

Hyunjin nods. “Will do. Uh, does preparing dinner mean getting food delivered?”

Chan waves a hand at them, shooing you out the door. “Sure. Whatever.”

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

You broke your wrist, and are in a cast. It won’t be off in time for an upcoming performance, which means you can’t do your choreography. Yours includes a lot of hand movements, and you can’t exactly do that now.

Felix perks up on the couch. “What about if she takes the main vocals? It doesn’t have any hand motions.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Jisung says with a mouthful of dinner, which was not homemade. “Seungmin is good at rapping and could take over.”

Seungmin shrugs. “I’d be okay with it.”

Everyone faces you, and your stomach sinks. This is it. What you had been dreading.

“I’m not sure,” you warily say. “I’m not the best at it.”

“What are you talking about?” Changbin lifts the corner of his lip. “You’re great. I don’t know why you took rapping when you’re amazing at main vocal.”

You shift in your seat, glaring at your cast. Everyone had tried to sign it and you had barely kept them away.

“Give it a try?” Jeongin pleads. He blinks slowly, making sure to be as adorable as possible. “Pretty please?”

Damn him and his cuteness.

“Fine,” you relent, sighing heavily. You scowl at him and he just smiles pleasantly. “I’ll do it.”

Chan stands up, placing his hands on his hips. “Great. Now that it’s settled, we’ll practise this new arrangement tomorrow. I want everyone up at seven, and in the van by eight.”

You get to your feet, wanting to go hide in your room. Felix is watching you with a knowing look that makes you want to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t force the truth out of you.

“Wait,” Felix says before you can escape. “Is there a reason you think you’re not good enough for main vocals?”

You duck your head, avoiding eye contact. “No.”

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Seungmin remarks. “You suck at lying.”

You whip your head up to glower at him. “If my arm wasn’t broken I’d-“

“You’d what?” Seungmin taunts. He snickers to himself. “You’re too scared to sing any of your old lines.”

Your expression crumbles, and everyone sucks in a breath. You sink back onto the couch as tears bubble into the corners of your eyes.

“Too far,” Jeongin murmurs to Seungmin.

Seungmin lifts his chin. “I’m not wrong. Or are you going to lie again?”

“You’re not wrong,” you admit bitterly. “I’m scared.”

Hyunjin scoots closer to you on the couch. “We’re talking about the assholes that said you couldn’t hit the high notes, right?”

You sniffle and wipe at your face. “Yeah.”

“Well have they ever hit the high notes?” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “No. Their opinions aren’t worth shit.”

Chan smiles softly at you, handing you a box of tissues. “That’s right. Although I would’ve said it in nicer words.” He shoots Jisung and Hyunjin pointed looks. “The only opinion that matters is yours.”

“And mine,” Seungmin adds. “And I think you’re fantastic.”

Changbin holds out his arms. “Hug?”

You nod and let him envelop you in a warm embrace. Your eyes droop from the stress of everything, and he notices.

“Bedtime?” Changbin suggests. 

You peel away. “Yeah, I’ll go off to bed now. Goodnight, everyone.”

“Sorry about your broken wrist,” Minho calls after you as you go up the stairs. “It’s Hyunjin’s fault.”

You hear Hyunjin’s muffled cries of protest as the others start scolding him for dropping you. You smile, ready to sing your old lines again.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic

[preqwells]

♡︎♡︎ SWEET.

simon riley x reader synopsis: you and your fiancé were settling in for the night, ready to go to bed until you insisted on doing a little skincare with him— he didn't know it'd bring about old memories. tags: fluff, slight angst/lots of comfort, mentions of blood word count: 1.8k

There you were again— another night of standing in front of the mirror, your menagerie of face products messily lined upon the white-marbled sink, the hum of a low fan serving as white noise as you got ready for bed. The bathroom’s humidity welcomed you, having just gotten out of a well-deserved shower. A white towel wrapped snugly around you as you reached your hand out to press it against the fogged glass, rubbing the condensation away in short and swift motions. You leaned over the sink in a feeble attempt to get closer to it, the edge of the sink poking at your stomach as your eyes squinted in concentration. An exasperated sigh left your lips, eyes daring to roll back into the back of your head out of sheer annoyance from the inconvenience. A sudden hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into its warmth as you jolted up out of surprise, your shoulders loosening once you put two and two together.

“Boo.” The gruff voice whispered, his voice reverberating from his chest into your frame. A huff of amusement escaped through his nose, seeming quite pleased with his ability to still catch you off guard doing such mundane things as taking care of yourself. He was met with a gentle elbow to his hardened abdomen, your elbow seeming to take more of the blow than him. “Rude, Simon.. I was busy!” You griped, reprimanding your fiancé for sneaking up on you when he was aware of how much you hated that. Years of military training seemed to only hone his stealth rather than diminish it, his tendency to loom in hallways and corners out of pure habit by now. “Uh-huh. Bet you were, love. Quite a shame.” Simon supplied simply, unphased by words that lacked any venom in them. He slipped past you with ease, extending his arm out towards the lid of the toilet seat, letting it fall as he took a seat atop it, legs spreading as he drank in your figure. Simon did this often, almost following you around like a lost puppy— dark eyes simply fixated on you and enamored with your movements. “I was! I was about to put on a face mask.” You said as your hand reached for a nearby packet, the small gray packet crinkling with each movement. Simon’s eyes narrowed in examination of the product, brows slightly furrowed as he took it from you without further hesitation, his eyes scanning it, practically burning holes into it. “Charcoal... paper mask. What s’all this for?” He asked with a hint of interest in his tone, his brows knitted in skepticism. He was aware of your interest in skincare, yet the topic remained foreign to him for the most part. He had no need for it although his skin was beyond needing care. A couple of ingrown hairs from messily shaving in the wrong direction, and purple under eyes that did anything and everything but blend into his skin. Skincare— what the hell does anyone need skincare for? Are soap and water not enough these days?

“It’s supposed to reduce oil by pulling blackheads out or something, I think.”

“Your skin’s oily?”

“Isn’t yours too?”

“Dunno. Just usually scrub the shit out of it and roll out of bed good as new...” He mused, rotating the packet between his index finger and middle, offering it back to you after he was done. Being in the military left little room to worry about the condition of his skin, the only liquid meeting his skin being water, sweat, and blood— his own... most of the time. It was a folly thought to think you believed he was informed about the condition of his skin, stifling a small laughter caught in his throat. You gently took it from him, attempting to rip the top of the plastic packaging off and absentmindedly setting it aside before an idea crossed your mind. Simon sensed this, his eyebrows slightly raised as interest peeked through his poker face.

“Si…” You began sweetly, your voice comically raising an octave in an attempt to persuade him. As predicted, Simon’s resolve slowly crumbled at the sweetness in your voice, mentally cursing himself for being such a sucker for you. “What is it?” He softly inquired, his head cocked slightly to the side as he awaited your words. “Would you want to try this with me?”

"Try what?"

"A face mask— don't act stupid."

"If I wanted to act stupid, I'd take notes from you, lovie."

"Oh, ha-ha." You stuck your tongue out at him, eliciting a huff of amusement from him. He remained quiet as he gently took ahold of your hand, getting your fingers to loosen their grip on the packet. His eyes scanned the foreign piece of plastic, reading the ingredients it contained. You caught his attention, moving closer to him as you pointed out the ingredients.

"These are just all the things it's mixed with. Niacinamide is supposed to help with oil reduction, the aloe is for calming inflamed skin..." You trailed off as you gestured for him to read the rest. He gave you a look that practically screamed, 'You don't need any of this', but he obliged in the directions you gave him anyway. Everything checked out with what you said, not that he'd doubt your knowledge. You always knew about little facts, odds and ends here and there-- maybe that's why you kept wiping the floor with him whenever you two would watch Jeopardy.

He inhaled deeply for a moment before letting the puff of air out through parted lips, finally giving you a nod of acknowledgment at your earlier offer. "Yeah, sure." He agreed, shrugging it off as if it were no big deal. The corners of your lips tugged to form a huge grin as he handed the packet back to you to rip open. You took a step forward between his legs, his dark brown eyes watching you with rapt attention. Pale eyelashes flicked up to trail your features as you struggled to open the packet, much to his delight. The shape of your lips, the way strands of your hair would fall into your face and catch against your long lashes that dropped over your eyes— Simon was by no means a saint, but God, did he want to be one for you. His hand found its way to your clothed hip, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric.

"Aha! Got it!" You threw your hands up in the air, fists clenched as you celebrated your small victory of getting the packet opened. "Ready?" You eagerly asked, practically teeming with joy. He stiffened slightly at your words, his eyes straying from yours for a moment. He didn't know what came over him— you had seen his face a thousand times, hell, it wasn't like he was wearing a mask now. Maybe it was the way that all these face products served as a reminder that he didn't have perfect skin. Better yet, it served as a reminder he was far from perfect himself. Scars littered his body, some from even when he hadn't been in the military— each scar on his body told a story, some nastier than others. "Yeah." He responded bluntly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. You were his fiancé and accepted him wholeheartedly— he knew that. Your relationship had been through hell and back to get to where you are now. Countless missions he had gone on that you were convinced he wasn't going to come back from, dreading the day that you'd only have his dog tag to remember him by. You were the only person he had left and gave a promise of coming back to— everything be damned if he didn't claw his way back to you every time.

You fished the paper mask out of the packaging that was soaked in product, his eyebrow twitching in curiosity about how it was going to be applied. "Close your eyes." You cooed as he stared at you for a moment before his eyelashes fluttered shut. Your expression softened as you straightened the mask before placing it over his face, the coolness of the mask sending a chill up his spine. You began smoothing out the mask with your thumb, delicately mapping out his features. His nose was crooked from the time he told you he broke his nose at age 18 for getting into some barfight at a local pub, which served as no surprise since you were well aware of his temper when it was directed towards others. Craters of acne scarring embedded into his cheeks from his nails digging at the painful hormonal acne he had suffered from until the ripe age of 22. The scar on his chin from when he had scraped it on a rock as a rookie in training for the military. All of what made Simon, Simon.

"You're handsome." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it." He replied, his voice mirroring yours. You gave him a weak smile as you shook your head, your thumb still smoothing down the edges of the mask. He always hid behind his cocky demeanor, vulnerability masked by his dry humor. "No, I mean it." You mumbled as a moment of silence fell between you two, filled by the low hum of the bathroom fan. His hand was still resting on your hip, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh blanketed by polyester. He didn't say anything in response, opting to say nothing as he blinked a few times, his gaze falling on a nearby bath towel that was strung up to dry. Even though his words failed him, you could've sworn you saw a hint of a smile threatening to grace his features.

The rest of the evening continued with him learning more about skincare, letting you ramble on about which products you were looking forward to getting in the future. Night fell as quickly as the evening ended, landing you two in the comfort of your shared bed. You fell asleep before he did, practically swallowed whole by the cotton blanket you two had picked out a week ago. Maybe it's too big, he thought to himself. His eyes landed on your sleeping form, watching as your chest rose and fell rhythmically. Your hair was sprawled across the pillow as moonlight filtered in through the curtains, almost giving an illusion of an aureole of light surrounding you— he could've mistaken you for an angel itself if he were half-asleep, honestly. He reached out for your hand, gingerly taking it in his as he admired the ring he had proposed to you with. His index finger grazed across the band of gold, the reality that you were his pulling at his heartstrings.

He fell asleep with you in his arms that night, peppering kisses to your temple before bringing his face down to rest in the crook of your neck with him tucked at your side. He wasn’t burdened by nightmares for the first time in a while— he dreamed.

banner credit: @/saradika

[synkqngel]

#resolutions.

pairing: non!idol winter x f!reader.

desc: 2 hours until midnight, 2 hours until you welcome the new year and 2 hours until minjeong’s 24th birthday.

wc: 1.6k

tags: slight angst if u squint; not proofread, minjeong seems like a red flag at first 💔

warnings: none really, maybe a SLIGHT implication of sexual encounters (not really but yk)

it had been aeri’s idea to throw a new year's party against your better judgement — after all, you're her flatmate, which also means you have a say on what gatherings can happen in this apartment specifically. “come on, yn, it'll only be a small gathering,” the pink haired girl had told you.

by ‘small gathering’, she meant her six of her colleagues, old friends from your high school, and her whole friend group. by no means was this considered large, but you worry about how everyone would fit in a 200sqm apartment. her friend group (which was coincidentally also your *only* friend group), consisted of jimin, yizhuo, and minjeong. you didn't hate minjeong, it's not like you weren't close or anything— you were, maybe just a little too much. unbeknownst to the other three, you had been stuck in a constant cycle of ‘will they won't they’, a cruel reminder of the nights you’ve spent in the blonde’s twin sized bed only to wake up without her.

kim minjeong is confusing.

you don't know where you stand with her. multiple times she has whispered you, ‘i love you’ underneath the covers; multiple times where she had almost slipped up and introduced you as her girlfriend in front of people she meets, only to act like she doesn't even *know* you later. confusion and hurt: the two words you would use to describe your relationship (or lack thereof), and intoxicating: the word you would use to describe kim minjeong— or maybe hesitant. countless of times you have fallen into this game of push and pull.

and it would take the heavens to keep you from doing so.

~

aeri snaps her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your daydream. “hellooo? aeri to n/n,”

you whip your head over to look in her direction, blinking a few times. “sorry, what’re you talking about?”

“you've been like this all day,” she continues, furrowing her eyebrows. “is something up? c’mon, spill it— im your best friend.”

a few seconds of silence follow, before you finally snap out of it for a second time. “nothing, i'm just tired, we've been cleaning the damn apartment all day long, aeri.”

the pink-haired girl began to laugh, seemingly relieved her best friend, the one she knew and loved was back. “there you are! you've been strangely quiet, i was getting worried.”

“i hate cleaning, you know that, gi,”

meaningless conversation followed, something the two of you had grown to love ever since you moved in together, before the sound of your doorbell ringing caught your attention. patting you on the back, aeri stood up, making her way to the door to see who it was. checking the front door camera, the familiar heads of wine red and black hair appeared at the door, you heard aeri animatedly greeting the two before the door shut behind them.

you stood up, moving to hug jimin and yizhuo with a grin plastered across your face. thank the lord the previous conversation with aeri distracted you from the thoughts of minjeong. “jimin, ning, thanks for coming,” you smiled, exclaiming into the material of jimin’s sweater.

the tallest laughed, fixing your top as she pulled away. “of course, if it's you guys, i'd come in a heartbeat.”

you'd always considered jimin to be the most motherly out of everyone, taking care of each and every one of you and your friends. turning to yizhuo, you find she’s already sat down at the kitchen island, pouring herself a drink as she gossips with aeri.

~

coats pile up on the rack as the night falls and the party stretches on, with more familiar faces and some unfamiliar ones, which you assume are aeri’s colleagues. however, when the doorbell rings again only to find minjeong at the door with a small present, all your emotions begin to flood your mind, the buzz of the party unable to distract your thoughts when you're faced with the root of your distress.

a beat passes.

“i didn't think you'd come. i thought you were in busan.” a mumble. you avoid her neutral gaze in fear of breaking down.

“i came back early,” she replies in a much softer tone. the short haired girl extends the gift box out to you. “merry late christmas, don't tell the others i didn't get anything for them,”

you let her in, watching as she goes through the process of hugging and greeting each one of her friends before walking off to talk to some other people. pocketing the small gift box, you slump down on the couch, watching the sky outside for a while.

“hey,” a voice beside you says. someone approaches you, glass in hand, and you recognise her from one of your classes. you turn to face her, sitting up offering a small smile. “yn, right? i'm natty.”

“oh, yeah, ive seen you around but we've never had the chance to talk before,” she smiles at your words, taking a sip of her drink. “nice to meet you.”

you return the smile; she's sociable, easy to talk to even. “nice to meet you, too.”

the minutes pass, and you fail to notice minjeong’s eyes boring into the back of your head from where she's sat on a stool. ryujin stops herself mid sentence, her eyes following the blonde’s trail of sight. “jealous, huh?“

the other whips her head around to face her. “huh? what do you mean?”

“never mind,” she smiles before changing the subject.

minjeong watches your conversation intently— just why was her face getting hot? her expression is a mix of frustration, bitterness, and confusion. just why was she feeling this way? she runs her hand through her short blonde hair, turning to ryujin. “i'll be back, i'm going to the bathroom.” the other gives her a nod as she basically dashes to lock herself in the bathroom. as minjeong stares at her reflection in the mirror; she grips the edge of the counter, her face red and eyes glossy. “fuck, i'm losing it,” she mumbles.

kim minjeong has never felt this way.

now that she has; she doesn't know how to handle it— and it's killing both you and her at the same time: two birds with one stone.

switching the faucet on, she splashes her face with the chilling water in an attempt to snap herself out of it; to collect and compose herself. minjeong looks back at her reflection in the mirror, face now dripping with water— her reflection scares her. “get it together, kim minjeong. jesus christ, what are you doing?!” she whispers before drying her wet face with a paper towel and making her way back to the party.

the time on her phone displays 11:53. 7 minutes until midnight.

after searching almost desperately for another three minutes, she finds you alone on the balcony, silently watching you as you stared at the skyline, the cold winter air blowing at your face and messing up your hair.

her breath hitches at the sight.

you turn your whole body around, leaning against the glass railing. “what?”

“we need to talk,” minjeong states, stepping closer.

“about what?” your eyebrows furrow and you look to the side briefly.

“our relationship.”

those two words hit you like a fucking punch to the gut. you freeze in place, looking her square in the eyes. your eyes widen and the words you're trying so desperately to say become trapped in your dry throat.

“you don't get to say that, kim minjeong.”

minjeong is taken aback. she furrows her eyebrows, her lips forming a slight frown. “what?”

“you heard me. you don't get to show up and tell me we need to talk about ‘our relationship.’” you scoff, stepping closer to the other. “because, let's be real, what fucking relationship even is there? we're friends, but you sometimes want to pretend we're dating for your own benefit— what's it going to be, minjeong, what am i?!”

a beat follows as neither of you talk, too afraid to continue.

those minutes feel an awfully lot like hours before she speaks again.

11:58.

“look, n/n,” she begins. “fuck, i never meant to make you feel that way, i'm- i'm just confused, and—”

“confused?“

“let me speak. now that i've gotten too close, i pushed you away in confusion— i don't know how the fuck to deal with shit like this,” minjeong continues, extending her arm to grab your hand— its cold against hers. “i'm so, so sorry, and i know you're hurt and pissed and you don't have to forgive me, but—”

the commotion from inside the party breaks the bubble surrounding the both of you, pulling you back to reality.

ten.

breathe in; breathe out. minjeong's breaths are shallow as she takes in your slightly confused expression.

nine.

minjeong swallows, looking you in the eyes before continuing.

eight.

“i'm so sorry,”

seven.

she closes her eyes for a half-second. “i really, really,”

six.

confused, you speak up. “minjeong, what the hells going—”

five.

“shush.” the blonde huffs. “let me continue.”

four.

“i really like you,”

three.

she tracks her words again, realising what she had just said. “no, i'm in love with you.”

two.

minjeong takes a deep breath, making eye contact.

one.

“i'm really, really in love with you,” she whispers, as if no one but you and her were to know it, as if it were a secret.

twelve midnight.

“minjeong, what—” you begin, only to be interrupted and caught off guard by the sensation of minjeong’s pink lips against yours. soft and gentle, she grabs the side of your face, pulling you in as you finally kiss her back, and it's all she's ever wanted. it's all *youve* ever wanted.

all the nights you've spent dreaming of this, dreaming of minjeong: dreaming of being hers, weren't in vain. no, not at all.

when she finally pulls away, she stares into your eyes, the city lights reflecting off of your irises. “happy new year.”

a few seconds of comfortable silence pass before you speak again, your voice quiet.

“and happy birthday, minjeong,”

~

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY WJNTER DAYY (in my timezone atleast) i literally wrote this in like an hour while waiting for the fireworks so i'm sorry if it's trash 😭😭

[illusionsdelusions101]

Ｄｏｇ Ｗａｌｋｅｒ☆

Guys. I kinda love this. Trying out some new stuff <3

!!!NOT PROOFREAD!!!

Charles x fem!reader

Type~Fluff

You sigh as you knock profusely on Charles Leclerc's door. You get out your phone once more for what feels like the thousandth time, and text him, when in reality you sent him only five texts. You take a step back as you hear shuffling in the apartment and a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Charles, his eyes wide with pity and panic. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I overslept, I'm late for meetings! Shit!" He leaves the door open you his apartment as he sprints back to his room to get out of his pyjamas and into proper clothes. You step inside of the grand Monaco apartment, admiring it everytime you walk into the comforting space. Suddenly, you hear fast paws, scratching on the wood floor. You smile, already knowing the small Dacshund was making his way towards you. You kneel on the floor as you see the golden fur of the dog. He runs to you, putting his front paws up on your knee has he jumps up on you. "Hey bud!" You chuckle as you pick him up, licking all over your face. "Ready for your walk?" Leo barks in response. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "

Shit, shit, shit!" Charles curses for almost the hundreth time. He fumbles with the keys as he tries to lock his door. You look at the puppy, sitting on the floor paitently, wagging his tail. His harness and his leash connected to him, the leash in your hand. You're a dog walker for the famous Charles Leclerc. You're an old friend of his, you train dogs, your good at your job, no doubt. You usually train police dogs but you have some days off. One day in particular, is when Charles is in meetings and hasn't got the time to walk Leo. You teach Leo how to heel and sit and stuff like that, small things to make Charles's life a little easier and the wood floors not covered in dog piss. "Your getting paid extra. I'm so sorry." He looks at you for a second, while still juggling the keys in his hand. He finally tries a gold one, going into the keyhole perfectly, and turning with a satisfying click. He mutters a small "aha!" under his breath, while you start giggling at him. "What's so funny?" He turns to you, hands on his hips as he cocks an eyebrow causing you to laugh louder and harder. "I'm usually the one late, I thought Charles Leclerc was always early and on time?" You cover your mouth. "Fashionably late, this time." He flips his non existent long hair, which makes you proper laugh and blush. Yes yes, you had a crush on Charles Leclerc, but who doesn't? You're just lucky he even knows who you are and that you exist. You liked him for his humour and personality, but yes, looks and charisma did also play a big part. "Let's hit the road!" You exclaim, which causes Leo bark and start walking. You walk down as far as the car park where he waves you a goodbye with his perfect smile. You return it. You and Leo make your way to a park, you watch as the leaves start falling, signaling it will be Winter soon. Christmas, snow, hot chocolate, the whole lot. You blush at the thought of it spending it with Charles, you shake the thoughts quickly as you realise a cat is across the road and Leo is barking his head off. As you were walking Leo, Charles couldn't stop thinking about you in the meetings. Your smile, laugh, your eyes, everything about you. It's corny as fuck but when he saw you again after highschool, it felt like love at first sight. You were training a dog that was quiet stubborn but you weren't giving up. When Charles saw you, he froze in his car. When you were close enough to it, he jumped out, calling your name and you started talking. If he cold go back to that moment, he would again and again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You're chilling inside of Charles's apartment after your walk with Leo, Charles gave you a key incase you were finished early or you wanted to come by. You thought of this as a nice gesture so whenever you came over, you cleaned. You always left the place sparkless and he always bought you food, win win. You hear the door unlock, the aroma of pizza makes its way throughout the apartment. You hear footsteps get louder and you see Charles come into the living room with a pizza box. "Hey." He grins at you exhaustedly. "Hey." You return it. He throws himself on the couch after placing the pizza box on the coffee table. You guys have a feast, eating, laughing and chatting. As you cleaned up, you knew it was time to tell a secret to Charles. A secret you've kept for a long time but it would be told now. "Charles?" "Yes?" "I'm moving to Argentina." Crash. "Charles, are you okay?" You step over the shards of plate and end up standing next to him. You take his hand and study it, a small cut with blood, but still producing a lot. You look up at him, his eyes were spaced and heavy with something. Dread, most likely. "We have to get this cleaned up, cmon Charlie." You tug on his arm. But he doesn't budge. "When... do you leave?" He swallows hardly. "Early morning. Everything is at home packed. I just wanted to spend my last time here, with you, before I go. Cmon, let me clean you up." You bandaged his hand, and sat on the couch with him, trying to crack some jokes but nothing. He was so.. empty. You sat on the couch, the TV playing some white noise. You looked at him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. My lease was up and one of my friends live there so I thought it would be a nice change.... I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier so you could get a new walker for Leo." You explain to him, a pang in you heart as you see his eyes well up with tears. You look at the clock. 8pm. It was time for you to go home and get some sleep, as you flight was at 4am. "I have to go, speak to me Charlie." You pleaded, desperation in your voice. "Fine." You get up grab your purse off the coffee table and walk into the hallway. You take off your slippers and place on your combat boots. You check yourself in the mirror, wiping away a tear in your eye with your nail. You turn towards the door and open it, a hand grabs your wrist and you look back. Charles. He closes the door with his other hand, and takes your hands in his. "Don't leave. I need you." He says lowly. "I...We're good friends. We can make it work over Faceti-" "Not a platonic, 'I need you'. A romantic, 'I need you.' Are you that dense? I love you. Stay. Fuck Argentina, stay with me." He slips one of his hands out of your and uses it to tilt your head up, making you look him in his gorgeous eyes. He leans down and gives you a sweet kiss, filled with love. "If I didn't convince you, I hope that did." You stand there, in shock. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him again, with fierce love and promise. A promise that you will stay. "I love you too, Char." You whisper against the ghost of his lips. "So your staying? With me? And...will you be my girlfriend?" He does a cute clueless little eyeroll, which makes you laugh and blush. "Yes, to all of those." You kiss in the dimly lit hallway one last time.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Warnings: Another pretty tame chapter ngl. Mild mention of murder I guess??

Word Count: 1,195

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N just a reminder that my requests are open :)

"Blitzo, can't you just deal with whatever it is on your own?" Y/n groaned, rubbing her temples in irritation as she stepped out of the office, "I swear to god, if this is some joke? I'm gonna kill you."

There was the quiet, indiscernible drone of the TV. Other than that, the room was silent. Y/n looked up, her eyes falling on the wall beside the office's door and the people who stood before it.

Moxxie, Millie, and Blitzo in a quiet, tense line. She raised her eyebrows, nearly smiled.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Blitzo uncharacteristically said nothing, simply raising his hand and pointing to the entry way. Y/n's eyes narrowed, her muscles tensed and ready for a fight as she followed the path indicated by his gesture. The hand on the knife at her side fell slack as her gaze landed on an achingly familiar face.

"Holy shit." she mumbled, her mouth falling open a little.

"Yeah, uh, he's been asking for you?" Moxxie nervously explained, "You didn't... I mean, he's the Radio Demon. He hasn't been seen in years, you didn't fuck with him... did you?"

Y/n felt tears press behind her eyes again as she took a tentative step forwards. Then another one. Slowly, she crossed the room to the taller demon who just stood there with a smile, watching her all the while with his arms folded behind his back. Y/n peered up at him, her eyes narrowed as they met his own.

The one person in the whole world she'd been practically dying to see. There was a pain, he was the cause and the cure of it. Hesitantly, she raised a hand and poked his nose.

"Shit." Blitzo muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Millie let out a subtle gasp.

"Are you done?" Alastor asked, his voice crackling with irritation as he looked down at Y/n, whose arms were now crossed over her chest.

"I had to make sure you weren't a dream." she shrugged, turning her head away, "Mox was right, you've been gone seven years."

"Are you mad?" he teased, leaning down towards her ear.

Y/n rolled her eyes, turning to face him once again. She scowled at the man for a moment before a smile broke out across her face.

"I never could stay mad at you." she admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I..." Moxxie trailed off in confusion.

Alastor slowly wrapped his arms around Y/n's waist.

"Mills, start planning a funeral." Blitzo scoffed.

Before any of the trio could say another word, he had lifted her off her feet and was spinning her in the air.

"Al!" Y/n shrieked through her laughter, "Stop it! You'll mess up my hair!"

He set her down again and the pair released each other.

"You menace." Y/n shook her head, still laughing, "It's like you knew I was thinking of you."

"You were, were you?" he teased, leaning down to her level.

"Y/n, do you know the Radio Demon?" Millie interrupted, taking a step forward.

Both Alastor and Y/n turned to face her.

"What, this old freak?" she asked, elbowing him gently.

"I resent that." Alastor hummed and Y/n laughed again, her joy unbridaled.

"Yeah, we're friends." Y/n confirmed, catching the genuine concern in her friend's eyes, "Known each other for about as long as I've been down here."

Alastor nodded as Y/n looked back up at him.

"Speaking of the old days," he hummed, looking her up and down, "what's this new look you've got?"

"Huh?" Y/n looked down at her clothes before turning and meeting his eyes once again, "Oh, I'm an assassin now."

"No no no, my dear." he shook his head, "This simply wont do. I can't have you wandering around looking like some ragamuffin."

Alastor snapped his fingers and Y/n looked down to see she was wearing a dress now. She almost yelled at him, almost tore him a new one and called him a dick. Then she realized what dress it was she was wearing. Y/n looked up at Alastor with wide eyes.

"This is..."

"The dress you murdered your husband in, yes."

Y/n squealed, throwing her arms around Alastor's neck and pulling him in for another tight hug that he reluctantly accepted. Letting him go, she spun around, watching the way the skit splayed out from her legs.

"You remembered! Oh, Alastor! Thank you."

"The fuck." Blitzo muttered to himself, watching the scene playing out before him.

Y/n beamed up at him as Alastor raised a claw, looping it through the circle on the collar Y/n still wore. All of her other accessories and clothing had vanished, as he had intended, except for this. He hummed thoughtfully and Y/n's cheeks grew hot with shame. She looked away.

"What's this then?" he asked, letting the ring fall from his finger.

It hit the leather of the collar with a quiet thud.

"Look, I... made some bad choices." Y/n sighed, refusing to meet his eyes, "A physical sign of a very real metaphysical decision I had to make."

"Quite possessive, to cast a spell like that." Alastor mused, "You always had a thing for that though, didn't you."

Y/n raised her arms, wrapping them tightly around her body at the harsh remark. She made to move away from him but, as she did, Alastor grabbed Y/n's chin, forcing her to look at him. He watched her expression carefully.

"You could have come to me. You know I would have taken that delectable little soul off your hands in a moment."

"Yeah well, you weren't here." Y/n firmly stated, taking a step back so he no longer held her, "I did what I had to do to survive."

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"And who exactly did you make this... bad decision with?"

"Al, can we please talk about this later?"

"They don't know, do they."

"They do." Y/n insisted, "I just... please, not now."

"Fine." Alastor relented after a moment.

The pair fell silent, Alastor's critical gaze interlocked with Y/n's indignant one.

"Sooo," Blitzo began, breaking the awkward silence and drawing the attention of the room off the pair and onto him as he took a step forward, coming to a stop beside Millie, "you two fucking?"

"Jesus, Sir!?" Moxxie exclaimed in shock.

"You can't be serious, right?" Y/n laughed in surprise, "No, Blitzo, we're not fucking. The day Alastor has a sex drive is the day Heaven is overrun by... I don't know, giant killer bees?"

"It's more likely than you think, dear."

"What's that-"

Alastor cut her off mid sentence, placing a hand over her mouth as he caught the images flashing across the TV on the other side of the room.

"Hey, rude." Y/n scoffed, pulling herself from his grip.

Alastor ignored her. With a flick of his finger, he raised the volume on the TV. At the sight of his narrowed eyes and tight smile, Y/n turned to see what exactly was bothering him so much.

----

Next Chapter --> Chapter Four -- Vox

[dilfsfordinner]

𝐚/𝐧- i like to think that gojo found megumi when he was a toddler instead of six years old, so in this, megumi acts a little younger, like around four

—————————————————————————

Going to Ikea at 7 o’clock at night wasn’t something you had ever imagined yourself doing, especially over a tantrum a particular black haired boy had thrown, and yet you found yourself roaming the aisles with him strapped into the shopping cart, your sunglass clad companion trailing alongside you, insisting on pointing out every single thing he spotted that would look amazing in your shared home.

Your slow pace of pushing the cart around the maze of a store had Megumi’s patience running thin, his already sour mood turning brattier by the minute, his chubby little face contorting into a tried angry expression, one which he thought looked intimidating but was actually just the cutest little pout, a fact you kept to yourself to prevent him from throwing another crying fit.

The whole reason for your journey occurred when Megumi’s old bunny stuffed animal finally kicked the bucket at dinner, the blue rabbit’s head unraveling from its body as Megumi just watched in horror, yours and Gojo’s mouths open in a silent gape as his favorite toy was reduced to nothing but a pile of threads. It was bound to happen one day, its drool stained fur and tattered limbs clear signs of impending death which you knew of course, but it was still quite surprising to watch unfold in real time. You’d tried to sew it back together but nothing worked, so alas, Gojo picked up the sobbing Megumi and the three of you set out to acquire a new stuffie.

Spotting the decor section, Gojo gently pulled Megumi from his seat before setting him down, ruffling his hair, an incredulous scoff leaving him at the boy’s irritated scowl. “Alright Megs, go pick one out,” you said softly, bending to pat his back, urging him forward, his expression going blank before a toothy grin pulled at his lips, eyes almost bugging out of his head at the sight of the shelves worth of stuffed animals, the cutest squeal spilling from his mouth before he darted toward the colorful display.

“Which one do you think he’s gonna pick?” Gojo said with a grin plastered to his face, both of your gazes glued to Megumi’s excited actions of grabbing a stuffed animal, testing its “quality”, and then putting it back, the cycle continuing through every animal present. “Mmm.. the panda,” you said lightly, turning away from Megumi to look up at your man, his beautiful eyes finally visible as his glasses rested on his nose. He was watching little ‘gumi, not realizing the way you admired him. “I think he’s a shark boy”, Gojo said, head tilting to you, eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips before that familiar smirk landed on his face.

“No. I know that look Satoru and I’m not doing it,” looking away from his troublesome expression, you returned to pushing the cart along the dimly lit aisle, examining some oddly shaped sculptures as you felt that warm presence looming behind you, strong arms snaking around your waist before his chin rested on your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

He knew how much you hated pda, (even though there wasn’t a soul in sight) it was his way of coercing you into agreeing to his wish. “C’mon, I promise I won’t bleed you dry this time,” he practically purred in your ear, his pretty voice almost lolling you to sleep. Relaxing in his hold, you considered his proposition, an idea popping into your head, one that would for sure make him regret ever asking. “Alright, fine. I bet 200 he picks the panda.”

At your words, Gojo’s eyebrows shot up, mouth slightly falling open at the fact that you actually agreed to gamble with him, and that that was the highest amount you had ever offered to wager. “Confident today, huh?” he quipped before clasping your hand in his own, shaking it as his eyes narrowed, that grin making an appearance again, “200 it is.”

Tsking, you shook your head, about to dig into Satoru some more to be careful when going against you but a tiny grunt interrupted, the two of you turning to see a huge brown bear being held up by two little arms, black hair peeking out from behind the massive stuffed animal as Megumi hauled the thing to your feet.

“Sweetie..” you laughed under your breath, crouching to brush away the hair from his face, “You don’t want a different one? A.. smaller one?” Megumi’s big eyes stared into your own, shaking his head at your offer, “I want him,” he giggled, hugging the bear closer. You looked to Gojo for help before he bent to pick up the giant thing, depositing it into the cart, doing the same to Megumi. “He’s a perfect choice, baby,” you smiled, kissing his cheek as he tried to grab below him to feel his new fluffy friend, the three of you setting off to finish at the front.

“Pay up, handsome” you smiled, your hand nudging Gojo’s chest as he looked down at you, eyes flitting to your open palm which rested in front of him as the two of you walked. Laughing to himself, his eyes narrowed teasingly, “We were both wrong, dummy,” he flicked your forehead, continuing to push the cart until your arm wrapped around his own, stopping his strides completely.

“A panda is a type of bear, dummy, which he chose, so pay up,” you said again, his features blanking as you just curled your fingers in a ‘give me’ motion. Surprised by your boldness, he let out an exasperated laugh, begrudgingly pulling his wallet out, fingers tightening around the two, crisp 100 dollar bills as he sighed, shoving them into your palm and grumbling at your coy expression, his tongue pushing against his cheek to prevent a smile from pulling at his lips, shaking his head as you just simpered a ‘thanks’ and took up the cart to keep walking, 200 dollars richer with a happy little boy in tow.

—————————————————————————

[bussyyeukie]

Neon Lights and Bloody Fights

(fighter!simon x reader)

part one. part two.

Your head hurt. Like, hurt.

A throbbing rolling behind your forehead for the better part of 4 hours.

Unable to sleep, barely able to find the taste in anything you ate. You sat on your couch, leaned back and legs spread as you held the remote in your hand, eyes staring unfocused at whatever the fuck was on the old screen of the TV.

A sandwich with one bite taken out of it sat on the coffee table in front of you, next to the barely drunk cup of coffee. The drip that had spilled down the side dried, cutting a line down Snoopy's head.

Your shirt big on your frame, and your shorts had ridden up slightly, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Your hair was unbrushed and thrown into a claw clip that had actually started to sag, not exactly doing its job since you had to keep tucking hair behind your ears. Lips bitten raw, the bags under your eyes prominent as you stared blankly at the screen. You weren’t even sure if you had muted it or if you just weren’t listening.

It had been two days.

Since the fight. Since the bet. Since your newfound job with (if you had to guess) criminals.

Two days.

Mr. Price (or John, as he insisted you called him) said to expect a call from him within the week to discuss a meeting about your new position. You had offered him your number but he said it was no need, they already had it.

Your phone was sitting on the cushion next to you. It was a flip phone, nothing too fancy even in that department. Looked like something a dad who only wore cargo shorts would own. Your gaze would wander to it every few minutes, wondering when it would ring. Your feet rubbed against the carpet under them, socks gliding smoothly.

For the weather outside, it wasn’t too cold in your little apartment. But you pride yourself on keeping it cozy.

There were maybe two boxes by your front door. Poorly taped shut.

They were your ex-boyfriends. Well, it was stuff you were debating giving back to him. Not that he wasn’t around to collect it, the fucker’d been loitering outside your work and calling you nonstop to the point where he was using his friends' phones after you blocked him. Which, you didn’t mind blocking them either cause they weren’t exactly your friends, and you didn’t exactly like them.

You were beyond thankful you two didn’t live together. Suddenly grateful he had denied the offer 6 months ago, which you’re pretty positive is because he was cheating on you. But at the time you didn’t want to admit that. 

Letting your head fall back against the couch, huffing out your nose, you thought back to that night.

You haven't seen your ex the rest of the night. Only the next day when you went to his house to collect your things. Honestly you almost forgot why you had gone when you saw his face, it looked like one big mash of black and blue. Both eyes nearly swollen shut, a bandaged gash on his eyebrow, and on his cheek under his eye. A pretty busted lip, a swollen nose, his jaw even looked swollen. He was almost scared to see you, kept looking over your shoulder and flinching.

He had let you in, bracing the whole time like you were going to hit him. Which, admittedly you were going to until you saw the number that Simon and the other guy had done on him.

…Simon.

You glanced back to your phone, then to the ceiling again.

Subconsciously narrowing your eyes, you thought about the hulking man.

The way his shoulders heaved as his breath huffed into the air in front of him. Stance tall and head bent down, shoulders rounded with fists clenched. Blood coloring in the black and white tattoos drinking up the expense of his arm. Sweat dripping from his nose and splashing onto the ground in front of him. He turned to you and his face–

Blank.

“Right,” you sighed, rubbing your face and trailing your hands up to your hair, “he’s faceless…”

He was strange, the opposite of what you’d expected the man to act like. You almost wished he’d just been some cocky asshole so it didn’t confuse you as much.

Something loud happened on the TV that made you jump and look forward. Hair nearly all fallen from the sloppy excuse for an updo. A breath escaped you, jumping again as your phone rang.

The silly, bubbly song falling from the rough speakers–your friend had changed it years ago and you had no clue how to change it, so you were stuck with some preppy pop song–buzzing erratically on the cushion. Your heart was beating out of your chest, stomach turning, face burning red. You watched it buzz for a second. The brief thought of not answering shot through your mind, but you decided against it. There was no way they’d just give up after one call. An unrecognized number on the dingy yellow screen.

Your throat was dry so it didn’t do much good. Swallowing, you grabbed the phone and flipped it open, hesitantly holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

Your voice was a little scratchy, but nervously high as it echoed back to you. 

“Ah hello!” the voice on the other end was deep, rough as it struggled through your speakers, “Beautiful mornin’ init?”

You shrugged, “Um, I’m sure it is Sir.”

You hadn’t left your house this morning. It was only about 11 anyway, so it’s not like you were shut in all day.

“Ach what’d I tell ya’ about tha’, John is just fine missy,” a chuckling rang between his words, and the grin on his face was evident through the words.

“Right sir–uh John,” you put a hand to your face, pinching between your brows, “John.”

He chuckled again, deep from his belly, “Don’t worry abou' it, darlin', expect ya' know what this call’ll be abou'?”

You nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and felt your cheeks flush, “Yes. T-the job right?”

“Indeed,” there was some shuffling on the other side of the phone, “Meet me at 2 today, I’d like ta' speak abou' this in person, face-ta-face, ya' know, not’a mention there’s someone I wan' you ta' meet!”

Licking your lips you paused your show, a rock on your stomach, “Um, are you sure? I really, I’m not sure if today would work best, I have some things to drop…off, and–”

“No,” the word was so solid, even through the crummy speaker you shut your mouth, “You’ll be 'ere at 2:00pm, dress yerself up proper, an' bring a notepad or some'tin to write on.”

With your elbow on your knee and your head in your hand, staring at the floor under you, nodding, you answered, “O-of course, I’ll see you at 2:00. Where would–where would you like to meet?”

"I’ll send you the address, we’re all very excited to welcome ya' to the team, 'eard some good things,” you heard the door open on the other side of the door, perking up slightly, listening in. You couldn’t hear what the other man had said, but Price sighed, “Gonna 'ave'ta cut our lil' convo short, I expect to see you at 2:00 sharp.”

With that the phone was hung up, your tongue fat and choking in your mouth. You threw your phone down, annoyed. With everything, the whole stupid situation. You should just call the cops. The idea seemed bright in your head for two seconds before it fizzled out.

“No…” you sighed and looked to the clock, 11:50, “That would be dumb…”

Pushing yourself up off the couch you rubbed your face and stretched your back. You hadn’t slept well last night, or the night before. In fact you hadn’t slept the night of the fight, so you weren’t running on too much at the moment. Shuffling your way down the hall to your bedroom, you looked through your closet. Thankful at least that you had some respectable clothing due to your job, throwing a pair of gray pleated slacks and a button up on the bed.. For a moment you wondered if Price would prefer if you wore a skirt. Then you scoffed at yourself.

Wandering to your bathroom, you started a shower, the water creaking to life through your pipes. Typically you’d throw on some music, but for some reason it felt out of place. Like you were supposed to be in silence, in mourning. The water was the only sound in the house.

Your mind wandered back to Simon, surely you’d be seeing him today. 

You thought back to him standing on the mat in the ring, hands practically grasping the metal cage in front of him, shadowed and standing like a titan in front of you. Shorts tight on his thighs, markings decorating his skin, color blossoming on his body. Muscles taut and rippling under his skin.

His face completely darkened, shadowed and black to your vision.

Sticking a hand under the water, you let it sit there for a second, the warmth engulfing it as you yawned. The door to your bathroom opened, it tended to get overrun with steam when you showered. Looking out into your bedroom, and to the clothes laying out on your bed. 

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. It sounded like some…shitty story you’d read on tumblr or something. Your boyfriend bets money he doesn’t have on an underground fight and loses, and now you have to work for the big fighters. What a joke.

You looked to your sink, pursing your lips at the potted plant that sat in it. You reached over and turned on the faucet, letting the pot fill to the brim, then turning it off, poking some holes in the first with your finger, watching the thirsty plant drink up the water.

Taking your hair down you sighed, and started to take off your clothes.

The shower passed quickly. Washing your hair, putting products in, and blow drying it in almost a trance. Standing with your arms crossed in front of your bed, staring at those clothes, skin soft with lotion and goosebumped from standing in the non-steamy air in just underwear and a bra. Lips scrunched and pouted. 

“Just put the damn clothes on,” you muttered, shaking your hair out, “You’re being a baby about this…”

You felt cheated, almost like you’re taking on someone else's punishment. The image of your ex’s face flashing through your head made you freeze up, brows raising a bit. He would probably have a TBI from the way those men–Simon, the name rolled through your head like a tumbleweed again–had dealt with him.

You didn’t want a TBI.

Quickly getting dressed, you tucked the creamy pinstriped button up into the slacks that were a little long while barefoot, you had bought them for heels, and buttoned it to the top, not tight enough on your neck that it left you clawing at it an hour into the day. Huffing dramatically you smacked your bed, looking to the clock. 1:20. 

Feet padding against the hardwood of the hall, leaning over the back of your couch to snatch up your phone. The screen reading one notification, you flipped it open, seeing the address that was sent.

You knew what street it was, about 20 minutes from your house, not too far of a drive. The office was at least a 30 minute drive, though it usually turned into 50 due to traffic and your car needed 10 minutes to heat up or it would crap out at a stop light.

You were relieved that the address wasn’t in the middle of one of the crappier areas. Not that the street was high end, but it wasn’t known for the drug corners or stabbings.

Hurrying to the bathroom, you threw your hair up, a little nicer than earlier, pulling parts of the front out by your ears and around your face. You debated makeup for a second, then decided a little wouldn’t hurt. Rubbing the lipstick onto your lips, nothing shocking, you honestly didn’t want to stick out at all, and bright red lipstick might not have helped that goal.

You grabbed a sweater, a dark piece with a wide square neckline. Stopping just below the waistline of the slacks, Belt sleek under it, you hated when a belt was bulky and obvious under a shirt or a sweater. It made your skin crawl.

You snapped your fingers, “Fuck right, a notepad…”

Looking around your apartment, you grew frantic, not finding anything. 

“How the fuck do I not have a notepad,” messing around in your bedside drawer, you found a thin brown notepad, the kind you flipped open, it was pretty much blank, save for a grocery list on the first page, but you can rip that out later. A pen clipped to it already.

Gazing at the clock, you groaned, 1:30.

Stopping by the door, you grabbed a pair of heeled boots, only about three inches, and not big boots. In fact you weren’t sure they were boots, you’d just always called them that. They might have just been regular shoes. Grabbing a bag, your wallet and phone in your hand, you paused at the door, hand gripping the handle. The metal cool under your touch.

Debating again, if you just ignored them…

Ryans face popped into your head. Broken bones, TBI…right.

With that you jerked open the door. The old thing creaking on its hinges.

The radio played in your car. Nearly silent with how low you had it. It wasn’t very cold out, slightly on the chilly side but there were plenty of people in shorts and t-shirts. 

But you’d also seen people in shorts and t-shirts in snow, so it didn’t really mean all that much.

You’d been sitting in the parking lot for 5 minutes already. You have 5 minutes to walk to the door. You’d driven past it, it was two stores down. You felt a little silly expecting it to be some super obviously sketchy place. But it was just a gym, a boxing gym. The sign was pretty nice, reading 141 with neon lighting around it. It wasn’t crazy fancy, it looked like one of those old school places. 

Your head hit the headrest, you turned off your car, and stepped out, keys clutched in your hand, squinting into the light. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

With a sigh, you rubbed your eyebrows, checking your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired, but not bad. Your lips had regained some moisture since this morning, hopefully you wouldn’t pick at them too much.

Checking the time you sighed, locking your car and quickly jogging to the street, making your way over to the building. Stopping in front of it and swallowing the spit stuck in the back of your throat. There was a big glass door on the wall, pushing it open, a bell dinged, as you tentatively walked in.

There was a front desk, and it led into a very open gym with a boxing ring in the back. Lots of punching bags littered around and some other equipment you didn’t quite understand.

There wasn’t anyone by the front desk. But there were people in the ring, and people in the gym, even though the number was low–two people in the ring and what looked to be a coach there as well. 

You took a few more steps inside, before a loud voice made you tense up.

“Aye, looky ‘ere,” a boisterous Scottish voice rang through the gym, looking to your side you spotted a tall man with a choppily cut mohawk strolling up to you, a bright pink cast on his wrist, almost to his elbow. Lots of signatures of drawings on it. Mostly dicks, the closer he got the more you could see. He was smiling wide and sweating, large basketball shorts and a tank top on. The tank top almost soaked through, sticking to his chest.

The gym reeked of sweat, and cheap cologne.

“Class, lookin’ bonnie ye are,” he stopped just about in front of you, hands on his hips and looked you up and down, “Whit are ye daein' in a place like this?”

You grinned at him nervously, almost looking like you were in pain.

“Um, Price?” you said, clearing your throat, “I have a job interview with Price–John…”

“Oh,” the man perked up, then got a little red in the face, “Sorry, lass, didnae realise ye were that bonnie thing, though it wis jist ma lucky day.”

Chuckling a bit you nodded, “Yeah, I, I think I'm actually late?”

You looked around for a clock.

“Late?”

“I was supposed to meet him at 2:00?”

He scoffed and waved you off, “Nah, he’s late, dinnae worry, come wi’ me, I’ll introduce ye tae the boys till he wraps up whit he wis daein’.”

He hooked an arm around your shoulder, stuffing you in his armpit, which reeked of sweat and strong deodorant. You nearly stumbled as he walked forward, grabbing his arm and trying to pull your head away.

“W-what–ugh, please–” you attempted to free yourself, but that man was strong, and his arms locked up, “At least away from the armpit–”

“You’ll like the boys,” he didn’t seem to have heard what you said, leading you to the back of the gym, around the corner to a more secluded looking boxing ring. Where two men were boxing, “They’re reeaall nice, especially tae the bonnie ones! Haha–real jokers those–”

The sweaty man was rambling about something, but your feet felt like lead as you spotted who was fighting.

Solid hits ringing out into the gym. Both in head padding, and gloves.

You spotted the large man in black shorts, tight on his thighs, hulking figure basking in the overhead light, beautiful ink splattered up his arm, his skin flushed as he moved, shirtless and glowy. Heavy grunts coming from the ring, solid punches landing.

Your feet felt heavy, almost stumbling a bit as the man dragged you closer.

Simon's muscles rippled under his skin as he threw punches, dodging, and light on his feet. Fully focused. Sweat dripped from him, splashing onto the mat under him. The man he was fighting in orange shorts, and a white boxing mask. It was the black man from the fight, you could see his face better through the mask. Eye still a bit bruised, but looking good, his shirt was tight on his body, like a compression shirt gym guys wear. He was much leaner than Simon, you noticed, but he still filled out the shirt.

“Boys!” the scots voice snapped you out of whatever thought process you were in, making you jolt a bit.

The two groaned and slowed down their hits, almost ignoring him.

“Look who I got!”

The pretty boy glanced over and smiled, signalling to Simon to stop, motioning to you with his head. Simon had his back turned to you, shoulders dropping in an irritated state as he turned.

His shoulders rising back up and his muscles tensing, his eyes widening, pink in his cheeks and forehead. He snapped his gaze to the man next to you, brows pinching.

“Oh hey!” voice muffled, the black man chuckled, pulling his head gear off and pulled out his mouth guard. You cringed as spit stuck to it, splattering a bit as he shook it off. He walked over to you two, past Simon–jabbing him in the gut as he passed. Simon grunted and muttered something under his breath, pulling his gloves off, “How ya’ been!”

You gulped, offering a nervous smile, “Um, pretty good…”

The man holding you chuckled, clapping you on the back, relaxing his grip so he wasn’t pulling you into his armpit as much, allowing you to stand to full height. Tucking some hair behind your ear you glanced at the man next to you then to the men in the ring. The pretty man was leaning against the ropes, removing his gloves, turning to say something to Simon. Who was still lingering back, meticulously removing his gloves.

Simon looked at him from under his eyebrows, then to you and the sweaty man.

“Ach, come on, Ghost, be a pal,” the man next to you bellowed, looking down to you, "He’s a wee bit shy, dinnae mind him."

You nodded, “O-ok.”

Your hair was a little ruffled, and your collar was popped on one side now, you didn’t notice Simon watching you.

“I’m Kyle by the way,” the black man held out his hand, as if for a hand shake, the man behind you nudged you forward, your heels clicking on the cement flooring. You smiled and reached up, shaking his hand, “Or Gaz, whichever you prefer.”

“Nice to officially meet you,” you felt incredibly out of place.

The man behind you snapped his fingers, you looked at him curiously, "Ah'm Johnny. Dinnae tell ye earlier, did ah?"

You shook his hand as well. Both men had strong grips, you’d wiped your hand on your pants after Kyle’s handshake, his hand sweaty from the glove. Made your skin crawl a bit as a matter of fact.

Simon walked up next, not leaning on the ropes like Kyle, his gloves and helmet off.

His hair was damp with sweat, cut short and even around his head, curling and waving slightly in places, stuck to his forehead and around his ears. A long scar running up his chin, and one disrupting his peachy lips, making the top lip curl slightly. Another smaller one on the side of his nose, which was strong and defined. Definitely having been broken before, a white scar splitting one of his eyebrows. His jaw was sharp and set, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. The stubble on his chin gone. You were right the night of the fight, his left eye was a bit swollen, a dark ring encompassing it, making his eyes look even more sunken.

Johnny grabbed your shoulder, snapping you out of your staring at Simon. Your face flushing as you realized you were in fact staring. Hoping it wasn’t for too long.

“Tha’s Simon, ah’m sure you knew tha’ though,” he giggled, Simon grunted.

“Yeah I introduce myself,” the words were a bit sharp, and Johnny waved him off.

“I do too!” he retaliated. Putting his hands on his hips.

Simon rolled his eyes and Kyle chuckled.

“Um,” you felt awkward interrupting them, feeling like an outsider, “Do, you know when Mr. Price is going to be back?”

You looked between them all nervously, Simon had his arms crossed in a broad stance, Kyle looked infinitely more relaxed. They both looked to each other and shrugged.

“Hell if I know, he went out to go talk ta’ someone but wouldn’t tell us who,” Kyle said, thinking for a moment, “I hope he brings back food.”

Johnny perked up, “Aye! I’m starved I tell ya’.”

Simon nodded, his gaze still locked on you. It felt more intense without the mask. Like he was sinking his brute hands into you, squeezing through you like wet clay, pushing their way to the center. Boring into you.

You straightened your sweater slightly, “He just left?”

The three nodded. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, checking the time.

2:15.

A snort of laughter rang out. You looked up, expecting something funny. Only to see the three men looking at you.

“What?”

“Wha’ is that?” Kyle pointed to your phone. With a confused look you held it up, “Yeah lass, tha’.”

“My phone?” you looked at it, sure it's a little old but what was wrong with it.

“Thangs a right relic,” Johnny cupped your hand that was holding it, pulling it closer. His hand was warm as it held yours, your brows pinching together as you looked at him.

Missing the way Simon’s lips pressed tight and his scowl grew.

“It’s not that old, come on,” you argued. Looking at the other two, pulling it back to yourself, Putting it away in your pocket.

Kyle grimaced, clicking his tongue, “I don’t know, it’s pretty old…”

You looked to Simon, seeking some sort of…anything as far as support.

He shrugged, a beat of silence, “Things're pretty old, almost as old as Price.”

A ring of laughter echoed through the part of the gym, Johnny clapping his thigh. You smiled as well, giggling to yourself. Simon’s smile was handsome, his teeth surprisingly straight (not perfect but better than you were expecting really), and his lip curled a little funny due to the scaring.

“Wot’s so funny?” a rough voice rang through the gym. You felt your heart jump and you looked back, Johnny doing the same. 

Price was walking up to everyone. Wearing jeans that were worn on his thighs and a tight button up that was rolled up to his elbows, sloppily tucked into his jeans. A tired look on his face and what looked to be an overstuffed planner in his hand. Rings decorating his meaty fingers.

His hair was tousled and shoes clicked on the cement.

“Simon here was just sayin’–”

A thick hand slapped itself onto Kyle's mouth, your eyes widening and a fought down smile making their way onto your face. Simon’s brows pinched tight as he sent a mean look to the pretty man. Whose face was smashed in Simon’s hold.

“Nothin’, sir, mindless chatter,” Johnny grinned.

Price scoffed and put his free hand into his pocket.

“I see you’ve met Johnny,” he gestured with the planner in hand. Eyes crinkling into a soft smile.

“Um, y-yes!” you grinned, holding your hands behind your back.

Price continued walking till he was close to the four of you, glancing up behind your shoulder–to Simon and Kyle presumably.

“Everyone introduce themself?” he looked at you, “Been civil wit’ ya’?”

You nodded, “Yes Mr. Price, everyone’s been kind.”

Johnny clapped you on the back, startling you and jolting your body forward a bit, “See, Cap, she's fine, nae need to worry yer little heid.”

Kyle scoffed, and you swore you heard Simon grumbling behind you. Price shook his head and he walked up, putting a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“You ready for that meetin’ darling?” 

He smelled like strong cologne, ushering you with him, guiding you away from the three men by the ring.

“Yes, I believe so,” you glanced back at them as Price moved his hand to your back, pushing you forward with them. Your eyes meeting Simons, his brown eyes lighting up, his cheeks pink as he huffed. His eyes darting down to Price’s hand then back up to your face, Johnny facing him, saying something you couldn’t quite hear. Simon swung at him.

You looked back at Price who was looking ahead.

He led you both to a door, and inside was an office. Nothing fancy, carpeting, a set of four lockers in the corner, a door in the back that looked a bit more heavy duty than the one you two walked in. A metal desk against the wall with a (dying) potted plant by it, an old looking chair and a little coffee table. A coat rack with jackets and hats on it, and a water cooler in the corner.

It smelled like smoke and old air freshener. 

Price walked up his desk, leaning against it with a heavy sigh, gesturing for you to sit in the chair in front.

“Sit, please, can’t imagine those are comfortable,” he chuckled.

You looked to the chair and sat down, placing your bag at your feet. 

“Thank you–they, they aren’t that bad really, I’m used to wearing them at my job…”

Price perked up like he’d suddenly remembered something, “Yes, you’ll ‘ave to put in your two weeks.”

You blanked, puzzled, “I’m sorry?”

“You won’t 'ave the time to juggle this job an' that one, especially if it's a 9-to-5 gig. You'll be workin' a lot to pay off that debt,” Price rubbed the back of his head, and moved around his desk to sit in the groaning chair.

“I–” you looked at him, “I, can’t quit. I, I need the money sir, I don’t be able to pay rent or my-my car payment, I need to buy food and pay my insurance and–”

Price waved you off, “No worries, hun, we’ll take care of all that. Can’t 'ave our new assistant on the streets hungry, can we?”

You swallowed, “N-no I suppose not…I’ll be paying off that debt I accumulate as well I assume?”

Price laughed, crossing his arms on his desk, “Reckon Simon’d 'ave my 'ead for that!”

You tilted your head, confused, “Why?”

The man waved you off, “He’s a sweet man, wouldn’t stand for indentured servitude, I’m afraid.”

Nodding, you glanced down to your lap, where your hands were clasped tightly, licking your lips nervously.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“What do you think of them?”

Looking up, you met Price's gaze, his hands folded under his chin. Eyes steady on your own.

“Who?” you paused for a second before pinching your brows together, a little embarrassed, “Oh–yes, them. They are all very nice, and they’ve been very sweet to me…I…”

You rubbed the back of your head, debating if you should bring it up, “I saw what they did to Ryan…probably would’ve done it myself if they hadn’t.”

Price laughed, deep from his belly, spooking you a bit, suddenly embarrassed.

“You should be thankin' Simon for that, 'ad to drag the man off the poor sap!”

Price rubbed his beard and shook his head.

“Oh,” you don’t know why your stomach flipped the way it did, or why your cheeks heated up, “I should thank him sometime.”

“Don’t worry about it, 'e was more than 'appy to do it, darlin',” he rolled back, jerking the top desk of his drawer open. You sat in silence, unsure how to respond to that. Simon sure was weird.

He pulled out a thick manilla envelope full of papers, nearly an inch thick.

He grunted as he placed it onto the desk smiling to himself as he pushed it towards you. The drawer closing with a startling rattle of the desk.

“I’m goin' to need you to fill these papers out and read through 'em by the end of next week, but good news is that’s all the paperwork you’ll 'ave to do for the hirin', mostly just liability stuff an' certain NDA’s,” he explained, you stared at the papers and nodded along, the feeling of your guts tying up. This was a real, dangerous thing. Not just a job interview, this was you tying yourself up with dangerous people.

Blood. Hardened knuckles. Scarred faces. Strong muscles.

You grabbed the folder, holding it in your lap, “Thank you, I’ll make sure it’s done.”

Price nodded, “Just turn it in 'ere when you’re finished. Gimme a call an' I’ll make sure someone’s 'ere to unlock the room for you.”

“Yes Mr. Price,” you gripped the folder.

“So formal,” he muttered, leaning back into his chair, “I’m just goin' to chat with you for a bit, ask a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Yes sir, that’s no problem,” you smiled sweetly at him. 

He paused for a moment, looking at you, “How long you an' your boyfriend been datin'?”

You gulped, shuffling, “Um, it was just over 2 years…”

“Was?”

“I broke up with him,” you looked to the side, then back to the smiling man, looking very pleased with himself.

“Good! He was a lowlife anyway,” he crossed his arms, “Glad 'e won’t be draggin' you down anymore, you don’t deserve that.”

You blinked, “Th-thank you…”

He spoke like you two were familiar with each other. It was strange.

“Not to sound rude, but, you kind of sound like,” you paused, “Like you know me? I think I’d remember if we’d met before.”

Price laughed again, softer this time, “No, we haven’t met before, don’t worry, but your ex-boyfriend spoke about you a lot, all good things for the most part. Even when 'e didn’t mean 'em to be, they cast you in a good light.”

You scoffed, looking away, of course he would talk shit about you. What did you really expect?

Price’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, “Don’t pay it much mind. Look at 'im now–ah! Don’t worry about fairness, we’ll be visitin' 'im every now an' then to make sure 'e’s been behavin'.”

You nodded, not exactly put off by the idea, “Sounds like something Simon would jump on.”

“See you’re learning already!” he leaned over the desk and clapped your shoulder, jostling you, “You’ll get on fine, won’t be too challengin' of a job.”

You shifted in your seat, it was stuffy in the room, and it was growing hot. Unsure if it actually was or if you were just nervous–very possibly both.

“What would the job be, exactly?”

“Mostly just runnin' errands, keepin' medical papers in check, watchin' over the boys–make sure they don’t get into too much trouble, ya know–keep fight schedules in order, make sure the boys know what that is,” he thought for a moment, muttering to himself, “Ah–you’ll be accompanyin' me to meetin's an' 'elp a little with the tension between some of the fighters… they usually take information better from a pretty thing rather than a grumpy old man.”

You nodded, it was different from your other job, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ll just be his personal assistant pretty much.

“As you know Soap’s injured at the moment and –”

“Soap?” you felt your skin clam up when he shot you a look, realizing you’d interrupted him.

“Did he not–” with a sigh he explained, “Johnny is Soap, the loud scott out there, handsy one.”

You nodded, “Oh, sorry Mr. Price, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He scoffed, waving his hand, “Don’t worry, those boys interrupt more than anyone I know. Get out a paper an' I’ll tell you their 'code' names.”

You rummaged around your bag, pulling out the brown pad and pen, opening it, looking at the large man.

“Soap, is Johnny MacTavish, Ghost would be Simon Riley, Gaz would be Kyle Garrick,” he paused, “I’ll send you a list of some of the other fights from other rings, they fight 'ere occasionally an' vice versa, you’ll need to know that as well. When in the ring, you are only to use those code names, for everyone's safety.”

“Yes sir,” closing the notepad, and placing it on top of the folder, which weighed heavy on your thighs. In fact your shoulders weighted down heavily as well, and your head, pulling at your neck.

Price clapped his hands together, “I believe that covers it for now, feel free to call if you’ve got any questions or anythin'. I’ll get you the boys' numbers as well, in case you need the muscle. Oh–and the ‘gym’ is open from 10:00am–11:00pm, I expect you to be 'ere at 8:00am, but I’ll let you know if that changes on the day.”

You clenched your teeth, he didn’t really expect you to work for over 12 hours did he. Everyday?

“Of course Mr. Price,” you nodded, forcing a sugary smile onto your lips.

“I’ll be payin’ you well, let's say $30 an hour?” he nodded to himself, “Yeah, you can do the math on 'ow long that’ll take you to pay off–probably good to mention that I’ll only pay for the 8 hour day, any time I keep you past that will just be your kind donation to the gym.”

He smiled, soft and sweet like he didn’t just tell you you’d be working for a few hours each day no pay, and you're just going to do it. Not like you could argue. You were already in this mess. 

Pressing our lips together, and then prying them open to flash teeth you nodded and made a noise in the back of your throat, “Yes sir. I’d be glad to.”

“"I’m sure the boys would appreciate it as well,” his chair groaned and creaked. It sounded like your bones were doing the same as you sat there. His gaze was sharp, even with the smile, it’s like he was looking at your thoughts, your inner workings.

Like he knew everything you were going to say before you said it–and he was waiting to get his witty reply out. Ready to bite at whatever managed to slither it’s way out from between your lips.

“You’ll start today, be 'ere for a few hours, learn the ropes,” he grinned wide, “I’m sure you’ll find it very fun, girly.”

Your heart sank.

(Word count: 6098)

tag list:

@msjaeger @jamdoughnuts

[beat-the-morning]

Stop hovering || Hozier x reader

Kinktober - Day 4: Facesitting

prompt list

Tags: facesitting, dom/sub undertones, nipple play

Summary: Andrew wants to try something new after you come back from a night out

Word count: 2k

A/N: I’m not doing tomorrow’s fic (breathplay) so don’t expect it. Will be doing the one for 6th but idk if I’ll get it done in time

||💙FIC UNDER CUT💙||

You looked at yourself in the full length mirror in the hallway, examining the state of your dress after a night out with your friends, a single lamp right in front of it as your only source of light. It was almost perfect, save for the wet patch at the top of it that had your drunk friend and their spilled drink to blame, somehow making you the one that smelled the most like alcohol despite being the designated driver for the night. You shrugged it off, telling yourself that you’d clean it up in the morning while you took it off and carried it with you in your arm as you went upstairs, you made your way to the bathroom to take your makeup off, finding the light on, shining from the crack at the bottom of the door and the sound of running water coming from inside.

“Andrew?” You knocked loudly on the door. You’d assumed that your boyfriend would be asleep by now, seeing as it was almost three in the morning, but the two of you lived alone in his house in the countryside, so it could only be him.

The sound of water stopped, you heard the sound of wet footsteps approaching the door and unlocking it. “Oh, hi baby.” He said with a smile, his hair damp, water droplets running down his chest and stomach, collecting at the towel he had wrapped around his lower waist. “I thought you’d come back later.”

“Why are you in the shower in the middle of the night?” You asked, taking in his flustered expression.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He said plainly.

“And you thought a shower would help?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled at your question, a sultry smile remaining on his face as he spoke. “But what I did before the shower usually does.”

You raised an eyebrow, breaking into soft laughter as you realised what he was implying. “And why didn’t you fall asleep after that, then?” You teased.

“I didn’t realise it’d shoot that far… got up to my chest hair and the tissues didn’t feel clean enough.” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the fact that he’d accidentally come on his own chest.

“If you’d waited a bit I could’ve helped and you wouldn’t have made a mess.”

“I didn’t know if you’d be drunk or not, and you know I don’t like to do things when you’re the only one that’s drunk.” He raised his hand from his waist where he was holding the towel and caressed your cheek, the sultry smile remaining. “You aren’t drunk though.”

“I’m not, I was the designated driver tonight.” You leaned into his touch, reaching out to pull him down to your level and kissing him lovingly.

“Lucky me, then.”

“Depends on what you’re thinking of doing.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, just get comfortable, I’ll be in our bed waiting for you.” He whispered, kissing you for a second before leaving to the bedroom.

You finally entered the bathroom, taking off your makeup, letting your hair free and quickly doing your quicker nighttime skincare routine since something was telling you that you’d be too exhausted to do it after whatever Andrew had planned for tonight. You freshened up, looking at yourself in the mirror and making sure you looked as cute as you could after a night out, then headed to your bedroom.

The space was dimly lit by the lamps at the bedside tables on each side of the bed, you looked around it, it was slightly messy with some clothes scattered on the floor, but you liked it, it was cozy. You spotted Andrew’s guitar on the floor next to his side of the bed, he must’ve brought it in here while you were out, since it wasn’t there when you left with your friends, his lyric notebook, old and practically bursting with the amount of extra pages he’d added on to it through the years, sat opened on the bedside table, words scribbled onto it that you couldn’t make out. Andrew was sitting on the bed dressed in just a pair of Calvin Klein boxers, looking at something in his phone, you finally stepped into the light from your lamp on your side of the bed, he smiled when he saw you out of the corner of his eye. He left his phone on top of his notebook, turning to look at you, eyes full of love and lust.

“There you are,” he said as you crawled over to him, pulling you into his arms the moment he could reach you.

“You’ve been writing something?” You asked, pointing towards the guitar with your eyes.

“Hm,” he smiled, “I have, yeah, I’ll show you when it’s a bit more polished.”

“Can’t wait.” You said sincerely, leaning in to kiss his lips.

He kissed back hungrily, throwing you onto your back on the mattress with a force that you had now become acquainted with, you giggled softly as you landed while his hands explored your body like it was his first time ever touching you. He lightly bit into your lip, asking for entrance, which you granted. You parted your lips, his tongue darting into your mouth in that same second, he completely dominated the kiss, and you let him, your hands tangled in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His hands reached behind your back, quickly undoing your bra and throwing it somewhere in the room, he played with your breasts, squeezing them as he pulled away from the kiss and moved to your neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all the way down to your chest. He pulled your right nipple into his mouth, making you gasp at the sensation, he sucked gently, licking and teasing as his hand played with your other one. After a while, he changed his attention to your left breast, giving it the same treatment as he did the other one. “Fuck! Andrew!” You moaned loudly, your hands still in his hair, pulling it ever so slightly without you realising. He smiled at your moans, pulling away after a second, leaving both your nipples incredibly sensitive.

“I wanna try something new today, baby,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed it. “Think you’d be up for it?”

“W-what is it?” You asked, your voice shaky with need.

“Can you sit on my face?” He asked, eyes dark with lust. “Please.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitated for a second, “what if I accidentally smother you or something?”

He kissed your collarbone, “won’t happen,” he assured you with a warm smile, “but if it does I’ll die a very, very happy man.”

“Andy!” You whined, trying to suppress a laugh, “I’m serious, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I’m not a porcelain doll, baby, I’ll be fine.” He peppered kisses over your neck, nuzzling his face into your skin. “Please?” He insisted.

Your resolve crumbled as you looked into his eyes, his pupils wide from arousal and his lips shining with his own saliva. “Okay,” you agreed softly. “But if you need me to stop, tap out or throw me off you or something, okay?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed your neck one last time before moving to lay on his back. “Take a seat.” He said, a smirk plastered on his face.

You playfully rolled your eyes, moving over to straddle his face, your pussy hovering just above his mouth, teasing him. You carefully lowered yourself onto him, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hand finding home on your hips. His tongue darted out, parting your folds just enough to make you whine, you lowered yourself a bit more, still not fully seated on his face. Then he started to lick, every movement of his tongue driving you wild, but still, you hovered over him. After a few more licks, Andrew had finally had enough of you not fully seating on him. “Stop fuckin’ hovering and sit!” He demanded, pulling you down onto his face, his nose hitting your clit and making you moan loudly. Andrew hummed contently, slowly shaking his head so as to bury himself further in you, rubbing your bundle of nerves with the tip of his nose in the process, his tongue darted out again, entering you. You moaned, louder this time, your hands moving to hold the headboard, he hummed again, taking a deep breath and savouring the feeling of you fully seated on his face.

He lightly smacked your ass, a silent order for you to move your hips and grind on his face, and, as always, you obey without question, slowly moving your hips until you find a comfortable flow, small moans and whimpers leaving your mouth as he licks and hums to your rhythm. You could feel him swallow your essence every so often, the noises coming from the both of you were obscene and loud, his hands snaked up your body, his left squeezed your breast roughly while his right reached to grab your hair, pulling it back and making the rest of your head follow, your face now looking up at the ceiling as you screamed in pleasure.

You felt the all-familiar twist of bliss in your abdomen, your hips becoming erratic in their movement as you neared your climax. You had never been talkative during sex, this was no exception, a delightful, as Andrew described it, combination of moans, whimpers and whines was all you could manage to utter in your euphoric state, with the occasional begging thrown in when Andrew would get too wild with edging or overstimulation, you had never minded, he was always talking anyway, even when eating you out he’d take a small pause sometimes to say something to you. But today he couldn’t speak, all the sounds, all the moans, were yours, he was in heaven, every noise coming from you like celestial music. He let go of your hair and breast, his hands moving to your hips again. You looked down at him, his eyes were closed in pure bliss as you moved your hips, his moans muffled by your body, you could see the slight shine of your arousal on his face every time your hips moved back slightly, he was angelic, you wondered if he thought the same of you when he fucked you.

He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, you could feel him smiling as he looked at you, he moved his tongue more, shaking his head and humming softly to bring you to climax, you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter as your moans became more high-pitched. Then it snapped, your hips twitching erratically as you came on his face. You moved until the wave of ecstasy subsided, your breathing shaky and irregular and your heart beating rapidly from the intensity of your orgasm. You moved your leg over his head once more, sitting back on the bed after being on his face for so long, he had a crooked smile on his face as he sat up and reached out to hold your face and kiss you once more.

You melted into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue as he gently guided you to lay down. Andrew pulled away from the kiss, laying next to you and holding you in his arms with your head on his chest. “D’you like that, baby?” He asked, his face buried in your hair as he took in your scent.

“Yeah,” you mumbled softly, already feeling the tiredness calling you to sleep.

“Good,” he kissed your head. “Go to sleep, darling, you’re exhausted.”

You hummed in response, your eyes already closed since you didn’t bother opening them after he kissed you. A sound similar to “goodnight” came from your lips, you were too tired to speak.

“Goodnight, my sweet.” Andrew whispered back, his fingers running along your hair, and softly lulling you to sleep. Your breathing evened, he smiled, following behind you not long after

[javiscigarette]

Old Dog, New Tricks

Sub!Joel Miller x f!Reader (no outbreak)

Request:

i have a little idea for story what if their role is reversed? I mean in all your story Joel is always dom, sooo maybe can you make reader dom and sub Joel?

Word Count: 7.0k omfgg

Warnings: Smut! NSFW 18+ no use of Y/N, this is 100% filth. no plot to be found. established relationship, sub!Joel (!!!) but still dom!Joel, subspace (reader not Joel lol), masturbation, making him beg for it, etc, etc. Look guys it's PWP idk what you want me to say

A/N: I started this fully intending for it to be a like less than 1k words and this is how it ended. There's not even a plot I have no idea what happened.

Joel doesn’t greet you when you enter the house. You call out his name, but there’s no response. 

While you set your stuff down on the kitchen table, you hear the sound of the shower running upstairs in your shared bathroom. Fully intending just to let him know you’re home early from work, you head up the stairs.

 You stroll down the hall just wondering what you’re gonna have for dinner tonight. You turn the corner and walk into the bedroom and you stop dead in your tracks. 

Joel had left the door cracked and the faint sound of muffled moans floated through the open door. Your heart immediately starts hammering in your chest, your core automatically tingling with excitement.

 You listen carefully to his soft moans and the groans and occasionally hear the slick sound of his hand pumping himself. The sounds send small jolts of electricity down your spine before turning into tingling heat in your lower abdomen. 

You debate whether or not to go in for a few moments but your feet carry you inside regardless once you hear the sound of his particularly loud choked out moan. Moving quietly, you slowly push the bathroom door open just enough to slip through. The room is steamy from the hot water, the smell of his body wash heavy in the air. 

He can’t see you through the shower curtain and of course he didn’t hear you come in, that man is as deaf as doornail. So you take a few seconds, a smirk slowly spreading across your face as you listen to the lewd sounds of his hand moving up and down his length as he tries to swallow his moans. You let him have his fun for just a few more seconds before you interrupt. 

“Joel?” you call out innocently. 

“Shit” Joel shouts. There’s the sound of a bottle falling with a thump against the tub and you have to suppress a giggle as you imagine what’s happening on the other side of the curtain. 

“Baby! You’re home early! I’ll be out in just a few minutes” Joel calls out much louder than necessary and you can hear the strain in his voice. 

You don’t say anything as you cross the room to the shower and pull back the curtain halfway. Joel jumps in surprise and quickly moves the hand he had wrapped around his cock and hides it behind his back like he just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. 

“Well don’t stop on my account” you taunt. 

Joel blinks at you, his big brown eyes working in tandem with his raised eyebrows to give you the sweetest puppy dog eyes. And you almost fall for it. How could you not with his body on full display for you like this? With his hair slicked back from the water, his chest flushed with red from the warm water and the orgasm he probably was less than a minute away from before you stopped him. He didn’t bother to even try to conceal himself, his thick cock, wet and shiny from the water bobbing in the air, his tip angry red. Your mouth is watering at the sight and you’re just barely strong enough to stop yourself from climbing in the tub and immediately take him in your mouth. 

“I didn’t know you’d be home early, sweetheart,” Joel says a bit breathless, his chest still heaving up and down with each deep breath. 

“I tried calling you” you reply plainly. “Now I see what you were so busy with”  

Joel laughs breathlessly as he still tries to process what’s going on. 

“Were you feeling needy, baby?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side. “Couldn’t wait for me to get home?” 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day” Joel says quietly. It’s true, he had today off but you still had to go in and he just spent the whole day waiting for you to come back. 

“Get in here, angel. Lemme show you how much I missed you.” 

You hum, unsatisfied with the proposition. And there must be something in the air or the stars just aligned perfectly or something that explains the flip that just switched inside of you. You just know that finding him like this, catching him red handed gave you the chance to take the upperhand. 

And you fucking run with it. 

“I don’t think so, baby” you say calmly. “I think I’d rather watch you touch yourself. Want to see you make yourself cum.” 

The smug look on Joel’s face is instantly replaced with his jaw dropping in shock. He laughs out loud at the ridiculous idea but it dies in his throat when you just stare back at him, dead serious.

“C’mon now,” Joel starts trying to bargain. “I’ll give it to you good, baby. Slow and deep, just how you like it.”

Your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing and you can feel your slick starting to leak out onto the cotton of your underwear. But you don’t back down, not with this rare chance to reverse the roles right now. 

“Do it, Joel. Or I won’t let you touch me for at least the next 24 hours”

Joel groans at that, an image from a couple weeks ago flashing in his head.You were sick of reminding him to pick his laundry up from the bathroom floor so you didn’t let him touch you at all until he had finished washing and folding all of his laundry. Joel respects your boundaries to the end and if you tell him not to touch you, he won’t. Even when he knows you’re doing it just to torture him. And you don’t make it any easier, walking around the house in his oversized t-shirts with no underwear or sprawling out in the middle of the bed and lazily touching yourself while all he can do is just gawk at you. 

He now stares at you dumbfounded while he decides what to do. He could probably climb out of the shower and wrap this hand around your throat instead, knowing you’d easily melt under his touch and forget about everything you said. But there’s no fun in that. 

“Okay, okay” Joel sighs. 

You stand there motionless and watch as he brings his hand up and wraps his fingers around his still fully hard cock. He twitches in his hand and inhales sharply at the sensation. 

A hot wave of arousal washes over you from the top of your scalp and trickling down to your toes. 

He starts to slowly work his hand up and down his length, his eyes never leaving yours. You try to stare right back and not at the rivulets of water running down his golden, freckled skin, skating down the outlines of the muscles in his arms and his shoulders.

 It would be no surprise if you looked down to find yourself soaking through your shorts. 

“D-does that feel good, baby?” you ask, a tremble breaking through at the beginning but you quickly recover. His mouth hangs open slightly and the corner of his mouth lifts up into a lopsided smirk. He definitely heard the tremble. 

“Would feel better if it was you” Joel pants, a poorly disguised attempt to get you to come join him. 

But you’re not the one on the edge of release. You can play with him a bit. 

“I bet it would. Now go faster, I don’t have all day” you say nonchalantly.

Joel sees the mischievous glint in your eye as soon as the idea pops into your head. He watches you with a bated breath, the nerves under his skin tingling with excitement. 

With your eyes glued to his, you reach for the hen of your tank top and slowly pull it up. Joel sighs heavily at the sight of the smooth skin of your stomach. It’s just the bare skin of your stomach and yet his tip pulses out a few beads of precum. 

You observe every minute movement that comes from him, your core throbbing when he bucks his hips forward into his fist and bites back a moan. He was already close when you interrupted and here’s nearly there now that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Angel,” Joel pants, looking over at you with pleading eyes letting you know he’s close. 

“Stop.”

Joel inhales through his clenched teeth and for a second you can’t tell if he’s going to listen to you or not, but he eventually takes his hand off his cock, hissing quietly at the cool air biting at his skin. 

“Get out and dry off.  I’ll be waiting on the bed” 

——

As soon as you step out of the bathroom, you slip out of the tank top you’re wearing and pull off your shorts and underwear off your legs. You practically run to the bed, hopping on the mattress and sprawling out in the middle of the bed.  

Joel walks out of the bathroom no more than 3 minutes later to find you naked, sprawled out in the middle of your shared bed with two fingers buried in cunt. 

“S’only fair” you giggle between soft moans when he appears in the doorway of the bedroom. 

He doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room until he’s standing at the side of the bed. You stare at each other, both of your hearts racing in anticipation about the other’s next move. 

“You can look, but no touching.” 

Joel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the tendons in his neck visibly flexing underneath his skin. You’re still expecting him to stop all of this and put you in your place. But he doesn’t. He tries to keep it cool on the outside. It’s very rare that you’re in control - you both love when Joel bosses you around and fucks you so hard until you can barely breathe. but seeing you like this, trying to control the situation is incredibly sexy and his cock already painfully hard. 

“Okay, baby” Joel sighs before moving to slip into the bed. You pause your movements and lean forward allowing him to slip in behind you until he’s sandwiched between the headboard and your back. He stretches his legs on the outside of yours, his strong thighs encasing yours. Keeping his touch innocent, he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight while still giving you enough room to keep going.

He scatters gentle kisses on your shoulder blade and the back of your neck, smiling against you when goosebumps prick up on your skin.You automatically lean back against him, enjoying the feeling of his big, heavy arms holding while he trails soft kisses all over your exposed skin. You can feel the heat radiating off of him too, his skin still warm from his shower. You feel his cock too, hard, heavy, and hot, pressing against your lower back. 

 All the other times that he’s been in this position with you it’s been his fingers knuckle deep inside of you while you squirm in his lap. And normally he’d be whispering filthy words in your ear that push you closer and closer to release. 

But he wants to let you have this, he rarely sees you this assertive in the bedroom and he can’t deny that it’s turning him the fuck on right now. Refraining from using any direct instructions, Joel hooks his chin over your shoulder so he can get a good look and innocently asks “Are you gonna keep going?” 

“Don’t rush me” you huff at his words, suddenly remembering your hand between your legs. “I’m the one in charge.” You try to sound calm and collected, but the desperation still clings to your every syllable. 

“I know, angel. I just wanna see you take the lead and boss me around like a good girl” Joel whispers against your neck. You swallow a small whine at his words that serve as a subtle reminder that he always has the upperhand, even when he lets you call the shots.

Unable to wait any longer, you slowly start rubbing your swollen clit with the pads of two fingers. Joel hums in delight.  With his face so close to yours, he can clearly hear all your little noises clear as day, the sweet sound of your quiet moans floating in his ear and traveling like a lit fuse down his spine. 

You gradually build up speed, the tight circles over your throbbing clit getting faster and faster. The sensation causes you to involuntarily roll your hips. Joel hisses quietly when you move and his cock twitches against your lower back at the slight friction,precum leaking from his tip and smearing against your soft skin. 

He watches you carefully as you slide your fingers down from your clit to your leaking hole. You gather your slick on your middle and forefinger before slowly pushing your fingers into your pulsing, wet heat.  A raspy moan bubbles up from his chest while your head falls backwards to rest on his shoulder while you slowly finger yourself.

He nudges his nose against your neck and hums as he lightly nips and sucks at the sensitive skin. A shiver courses down his spine and fog rolls over his head as he inhales the scent of your perfume, the one he picked out for you, and tastes your skin under his tongue. 

“Can hear it” Joel mumbles, his beard scratching lightly against your cheek as he talks. “Can hear how wet you are, angel.” 

He’s not exaggerating. The slick sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of your dripping hole are easy to hear in the otherwise quiet room. 

Quickly growing impatient, you push your fingers as far as they’ll go and curl them upwards. You let out a loud moan as your fingers press into your g-spot. Joel makes a nearly identical sound when you reflexively roll your hips again, trying to deepen the sensation. 

It feels good, good enough to pull a continuous string of quiet and desperate mewls out of you, but it’s not enough. You can’t touch yourself the way Joel touches you, can’t reach all the right places that he can, can’t make yourself shake like he can. There’s denying that. And Joel knows it too. 

“S’not enough is it, angel?” Joel whispers, suppressing another moan in his throat when you rock your hips again. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you? Stuff you full of my cock, huh?” 

You groan in frustration and Joel is lucky that you can’t see the smirk that creeps up on his face. You’re determined to stay strong and in control. Joel is right though. Your whole body is burning with the need to be touched properly, to be full to the brim with his thick cock. 

“Just give it up, baby. I’ll make you feel so good, you know I will” Joel murmurs into your neck as he tightens his arms around your waist even more. He doesn’t even want you to give up, but he knows his taunting will spur you on. 

Just as he expected, his suggestion ignites a fire in you, a fire reminding you that you’re supposed to be in control right now, not him. 

You reluctantly stop your fingers and pull your hand away before moving to sit up. Joel easily lets you out of his grip, his arms falling heavily to his sides. He watches you as you sit up on your knees and turn around to face him. You place one knee on either side of his hips effectively straddling him with your bare cunt inches away from his crotch. 

He’s quick to notice how you’re holding your hand up off to your side, your fingers wet and shiny with your arousal. His mouth waters at the sight of your wet fingers, his entire body burning with desire to taste you and touch you and make you cum.

And He’s not shy about it, not at all. You smirk as you look at him staring at your fingers, his jaw slack and his eyes dark and wide. The ball is back in your court. 

“You wanna taste, baby?” you taunt while bringing your hand closer to his face stopping when your fingers are inches from his lips. 

His eyes flit between yours and your fingers, your scent filling his head with fuzz. Without answering, he leans forward in an attempt to take your fingers in his mouth. But you fully anticipated him trying to do that and you're faster to move your hand out of reach. 

“Nuh-uh, baby. Use your words. Tell me what you want” you tease, using his own words, the exact phrases that he loves to tease you with, against him. 

He sits back and looks up at you through his eyelashes with his big doe eyes and for the first time tonight you can see his resolve starting to crumble. 

“Let me taste you, angel.” Joel tries. He starts to move his hand to your thigh but the glare you give him stops him in his tracks. 

“Stop telling me what to do” you say. Your own confidence sends a rush down your spine. In any other situation, you know he’d flip you over and spank you until your ass is bright red for talking to him like that. Joel huffs and his jaw clicks faintly as he grinds his teeth together. You can see him internally debating his next move, the power struggle clear in his eyes. 

Unbearably turned on right now and with nothing to lose, he gives in. 

“Please let me taste you, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all fuckin’ day, need to taste how needy your little pussy is for me” Joel begs with a hint of a whine. He bats his eyelashes at you for comedic effect as if to say I’m only doing this for you. 

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the grin that tugs on the corners of your mouth. 

Either way, it’s enough for you so you bring your fingers back to his lips. Too impatient to wait any longer, he leans forward to meet your hand in the middle, his lips wrapping tightly around his two fingers while his hand comes up to hold your wrist in place. 

Your core throbs when his eyes flutter shut and drops his head back against the head. He has a death grip on your wrist and his tongue is warm and wet as he eagerly licks your fingers clean. 

To say Joel loves the way you taste would be a severe understatement. He craves it. He’ll spend hours between your legs, drunk on your taste as he lazily licks and slurps you down, giving your orgasm after orgasm until you’re begging for him to stop. And even at that point, he still manages to pull one or two more out of you whispering “just one more, cum on my tongue just one more time for me, angel.” 

Joel opens his eyes when he suddenly feels a drop of warm liquid on the underside of his cock. He pulls your fingers out of his mouth with a soft pop and lets go of your wrist. He looks down to where you’re hovering over him and his self-control flies right out the window. 

“Oh fuck, angel” Joel moans, looking down at where you’re hovering inches above him. You’re so turned on right now that you’re dripping onto him, a thin stand of clear fluid connecting your weeping cunt to his aching cock. Joel has never needed anything more than to bury himself deep inside of you right fucking now. 

You look down too and hot liquid pools in your tummy. From day one, Joel has made your body do all sorts of new things you never knew you could do since you’ve known him. In fact, the first time you slept with him, he had you squirting, for the first time in your life, all over his fingers and his t-shirt that he hadn’t even had the chance to take off yet in less than 5 minutes. 

But this has never happened and Joel is ecstatic. 

He looks back at you then quickly grabs your hips and tries to bring you down into his lap, but you’re quick to tense your muscles and resist his pull. And Joel, so turned on right now and needy for you, doesn’t even bother suppressing his deep, throaty whine, the sound going straight to your core.

At this point, you need him so badly that you’re nearly dizzy with it. You’re not sure how either of you have held out for so long and you’re determined to see how long it lasts. 

With a devilish glint in your eye, you look back at him and give him a wicked smirk. 

“Beg for it.” 

And he does because at the end of the day, he’s going to give you anything you want. Absolutely anything. 

“Baby, please let me fill up that sweet cunt, I’ll be good just– please give it to me, I need it so bad, angel” Joel groans, not caring one bit about how needy he sounds. 

It makes you whimper, the sound of his begging, his voice whiny and strained as he pleads for your pussy. With no delay, you reach down and behind you. Joel grunts loudly at the feeling of your soft hand, fingers wet with his spit, wrapping around the base of his cock and holding him in place. It’s the first real touch you’ve given him all day. 

You lower yourself slowly, the two of you moaning in unison when his tip catches on the rim of your leaking hole.

“Stay still for me” you command, already sounding out of breath. 

A strained sound comes from Joel as he watches you start to slowly sink down, the thick of his head pushing into your burning hot, dripping wet heat. Joel is a hot mess underneath you. His chest is burning red, the color rising up to his neck and face as he holds his breath. You can feel fingertips digging into the skin of your hips, his grip so tight that you can see the veins in his neck and arms start to bulge out against his skin. His eyes are screwed shut and his jaw is clenched, a visible display of the amount of self-restraint it’s taking him to not rock his hips up and slam his cock the rest of the inside of you. But you take your time, relishing in the feeling of his thick cock sliding deeper and deeper, pulsing and twitching against your walls as he makes room for himself inside of you. 

“Good boy” you praise with a breathless whisper. You immediately feel his fingers dig even further into your hips as he lurches inside of you, your praise going straight to his cock. 

You keep his reaction tucked away to use again later. 

You sink down some more and get just a little over halfway before you have to take a break. You feel impossibly full, his cock already so deep inside you that you can feel him in your stomach and your walls tingling as they stretch to accommodate him. It doesn't necessarily hurt and you’re much wetter than necessary, but  you didn’t properly prepare yourself and the feeling of being so full already is overwhelming nonetheless. 

Joel sees you wince slightly and immediately asks “You okay, baby?” with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. You nod vigorously and take a deep breath before you start to move again, your walls fluttering around him as you take the rest of him. The sound of your combined low moans fill the otherwise quiet room when you finally sink down the rest of the way, seated on his hips with his cock fully sheathed inside of you. 

He’s so deep inside you, that you can barely breathe. Still, you give an experimental rock, gasping when you move forwards, his tip kissing your cervix and moaning when you push your hips backward, feeling him curve perfectly against your g-spot. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ” Joel groans, his face twisted like he’s in physical pain. 

You whine in response, a needy “Joel”  tumbling past your lips when he shifts slightly, sliding his cock just a centimeter further inside of you, getting so deep that can almost feel him in your throat. 

“M’right here, angel” Joel whispers as he starts smoothing his palms over your hips and thighs. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? Didn’t let me stretch you out properly on my fingers first, did you?”

You drop your gaze to the bed with a whine and shake your head. Joel sees you starting to lean into submission. You both knew that you’d give in as soon as he was inside you, but he’s not done yet. 

“Do you want to stop?” Joel asks, fully prepared to stop and take care of you if you said yes. But he knows you won’t. He smirks when you whip your head back up and look at him with wide eyes, panic evident on your face. 

“N-no” you whine. You start to rock your hips faster, proving to him that you can handle it. 

Joel groans when you start moving on top of him. His head falls backwards against the headboard, exposing his throat, the delicate skin damp with sweat. 

“Atta girl” Joel sighs, his hands rounding your hips and reaching behind you to palm at your ass. “You love it when I fill up and stretch your little pussy like this, don’t you, baby? Like feelin’ how big I am inside you?” 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you moan at his words. 

“Yes, sir. You’re so fucking big” you whine and Joel grins at how you automatically slip in the honorific. 

“Yeah, I know you do,” Joel says as he swats lightly at your ass. He doesn’t move otherwise, just sits there and lets you try to finish what you started. “Take what you need, babygirl. Get yourself off with my cock.” 

“My cock” you huff as you slowly press into your knees and lift your hips up about halfway up his length before slowly sliding back down, sighing when he’s fully inside again. Joel tosses his head back against the headboard again, fully believing that you’re actively trying to torture him. 

“S’right, angel. It’s all yours” Joel confirms with a strained grunt. All of me. All for you” 

His words make you whimper again, high-pitched and needy. Your brain feels like it’s melting as you try to process this dynamic right now, how Joel is letting you do this and playing along and but still lacing his words and actions with his dominance. 

He watches you carefully, reading your facial expressions as you drag your hips up halfway again. This time though, you let yourself drop back down. You let out a garbled sound, something between a gasp and moan when Joel’s tip slams back deep inside of you, bolts of electricity radiating out from your core to every square inch of your body. Joel hisses a “shit” at the sudden pressure followed by the feeling of your walls squeezing him tight. When you recover, you start to gradually build your pace until you’re bouncing steadily on his cock. 

“That’s my good girl” Joel praises, his eyes glued to your breast bouncing inches in front of his face. 

He can’t help but lean forward and wrap his arms around your middle. He starts placing hot, wet kisses to the tops of your breasts, his warm breath fans over your sensitive skin as he groans quietly between each sloppy kiss. He stops occasionally to suck or nibble and scatters little red marks on your skin, claiming you as his and his only. 

Your hands fly up to his head when he wraps his lips around your nipple and rolls his tongue languidly around the hardened nub. Your fingers immediately tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the soft, fluffy lock. Joel growls against you as the sensation runs from his scalp down his spine and all the way down to his toes. 

He tightens his hold on you and pulls you even closer, nearly suffocating himself with his face smushed against your chest as he messily bites and sucks and licks all over. 

You try to hold out for longer, you really do. But your moan takes the shape of his name again when he rolls his hips up as you drop yours down, punching his tip right into your g-spot. 

Joel barely takes his mouth before he starts talking 

“Just tell me what to do, angel. Let me be good for you” he says, his voice low and gritty before sucking your nipple back into his mouth. 

“Be a good boy and pound me into this fucking mattress” you moan, placing the last shred of control you had back into his hands. 

Joel growls as he immediately flips the two of you over so that he’s leaning over you, his forearms on either side of your head. He looks at you and gives you a warm smile so big it crinkles the corners of his eyes. 

“You’re so pretty, angel.” Joel says softly, the hunger and arousal in his voice replaced with sweet tenderness. Your whole body flushes at the simple compliment, heat rising from your chest and creeping up your neck then settling on the apples of your cheeks. 

He ducks his head down to kiss you, gently molding his lips to yours as if he wasn’t inside of you five seconds ago. 

There’s the quick realization that you haven’t properly kissed him yet and suddenly the need to lick into his mouth and taste him settles heavy in your bones. Trying to deepen the kiss, you lift your head up and run your tongue over his lower lip but that’s all he lets you do before he pulls back. You whimper in frustration, your head dropping back onto the pillows. 

Joel whispers a sweet “I love you” before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His words melt your heart in your chest until it’s just a puddle of burning in your chest. 

“I love you too, Joel” you whisper back, your voice cracking over the lump of emotions stuck in your throat. You just melt when he slows down for a minute and pushes his own needs and desires away, using any opportunity to just remind you of how much you mean to him. His affection always makes you feel warm and floaty and safe.

And he can’t stop himself from doing it. He’s so completely enamored with you, his sweet sweet girl that he just has to stop and appreciate you, especially when you’re about to let him fuck you stupid. 

“Roll over baby, put your cute little ass up in the air for me” Joel demands calmly, sitting back on his knees to give you enough room to move. 

Your thoughts are already slowing down like honey swirling around in your head so it takes a few extra seconds for you to process what he says. 

“You already feelin’ floaty, baby?” Joel asks with a slight laugh, watching you roll over at a leisurely pace with a lopsided grin on your face. “Thought you were the one in control.” 

“Still am,” you mumble unconvincingly as you press your cheek into the pillow and bend your knees underneath you until your ass is in the air on full display for him. Joel just chuckles quietly and stands on his knees between your legs.  

“Whatever you say, babydoll.” 

He grips your cheeks and spreads you open, groaning deep from his chest at the sight of your swollen pussy visibly clenching around nothing, your lips and the insides of your thighs shiny and wet. You whine at the cool air nipping at your burning heat, the sound morphing into a loud moan when he leans over and spits on your throbbing core. He watches intently as the warm liquid slides down your slit and mixes with the slick that’s already leaking out of you. He keeps one hand on you but wraps his other around himself and lines up with your hole. 

“M’gonna ruin this this little cunt, baby” is all the warning you get before he’s plowing back into you so hard that your vision blacks out for a second. 

You yelp in surprise before a long, continuous string of loud moans and whimpers starts pouring out of your mouth. He’s relentless with it, jackhammering into you with absolutely no mercy. This position gives him the best angle to pound into your favorite spot that turns you into an incoherent mess. So he adjusts his stance slightly and angles his hips until you cry out and flail underneath him letting him know he found it.

“There you go, angel” he sighs. “Fuck you take it so well, baby, like my cock was made for fuckin’ this pretty pussy.” 

 He keeps the same angle and slides a hand underneath you. He takes a few seconds to prod his fingertips around where he’s pounding into you just feeling how your tight light hole stretches every time he slams into you. “Love this perfect little pussy” Joel sighs as he presses two fingers against your swollen clit. “My perfect little pussy.” 

You sob at the pressure and Joel inhales sharply, his dick lurching inside of you when you clamp down on him. But he doesn’t let up, not one bit. He keeps pummeling into you as he quickly builds up speed with the circles he’s tracing over your clit. You can feel hot tears brimming in your eyes as he gives you everything you need. 

Pleasure wraps itself around the base of your spine and seeps into your veins, coursing through your entire body until every nerve is tingling and leaving you a quivering mess as you try to hold on for just a bit longer, wanting this feeling to last forever.  

“Don’t hold back, baby. I can feel your tight little cunt squeezing me” Joel pants, fully aware of how close you are.  “Give it to me, angel, I’ve got you. Just wanna feel fuckin’ soak my cock, baby.” 

You have no fight left in you so you let go. 

Joel watches in amazement as you start to shake uncontrollably underneath him. The tears start to run down your face as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on top of you, flooding every single one of your senses. Your vision goes black as TV static roars in your ears and every nerve ending in your body feels raw and exposed. 

“Good girl, baby. Just like that. You feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl” Joel moans as you fall apart on his cock and his eyes roll back in his head when he feels you gush around him. He fucks you through it, obviously. with your juices leaking down his cock and dripping down to his balls. He mutters “God fuckin’ damn” from somewhere behind you, the sensation sending tingles up and down his spine and igniting something deeply desperate inside of him. 

Meanwhile, you’re still shaking violently, your limbs jerking with random movement as the aftershocks steadily rock through you. The intense pleasure starts to fade as an even greater sense of relaxation starts to replace it. Joel is still pounding into you as he chases after his orgasm with no regard. Your head feels thick and stuffy like someone replaced your brain with cotton and it feels like your skin is on fire. Then your limbs start to feel heavy and tingly and you both know what’s about to happen. 

Aware that your hearing is starting to fade, Joel leans over you until his chest is pressed firmly against your back. 

“You still with me, angel?” Joel grunts near your ear, still refusing to let up on his pace, his hips snapping into yours relentlessly. 

You nod lazily, a big grin spreading across your face when you hear his voice in your ear. But he still sounds miles away and it’s getting harder and harder to focus on anything other than the electric shocks pulsing through your body as he pushes into your g-spot over and over again while the unyielding weight of deep relaxation pulls you under. 

“Good girl” Joel praises before placing a quick kiss on your jaw. If you’re still with him, he only has a few more seconds left before you drift somewhere else entirely. 

“Can I come, angel? Have I been good?” Joel asks. It’s quickly followed by a strained grunt when he feels you spasm around him. He’s making you stupid with his cock and yet he still finds it in him to play into your desires and beg for you again just because he knows how much you like it. And he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like it too. 

“Tell me I can cum, baby. God I need it you drive me fucking crazy baby, please” Joel pants completely unable to mask his desperation anymore. He’s suddenly overwhelmed by the completely foreign sensation of physically wanting to be good for you, finally understanding the rationale behind your yearning for his constant praise.

You must already be gone, you think because there’s no way that Joel, your big, dominant man who would knock someone’s teeth out if they even looked at you wrong, is begging you to cum. You try to speak, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and all that comes out are breathy gasps each punctuated Joel’s hips slamming against your ass. 

Joel sees you struggling to talk and his cock throbs in response but he tries to hold off until you respond. 

“C’mon, angel” he grunts encouragingly. “I know you can do it. Tell me I can fill up your little pussy with my cum til it’s running down your fuckin’ legs” 

His words give you the push you need to move your lips again. You manage to get out a slurred “yessirplease” followed by a loud, unrestrained moan. Joel groans loudly and can’t help but smile at your response, answering his begging with your own begging and giving a perfect display of how much you needed each other. 

But the need to cum quickly pushes out all of his thoughts. With a heavy exhale through his nose, he shoves your hips down, presses both palms down on your lower back, pushing you down into the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes on you, completely focused on your face squished against the pillow and  the way your eyelashes are fluttering against your cheek that’s wet and shiny with tears as he continues to use you for his own pleasure while simultaneously taking you to the place only he can take you to. 

In his classic Joel manner, he brings two fingers to your mouth and gently slips them through your parted lips. He presses down on your tongue and even though you feel miles away from your body, you still reflexively close your mouth and suckle on his fingers. 

That does it for him. The way your hot, wet cunt is squeezing him so hard he can barely move combined with the feeling of your spit already leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you drool on his fingers is all he needs.

You whine through it all, not realizing what’s happening until his hips falter and still inside of you. He buries himself deep inside of you and cums with a loud, broken moan, filling you up with ropes and ropes of hot cum just like he promised. 

When he’s finished, stays inside and collapses on top of you, careful not to crush or scare you while you’re in this delicate headspace. 

With a deep sigh, he nudges his nose under your jaw to gently kiss your pulse point and he feels it hammering faintly against his lips.  He whispers words of sweet praise against the damp skin of your neck, gently roping you back in from where you went. 

You announce your reentry to the atmosphere with a loud sniffle and long and low pathetic whine of his name. 

“You’re okay, angel” Joel mumbles against your jaw before kissing your cheek. “I’ve got you, my sweet girl.” 

You’re still tingly and trembling as you return back to body and a wave of exhaustion hits you like a brick to the face. You hum softly as Joel rolls off of you and lies on his back before quickly pulling you into his side. 

He engulfs you in his arms, holding you as close as physically possible. His heart flutters in his chest when you snuggle your face against his chest, your cheek wet and feverishly warm. He brings a hand up to your head and gently pets your hair, patiently waiting for your breathing to return to normal. 

When you finally stop trembling, Joel sighs and whispers “I think I’m gonna start jerkin’ off in the shower more often.” It makes you laugh. The sound comes out as a sharp exhale through your nose and with that, Joel knows your back. 

“Can we order in tonight?” you ask, your voice quiet and weak. Joel chuckles, amused by the fact that he just fucked your brains out and the now the first thin on your mind is what’s for dinner. 

“Sure, angel. Picked up some ice cream for ya when I was at the store. It's waitin' for you in the freezer.” 

You beam into his chest, absolutely tickled pink at the seemingly small action. And just to add the cherry on top, you pick your head up to look at him before whispering “good boy.”

Thank you for reading and interacting!! I love you all so much hugs and smoochies for everyone 😚🫶🥰