#pics from my sunday walk

[notebook-enthusiast]

[myfriendtheghost]

goodnight my sweet lil baby 🥰

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | eight

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: the one where they get caught. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, domestic bliss, gratuitous descriptions of joel reading, joni mitchell, explicit unprotected piv sex, delayed gratification, dirty talk, finger sucking, biting, academic praise kink, cream pie, who's in the pic on joel's desk??, angst, confrontation, an orpheus and eurydice metaphor uh oh, those blue panties from 3 come back to haunt us. word count: 6.9k nice series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: i need someone to make me write [or not write] the way j miller phd does in this... also sorry and i hope you like it and sorry again follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part eight of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Winter descends over Maine not with a bang, but with a whimper.  

The days and weeks fold together in a blurring mess of sleep ins and papers and coffees, until suddenly a month has passed, and you hardly noticed it slipping through your fingers.

You spend less time at home, and more tucked on one side of Joel’s couch, your feet in his lap as he lounges down the other end. You dip pale toast in runny yolks at the table, listening to him on the phone to Sarah in the other room. Hear him say I’m good, baby girl… I’m really good when she asks how he is.

You ride shotgun in the truck between his place and the university, slipping out the passenger door a little early every time. Walk the final stretch lest someone notice his glasses, your hair through the windscreen.

On campus you watch him up there on his stage, a burn in your chest, and see how he seeks you out in the after. How he props you above him and returns your gaze finally. Curls his body around yours and repents for every time he had to look away.

It's warm and it’s kind and it’s trading books with scribbled notes in the margins.

It’s rain smacking against the windows as you read, his scruffy chin nesting in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, two sets of eyes staring at the same words.

It’s nodding off in his bed where the sheets have started to smell like your perfume, eyelids heavy as you wait for him to get home. It’s wearing only his clothes and being woken up by his face between your thighs, pupils blown and lips slick.  

It’s finding each other at the end of a long day and hearing him say, I thought about you all afternoon.

And this feeling of familiarity writhes between the slats of your ribs. A comfortable, quiet fondness that you see reflected in his eyes when he looks at you; that you hear when that tender mouth forms your name.

You gorge yourselves on it. Put lips to the crooks and thorns in each other’s bodies and suckle on that fondness, swallow, swallow, and watch the well never run dry.

The bleed is endless. Beneath the stain of time it floods and flurries, melting the two of you together until you start to feel certain it could never end.

Until, of course and at last, it does.

Sunday.

It’s late, you think. Somewhere in the mess where time blurs between sunset and midnight, Winter stealing hours that feel like minutes.

The curtains in his living room are drawn, low yellow light warming the room from a tall lamp in the corner. Blue spins in the on the record player, a gentle sway of sound that fills the room.

I like listening to Joni on Sundays, he’d confessed in the bathroom, bashful as he rubbed a towel over you, drying the wet ends of your hair and the slick skin of your shoulders.

He reads at the table now, strong chin cupped in his palm as his eyes flit across the pages of a textbook.

Something to do with conservation; a Minoan palace in Knossos, you think. He’d explained it earnestly, but his curls were soft and fluffy from the shower and his glasses were resting on the tip of his nose and so you’d found yourself zoning out, eyes going from round to heart shaped as you nodded along from the couch.

Every few minutes he grips his pen and jots down a note before glancing up to check on you. And whenever this happens you avert your eyes quickly, pretending to be enthralled by the half-finished essay on your screen. You have a feeling he catches you each time, because he keeps laughing softly, tutting under his breath as he goes back to reading, foot never stopping its tap-tap-tap in time with the music. The only time he gets up is to flip the record, and soon those little laughs and huffs start to mix with Joni’s bell-like voice, and the opening lyrics to California swell through the room as you type at a glacial pace.   

She sings, I met a redneck on a Grecian isle, and you glance up again, eyes turning wide and doe-like when you find Joel already watching you. He gave me back my smile, Joni sings. But he kept my camera to sell.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” Liar. “Great, even.” Bad liar.

Joel’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, lips twitching in a clear attempt to smother a laugh, but he just nods, looking back down at his book.

He’s wearing home clothes. That’s what he called them. Home clothes.

When he’d said it, still pulling them on, you’d wanted nothing more than to grip his hands and stop him in his tracks, but you’d sequestered yourself to the other side of the room instead, sorely committed to the study evening he’d suggested. But he’s in soft grey sweatpants and an even softer looking white t-shirt, and every time he sips his coffee he hums happily against the rim of his mug, and his bare foot goes tap-tap-tap and Joni sings Oh, will you take me as I am?, and—

“Come here.”

You blink. His eyebrows raise expectantly, lips split into a broad smile now.

“Unless you’d rather stay over there and keep starin’.”

You reach him as The Last Time I saw Richard, the final track on side two, begins to spin.

Joni sings, all romantics meet the same fate, and Joel’s knees fall apart, thighs splayed so handsomely across his chair, inviting you to take a seat. You ignore the woeful lyrics and focus instead on the knowing smirk on his face, taking a step forward, and another, until you’re stood between his open legs.

He doesn’t touch you. Just smiles, all saccharine and easy, leaning back in his chair.

“Much left to do?” He points at the laptop in your hands.

“Maybe another hundred words,” you grumble and put it down on the table. “Today, at least.”

Joel hums, eyes flicking down. His gaze skirts across the bare skin of your legs, the soft sleep shorts you’re wearing; ones he puts on you himself, and knows you don’t have anything beneath.

“Come here.” He pats his thigh; stops you with a soft tut when you try to straddle him. “Naw, baby, like this.”

Soft hands tilt your hips, turn you until your back is to his chest and he’s drawing you onto his lap.

“Oh.” You smile, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

Nose turned into the side of his face, you brush a kiss to the edge of his jaw and sigh in relief as he wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes.

The space between his chest and the table is a little tight; small enough that if you were to lean forward a few inches your ribs would knock against the wood.

As if he’s thinking the same thing, Joel leans forward. Presses you against the table, one hand coming up to hold your face. His fingers are soft on your skin, offering small amounts of pressure as he grips your jaw and encourages you to look forward.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up a little, skin prickling at the shift in his tone. Still soft, still quiet, yet with something… demanding, shifting just below the surface.

“You,” you say, cringing at the way your voice takes on a higher quality all of a sudden. Steeling yourself, you add, “You’re distracting me.”

“Wasn’t doing anythin’,” he responds simply. “Just sittin’ over here, minding my business while you burn holes in my head.” 

“You know what you’re doing.”

“I cooked dinner.” He squeezes you again. “Fed you. We showered, and now I’m readin’.”

“You were humming.”

Joel kisses the shell of your ear.

“And tapping.”

He flutters his fingers against your hip.

“S’that such a crime?” he murmurs.

“No, but…” You sigh when his tongue snakes out, tracing the soft curve of your earlobe. “But it…”

“But but but,” Joel mocks, and you can feel his sick smirk against your neck, teeth teasing along your carotid now. “But all you can think about is my cock, ain’t that right?”

Your stomach falls away. Everything firm inside you turns to goo as he laughs, knowing he’s right.

“So needy,” he taunts you, holding your hip tighter as his length begins to thicken against your ass. “Had all day to ask for it.”

You don’t respond, tongue tied and more uninterested in your essay than ever.

“Just lookin’ for a distraction now,” he teases lightly. “The more you put it off, the harder it’ll be to get it done, baby.”

“I know.”

“If you know.” He hooks a finger over the waistband of your shorts. “Then finish it.”

“S’not that simple,” you whine, rolling your hips over his lap. A sharp puff of air warms the back of your neck, so you do it again. His hand tightens around your jaw.

“Just a hundred words, right?” he coaxes gruffly. “Come on now, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You feel his thick cock beneath his sweats, stiff and pressing between the crease of your thighs, melting what’s left of your resolve. You want to grind down against it. To pull your soft sleep shorts to the side and let him sink inside with no more pretence. But you put your hands on the desk, eyes on the screen, and Joel slides his warm palms beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Floats them over the curve of your stomach, the soft flesh around your ribs, waking thousands of tiny hairs that cover your skin until his fingers meet your chest, and he cups your breasts.

You shiver, lids growing heavy as he squeezes and tickles at your skin. Your nipples harden to peaks against his rough palms, and he sighs at the feeling, face resting against the back of your neck as he plays.

“Fuck,” you sigh, voice a broken buzz in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I thought you wanted me to write.”

“I do,” Joel murmurs unconvincingly. “A hundred words, go on.”

Hands like lead on the table, it feels like an impossible task. Even more than it did ten minutes ago. You force yourself to lift your fingers to the keyboard, vision sharpening as you look for where you left off. You try to shut him out, try to ignore the way his tongue warms the skin on your neck, the way the hairs on his thighs tickle against yours, and begin to write.

But he doesn’t make it easy.

The second you finish the first sentence one of his hands drifts down your stomach to cup your pussy over your shorts. You flinch, heart galloping in your chest when he sighs in your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, pleading already. “I can’t if you…”

“You can,” he soothes. The warmth of his palm is suffocating, so hot against where you’re already wet and wanting. Thick fingers press against the fabric, nudging it between your slick folds until it goes damp. “Just ignore me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” you reply. You type five more words, chest rattling with heavy breaths as he paws at you, thumbing at your clit through your shorts.

His breath is hot and heavy against your neck and his soft curls tickle your skin as you try to focus.

“Ignore me,” he repeats, and you squeak as he tilts you forward. A rush of breath spills from your mouth, chest flush to the desk, ass suspended above his lap as he shifts behind you. And when he pulls you back down, you sigh pathetically over the fact that he’s pushed his sweats down.

The full weight of his length presses against you, nestled between the rounded flesh of your ass, and you manage to mumble his name.

“Just—” You’re panting now; considering begging. “—I can do this later. I will finish it later, I swear, just—”

Joel nudges your shorts to the side and presses a finger between your folds. A ragged gasp stutters out of you, finger jammed against the keyboard. A steady stream of kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk fills a line of the document as he smears your wetness up to your clit.

“Fuck,” you mumble, hips tilting forward, trying to chase the feeling.

“None of that,” he tuts quickly, other hand slipping down and pinching the skin at the inside of your thigh. You’ve only backspaced half of the k’s when he slips two fingers inside you. “Come on, now.”

Thirty words fly as he crooks his fingers inside you. Slow and gentle, thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit as he works you open.

“That’s it,” he coos, pressing a third finger inside. Your cunt sucks desperately at his fingers, the skin of your face warming as you catch a glimpse of your reflection on the laptop screen. Jaw hanging low, a silent prayer for relief written across the open slant of your mouth. “My smart girl. Knew they didn’t give you that degree for nothin’.”

You gasp and swat at his wrist, but a satisfied little smile cracks your face for a moment when he laughs. Only for it to fall seconds later when he lays a sharp bite to the back of your shoulder. You moan, voice cracking around his name, rutting desperately against his hand.

“You can do it,” he flatters you, sickly sweet and entirely convincing as he strokes at your insides. Curling and stretching until you’re turning to a wet trembling mess in his lap, wobbling through half-assed sentences that you aren’t sure even match up with your essay outline anymore.

“Good,” Joel murmurs. “That’s good.”

“Don’t look,” you slur out, heart pounding at the idea of him reading anything you’ve written in this state. “It’s f-for your class, you can’t look.”

“Not lookin’.” He noses at the back of your ear. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Just lookin’ at you, m’always just lookin’ at you.”

“I’ll finish it.” You switch up your tactic now. Voice low and breathy, the back of your head resting heavy on his shoulder, eyes longing to close. “Tomorrow, I’ll write it—”

“Tomorrow?” His thumb drags harder on your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp, stomach tensing. You feel a bit floaty all of a sudden. Locked out of your own mind, all thoughts spilling from between your thighs as desire grips you, consumes you. “Please, just…”

“What, baby?” he prompts. “Say it.”

“Just let me sit on your cock,” you groan. “Please, I can’t think right now, I’ll finish it, I promise.”

“You fuckin’ promise—Christ,” he grumbles, fingers drifting from your tight clutch. “Just a little more, baby, for me.”

You don’t even really know how it happens after that. Ears roaring, skin tight, everything is a blur as you write and write and write and he presses his leaking tip between your folds works you down onto his length. Hands everywhere, so warm, so rough, holding your thighs, your waist, your breasts, your shorts to the side. Slower when your gasps spin higher, you think, always knowing when to ease up, when the burn gets too much too quick.

Joel grips your thighs, prying them apart until your calves are on the outside of his, and then he’s shifting his legs open wide, giving your own no choice but to follow. You feel the full weight of him in this position. The long, thick stretch of his cock inside you as your legs dangle listlessly over his lap, toes straining and failing to reach the floor. You can do nothing but rest heavily across his thighs, those hands still everywhere all at once, and whine pitifully as your walls spasm and clench around him, coil inside pulling tighter and tighter.

Vision waning, the text on your screen warbles as Joel slips the pad of his finger against your clit and begins to play with it. Soft little rubs that have you going tense and leaning forward on the table, braced on your elbows and grinding down into his lap, desperate for release, for movement, anything. It feels like your brain is splintering into a thousand tiny pieces inside your skull.

“You’re so wet,” Joel rasps, forehead heavy against your shoulder blade as he groans. “Pretty pussy’s drippin’ all over me, honey. You really need it that bad?” 

You say something you think, mouth moving and eyes rolling as his hips shift up in a weak little thrust. Just one.

“Keep goin’.” He sounds pained, half-drunk as the words stumble out of him.

Your mind slips further from your grasp and you’re typing pure gibberish. Slurring messes of letters cloaked in perfect punctuation. Your fingers fly across the keys, painting commas and full stops and semi colons around complete and utter bullshit as your cunt flutters and your belly stirs.

His finger glides and his cock pulses and your vision darkens and you come. Shoulders hunched, table digging into your forearms, you fold forward and cry out as an agonisingly brief orgasm rips through you.

It’s over before it’s even begun, but Joel groans and offers a shallow thrust, your cry turning to a gasp as he grips your thigh for dear life.

“Oh good girl,” he murmurs, fingers slowing against your nerves, not wanting to overwhelm. “Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now. Liquid frustration that pools against your waterline and threatens to spill when he still doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.

“How much left?” he asks roughly, rocking his hips against yours in a steady pace now. Gentle, rolling movements that snag on the heels of your orgasm and hold it close.

“Huh?”  

“How many words?”

“I don’t…” Your eyelids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he laughs a little then, rueful but not unkind. “That’s gonna be hell to edit.”

With a furious groan you slam the laptop closed, the sharp smack of metal on metal filling your ears as he grips your hips and really starts to fuck you.

It’s not fast though, not rough. Just deep, lingering strokes that grind against the end of you and nudge you stumbling toward the edge. He pinches your clit between the tips of his middle and ring fingers, rubbing slow drags up and down against the hood like that. Moaning and sweating, you slip your hand over his. Press lower and let your fingers glide around his girth, thick and vascular between your thighs, hot skin wetter every time he pulls out of you.

“Feel that?” Joel pants, teeth nipping at the top of your spine. “You’re creamin’ for me, baby. Fuck, I—I need to taste it.”

“Shit—oh god.”

He grips your wrist and drags it up, chin harsh against your shoulder as he sucks your fingers into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is filthy as his hot tongue snakes out to lick the webbing between your fingers, and you tip your head to watch his eyes roll back. His thighs tremble beneath you, but you can’t be sure it’s not just the vibrations of your own body tricking you.

But no, it’s him. His hips stutter against yours, deep plunges stilting into shallow movements, and he stalls deep inside your cunt for a second on the end of every thrust, as if his brain is short-circuiting.

You hook your fingers in his mouth, the tips digging into the gums behind his teeth, and tug him back to reality. He nips at your fingers and moans, hand falling heavy between your thighs again. And he doesn’t stop now; keeps pushing and pinching and fucking and grinding until your pussy is pulling tight and slick around his length and your fingers are fanned loose and shaky across his face, and you can hardly breathe except to say Joel or please or oh my god.

“Can feel it,” he grunts breathlessly, skin smacking against yours in a sharp staccato beat. “Deep breath, baby, c’mon, let me have it.”

“Your teeth,” you gasp feverishly. “Bite me again.” 

“Fuck,” he snarls and then he’s grating the hard line of his incisors along your shoulder.

The sweet pinch of his canines digging into your back sets your cunt aflutter around him, mouth hung open in silent ecstasy as he fucks you full of his seed and you suck it in deep, tight with longing, still panting and high when it begins to drip from where you’re connected, spooling around his cock and smearing between your thighs and his.

His chest heaves against your back. Chest hair damp wet sweat, dripping through your thin shirt until it can’t decide whether to cling to his skin or yours. There’s an ache at the base of your spine, maybe a muscle pulled, and his thumb presses into the flesh there as if he can sense it.

Sounds come back slowly. Joni’s finished and the needle tracks around the runout groove on the record, a little crackle flaring every few seconds where the two channels join. Joel’s breathing too, rough against your shoulder, harmonising with the wet sound of his lips peeling from your skin.

You tilt your head to the side.

Wild eyed, cunt-struck, Joel knocks his nose against yours. Groans low when you flick your tongue out to graze across his bottom lip. He’s bitten it rough and ragged and red, and you want to soothe the sting. His glasses are on top of his head, smudged lenses tucked amidst wild fluffy curls.

You try to kiss him, hard and wet, but he stops you with a hand to your jaw. Cradles your face and strokes your cheekbone and wipes the spittle from your lips before kissing you lightly. Chaste and gentle, like the two of you are ten and have never kissed anyone before, have never been brave enough to use your tongues.

That invisible bleed in your chest drips heavier. You picture a thick spurt of red against your chest cavity as he kisses the corners of your mouth, the tip of your nose, your eyelids.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling when his lips catch and drag across your skin with the movement of your head.

A moment passes like this. Searching kisses dotted over your smiling face. The swell of your cheeks, the ends of your eyebrows.

“Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real,” Joel confesses. A bare bones whisper that tickles the skin between your eyebrows, where his lips rest now. “Like you might just melt away if I don’t hold on tight enough. Disappear if I look away too long, and I’ll be stuck tryna convince myself that you were ever really here.”

Twisted up in his arms, you can feel the way his heart batters against his chest, thrashing through to vibrate against your back. He might as well be plucking the admission straight from your own mouth.

“I’m real,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m here, it’s real.”

“Me too,” he says. Something wet tickles your skin, but it’s gone in a second. Rubbed over by his thumb, soothed with another kiss.

I love you, you think, but when you speak it comes out as, “No melting.”

Joel laughs softly. Kisses you again. “No melting.”

Thursday.

“It was too much.”

“It was fine.”

“I said the word grateful three times.”

“Four, actually.” You chew the inside of your cheek and shrug apologetically. “I counted.”

“Jesus,” Joel sighs, reaching up to a drag a hand over his face.

He’s pulled his desk chair all the way across the office. Tie loosened and top buttons undone, he slumps in it a little. His thick knees almost brush against yours where you sit in his armchair.

“Hey, I liked it,” you smile, bumping his knee. “It was nice - shows you care.”

“Well, you ain’t all that hard to please,” Joel smarts, lip quirking up into a sly grin.

Mouth open in a scoff, you feign offence, dragging your laptop from your satchel and making a show of ignoring him.

“How the mighty fall,” he continues, sighing dramatically and tilting his head over the back of the chair. The light coming in through the window hits his face just right, and the grey hairs in his curls shine. “Grateful to have been your professor… asshole.”

“Don’t be precious,” you laugh softly. “You’re just embarrassed because you said you were going to miss us.”

“That was a lie,” Joel tuts, brushing you off with a hand in the air, biting back that grin. “I ain’t gon’ miss any of you assholes. And when those final papers come in—” He taps a finger against the top of your laptop “—I’ll be sayin’ my prayers that any of you can string a worthwhile sentence together.”

“If you’re lucky,” you drawl, batting his hand away. “You’ll teach some of us again next year. And when that semester finishes, you’ll say all of that shit again, because you’re a sap, Joel Miller.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, face softening, and then clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Smart ass.”

“And you love it,” you quip easily, only balking a moment later when the word hangs awkwardly in the air. Hands pausing on your keyboard, you glance up, neck hot, only to find Joel watching you still. Face suspended in a small smile; eyes light as he nods.

“I do,” he says after a moment. “But you’re on thin ice, wise guy.”

He plucks a book from his desk and spreads it open on his lap, either not noticing or simply not caring as you watch on, slack jawed. I do.

After a moment, Joel taps his foot against yours again. “Write.”

So, sucking in a breath, you do. Time passes and rain starts to drizzle against the window as you write, and Joel reads. Having forgotten to put a record on like normal, he hums lightly under his breath; some tune you can’t place but still nod along to. Every few minutes he turns his page, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate the way he holds books. Hate the way he cradles the spines, thumb hooked around the footnotes to hold his page. Hate the way his fingers trace the stanzas as he reads, tender and patient, and always afraid to miss something. Hate most the way the tendons on the backs of his hands flex when he turns the page. How the veins around them go fat and blue the longer he does this, as if all the blood in his body is sprinting towards the words. It’s a dangerous sort of eroticism, watching him read. You hate how much you love it.

In need of reprieve, you focus on your own hands. Crack tired knuckles and stretch out cramps and aches, taking a moment to peer over at his desk. The picture frame you’d once been so curious about is propped on the edge of it once again.

You can see Joel behind the glass panel, sporting a shit-eating grin with Sarah, clad in a graduation gown, tucked proudly against his chest. Taken the day she finished high school, you know now. And you’d never noticed it that first time, months ago, but Ellie’s face rests in the corner of the picture. Pink tongue stuck out and eyes pinched shut; she’d snuck her head into the frame at the last second apparently.

You gaze fondly at it, and feel that familiar warmth in your chest over the fact that he’s put it back out. No more hiding.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Joel glances over his shoulder, and then smiles.

“It’s a good photo,” you say. “You look so happy there.”

“I was. It’s one of my favourites,” he nods, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He seems to consider you for a moment, eyes flicking around your face, fingers fidgeting with the corner of his page. “Hey, I uh… Sarah actually called yesterday.”

He pauses. Takes an unusually deep breath and folds the book shut.

“Okay.” You blink, confused. “Is she alright?” 

“Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, she was uh, she was askin’ about the holidays, and if—”

The office door creaks open, and Joel’s mouth seals shut as Rachel walks hastily inside, rushed words filling the small room.  

“Joel, sorry, I need to grab—oh.”

There’s an odd pause after the words catch in her throat. A moment of uncomfortable stillness as the three of you inhale all at once, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

You and Joel aren’t touching, but your knees rest close, one of his feet in the space between yours on the carpet. Laptop propped on your knees, your final essay still lays open with a stream of edits pasted through the margins, cursor blinking at the end of the word nostos.

Joel, tie undone and sleeves rolled up, looks painfully casual in your presence.

“Sorry.” Rachel blinks, hovering awkwardly as the door clicks shut behind her. “I didn’t realise you had a… a meeting today?” The end of her sentence flares up, as if she’s confused, phrasing it like a dubious little question.

You offer a smile in her direction and hope it comes across as relaxed, a little encroaching even; as if you are the one who has interrupted; the one who should not be here.

“It’s fine,” Joel supplies easily, straightening in his chair to give her his full attention. His face gives nothing away. Stoic and calm, the way you’d imagine him to be if you weren’t here at all. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says, frowning like she’s affronted by the question. Looks between the two of you again, listless fingers curling at her sides. “Just came to get that Livy copy back

You look back at your screen and will yourself to type something. To appear casual, studious, as if your heart isn’t lodged in the base of your throat.

“Sure,” he nods, gesturing vaguely toward his desk. “It’s in one of the drawers on the left.”

Rachel nods, walking over to the desk, and as her back turns you spare a glance at Joel. Find him already looking at you, eyebrows pulled down a little. Pink lips mouth It’s fine, married with a soft nod of his head, and for the second time in seconds you attempt a smile. 

There’s the sound of wood sliding against wood, and then a soft, tired kind of silence. The lack of sound seems to swell, the air in the room thinning, your eyes focusing on Joel’s fingers on the armrest of his chair, tap tap tap, Rachel’s unruly curls somewhere past that, her face downturned, looking at something. Wary breaths held in unison, synced heart beats racing. It’s fine, it’s fine, no melting.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Your head snaps up. Joel turns in his chair and begins to ask what’s wrong, but all that ends up coming from him is a sort of choked noise, rough around the edges, and breathless in the middle. Chest on fire, you let yourself look past him to where she stands.

Her gaze is hard as she stares Joel down from across the room. A slip of blue; soft material visible between her fingers, held up for a stunned chorus to see.

Your hearing deafens a little as you look on, motionless, a vague memory of birthday boy and got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock? playing in your mind. Of a damp patch on his shirt as he tucked blue into his desk drawer.

Joel says Rachel’s name, you think. Can see the way his jaw moves, the way her dark eyes sharpen, flitting back and forth between the two of you. And then, like a volcanic eruption or the swell beneath a wave, realisation crests the hill and It’s fine cracks and crumbles and turns to dust in your grasp. You don’t know what she knows, or how she knows, you just know that she does.

“You… what is this?” Rachel’s face shifts into something uncomfortable. A warped, grotesque shot at a smile. But as her lips curl upward, eyebrows down, it’s nothing but a contorted mess that blurs endlessly between confusion, surprise, and then horror. “This… her? She’s the reason you—”

“Rachel.” Joel’s entire body is wound tight. You can see the edge of his jaw from where you sit; the way his shoulders pull back, tight he watches her.

Your body seems to hold itself together for a moment. Breath caught on an inhale, lungs expanded, eyes frozen on the hard line of his nose, the arm of his glasses—places you feel safe to hover. But then she speaks again, and everything lurches back into focus. Like a needle scratching on a record, or tires squealing as a car pulls to an abrupt stop at a red—the words make you cringe, chest deflating and face crumpling.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she’s saying, and her voice raises, louder to match the disbelief in her tone. “You… she’s a fucking student.”

When the fear hits it doesn’t come slowly. It strikes hard and solid; an icy sheet of dread that sucks at your fingers and numbs your extremities. Cool and abrupt, it sinks to your bones and promises that you’ll never again feel anything but this. It laughs in the face of your warm kind month, pressing its chilled ice picks to the back of your eyes until they burn.

Her words hang heavy in the air, thick weights that press down on three sets of shoulders, and you have never wanted anything the way you want to see Joel’s face right now. To look at him and believe that this isn’t as bad as you know it to be. See that mouth tell you it’s fine and remember how it tastes.

Instead, a fear-stricken Orpheus, you will yourself not to look at him. Despite that longing, the way your arms beg to stretch out, to hold and be held, you do not look. No, you don’t think you could suffer the double death of both knowing this is happening and seeing him know it too.

In his place, you let your eyes turn to Rachel, and find that she already stares at you, small mouth cracked ajar in incredulity.

Mind whirring, racing, stumbling; fumbling to pin back together the pieces of who you once were in her eyes and who you are now. This woman you admire so, whose career path you’ve dreamt of, whose wit and quirk has propelled you, invigorated you.

It’s agonising to watch—the way her face morphs into something so unfamiliar as she looks at you now. An expression that once held only admiration, kindness, marred here by an inexplicable sense of pity. Not hate, or contempt, which perhaps would be easier to handle. Easier than the way those dark orbs go round and solemn with worry as they fall upon your anguished frame. It’s a slap in the face; camaraderie washed down the drain like the dregs of a long overdue bath, as she grips your soiled underwear in her fist.

Joel says her name, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s said it now, and she spurns his attempt at placation like a snake. Fast and deadly, venom dribbling from her tongue. 

“Someone else?” she says, and her voice is like never before. Mirthless and cold, fury laced through every word. With a sharp jerk of her elbow, she tosses the underwear across the room. They land against Joel’s chest, caught silently in his fist. “You’re fucking sick.”

“This isn’t what you think it is—” Joel starts, and you think you hear his voice shake.

“It isn’t?” She laughs cruelly at that. “You haven’t been sleeping with one of our students?”

The cursor blinks on your screen. Nostos, nostos, nostos, nostos.

“Listen, can we talk about this somewhere else?” he asks. “Not like this, I—”

“Oh, is this not a convenient time for you?” she scowls. “Jesus Christ.”   

The urge to speak bubbles in your chest. You don’t even know what you’re going to say until the words are spilling from your lips, disjointed and warbled, a voice that doesn’t even sound like your own.

“I pursued him,” you say.

You can feel them looking at you. Can hear the way you must sound to her, like some kid and not a woman who’s almost thirty years old and just as much to blame. But you can’t stop it.  

“We’re both adults. He never made me do anything I didn’t—”

Joel says your name sharply. His fist, in the periphery of your downturned gaze, grips your balled up underwear so tight that the blue is entirely invisible within the thick masts of his fingers.

You suck in a breath, and it feels like the last bit of air in the room disappears into your lungs, so you hold it there. Keep it safe inside and figure that if all three of you were to suffocate then at least the truth, and all the foul consequences that come with it, would die here with you.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Silence falls in the lull after those words, and it takes a moment for you to look up, finally. To realise that the double death wasn’t in looking at Joel, but in understanding that he’d spoken these words to you, not her.

Eyes locked with his, you feel the fear move to your side. Hang low until it ebbs and flows in the space beneath your ribs—a sharp ache with no end in sight. He looks tired; resigned. Mouth thin and downturned, cheeks splashed with red.

You think you must say something. Some fumbling, awkward acknowledgement, because Rachel is giving you that look again and you can’t bear it. Can’t stand those eyes, that misplaced pity.

You collect your things, hands numb as you pile them into your bag and head for the door, skin prickling in defence against the silence that follows your movements.

Outside his office, alone in the long corridor, you know you should go. Should follow the wall down the stairs, out to your car, and not look back. Can you give us a minute? But that sharp ache leaves you cowering against the wall, limbs heavy, ear to his door. 

“Rach,” Joel says softly, and it’s so familiar that your stomach rolls, lids fluttering closed. “It isn’t what you think, just let me explain, alright? We met before the term began; before she was my student. Before.”

“And then?”

“What?”

“I said, and then?” Rachel’s voice is steely. “You met her before and, what, you saw her in class and decided it was fine to let it continue? You—”

“Everything was consensual. You know me, I would never—”

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it. Did you not think about what would happen if you were found out? Her credibility will be destroyed, Joel.”

“I know—”

“I mean for fucksake, her first major presentation was given at a conference where you were the keynote speaker. How do you think this will look?”

“Fuck, I know. Can you keep your voice down, please.”

There’s a brief silence. You hear shuffling, feet against carpet, and a dull spike of fear flares in the back of your mind. The idea of getting caught a second time, eavesdropping from outside the door. Against better judgement, you don’t move, and Rachel speaks again.

“You’re wrong,” she says. “I don’t know you. I… you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

You don’t hear Joel’s response over the drumming in your ears. Hot blood thrashes and roars inside your body, veins pounding with terror. Hands shake damp and weary at your sides, thinking hard, hard, grasping for solution, for the chance to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is my fault.

But he must have said something because then you hear it. A low fragment of a human voice, words spoken clear as day. They slice through your ears and have you peeling away from the door, swallowed by a white-hot longing to disappear as you stumble down the hall, the stairs, until you’re sucking in cold air on the pavement outside.  

It’s raining hard now. Thin spray that comes at you sideways, lashing at your face and blinding you. You curl your back to the downpour and search thoughtlessly for your car, hands outstretched, those words of hers ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

When you find it, you press your key into the door and slump inside, and you still can’t avoid it. She might as well be standing right by the door, peering in at you. Shock in the jut of her brow, disappointment in the slant of her mouth as she whispers those words over and over through the crack in your window.

"I don’t care if you love her, Joel. I have to report you.”

refs:

joni mitchell's 1971 Blue album. [life changer]

the hollow men by t. s. elliot [fat juicy banger of a poem]

orpheus and eurydice from metamorphoses by ovid, tr. by a. d. melville

thank you for reading x

[ddejavvu]

heyyyy! i’m literally in love with you and ur writing. i had a fun idea for aaron hotchner and knew no one could execute it like you! imagine this- aaron and f!reader meet and fall in love but aaron keeps it secret due to not wanting another haley. he likes all of her insta posts and follows her, and reader has a pic with him in it. garcia finds it and goes crazy and looks up reader only to find she has a criminal record for like the stupidest reason- cutting of a cop while driving or smtg! 🫶❤

Aaron isn't often summoned into the lair of the great Penelope Garcia, but he is today. Typically, he walks in himself to talk to her, but at her very stern, 'See me in my office now', he's knocking gently on the door.

"Come in." She calls from inside, voice miles away from its usually bubbly nature.

He feels like their roles have been reversed, the strange urge to keep his gaze guiltily on the ground surfacing in his chest as he opens the door to her office. He shuts the door behind him on reflex, and he's glad he did when she whirls on him, no longer facing her multiple computer monitors.

"You're dating a criminal," She accuses, eyes narrowed. Then, far louder, "You're dating a criminal!"

Aaron winces, peering behind her at the screens. One has your instagram profile pulled up, and another, your mugshot.

"I cannot believe you, Hotch," She berates, "Have you forgotten that you work as a criminal-catcher? I know you work to help the government get these people off of the streets, but that doesn't mean you get to put them in the sheets, you lunatic!"

"Penelope," His voice is stern, and he motions to your mugshot, "Check her charge."

"What?"

"Open her file. Look at what she was arrested for." Hotch instructs, slightly unnerved by the fact that Penelope had correctly assumed he was sleeping with you. Was he too obvious about it? He hadn't been going suspiciously easy on them, he doesn't think, but perhaps he'd been too smiley. Or checked his phone too much. Or clocked a suspiciously low amount of overtime hours this week. Or-

"Oh." Penelope's voice breaks him out of his spiral, and he doesn't need to look at the screen to know what it says: Reckless Driving.

There's a note beneath it though, a subheading: Merged carelessly close in front of a police vehicle.

"She cut them off, it was an accident," Aaron explains, and he watches Penelope's unusually tense shoulder slowly loosen, "I'm not dating a serial killer, Garcia."

"Oh." She repeats, blinking back at your instagram profile, "And- but you are-? You're seeing her?"

Hotch heaves a heavy sigh, knowing the news will spread around the entire office by lunch, "Yes. I am seeing her."

Her lips quirk up in a grin and she watches him with soft eyes, "Good. You should bring her to dinner at Rossi's this Sunday, y'know. I'm sure everyone would love to meet her."

"I might," Aaron's been toying with the idea for a few nights now, but perhaps Penelope will give him the courage he needs to go through with it. He glances up at her from where he'd been scrutinizing the leg of her desk, a barely-there smile curved upon his lips, "But- uh, if I do bring her, I'll drive."

[littlegrapejuice]

Il Predestinato | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Meeting Louis Tomlinson and Charles winning the Italian GP at Monza on the same day? What more could you ask for?

Author's Note: as both a 1d and f1 fan, how could i not write smth ab louis being in the ferrari garage for the weekend🤭 also those pics fucking annoyed me bc tumblr was being a bitch so i just made a collage or else i would've thrown my phone through the window

Louis. William. Tomlinson. Was in the Ferrari garage for the Italian Grand Prix at Monza. You had been ecstatic to hear the news from Charles back on Friday, and had been thinking all weekend about how to act once you would be in front of him. However, you were as nervous as excited to meet your favourite singer and it didn't help when Charles's PR manager told you both that Louis had arrived on Sunday.

Charles was requested during a certain time slot to speak with him, which he was glad to do so compared to previous celebrities that he had met as Louis was someone you held in high regards, meaning that Charles was intrigued to see why.

You didn't know whether this was the best moment for you to try and talk to Louis, or if you should wait for the start of the race, or even until after the race to meet him. For now, you were simply engrossed in a conversation with Arthur about the Formula 3 and Formula 2 races that had happened a couple hours ago, discussing the latest winners.

You knew Charles was on the other side of the garage with Louis, probably having small talk and taking pictures, but you were unaware of the conversation they were now actually having.

"Saying it once again but it's good to have you here today with us," Charles told Louis.

"My pleasure to have been invited honestly," the singer replied. "Being in the Ferrari garage at Monza is crazy, massive thank you to your team. I'll be rooting for you today, mate."

"Thanks for the support." Charles glanced at you then thought for a second about how to start the topic, until he decided to just wing it. "Is it alright if I introduce you to someone while you're here? My girl's a big fan of yours and I know she's been thinking all weekend about how to stage your meeting."

"Yeah, no problem." Louis nodded with a smile, always down to meet a fan. "Bring her there, I absolutely don't mind at all."

And this is what Charles did, as he called out your name with his signature accent that you had grown to love over the years. Expecting to see him alone, you didn't think Charles would call you while he was still talking with Louis. Therefore, you hesitated for a second about whether to flee your boyfriend and favourite singer. However, when Louis turned to face whoever Charles had called, he gave you such a warm smile that there was no way for you to ignore the man now. So you calmly walked towards them, deeply breathing in and out as a means to compose yourself.

"Great of you to join us", Charles told you with a smile. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit and come back later, okay?"

"Alright man," Louis replied with a nod. "See you later!"

"I- what?" Charles where the fuck are you going? You thought as your boyfriend just waved at you before going to replace you in the conversation you had been having with his brother. No turning back now...

Louis Tomlinson, former member of One Direction and now in a successful solo career with two albums that led to sold out tours, was in front of you. He didn't know whether to talk first, but decided upon it as he was used to the state you were starting to be in.

"Hi love," he gently began. "You alright?"

"Yeah, hmm... sorry, oh my God..." You were so embarrassed right now, not even able to form a proper sentence in front of your favourite artist. "Hi! Yes I'll be fine, I think."

"It's just me, little ol' Louis. We're simply having a chat so nothing to panic about, yeah?"

Sharply inhaling, your answer was a nod, before you slowly exhaled. Okay, this is only Louis Tomlinson. This is my favourite singer, but we're chilling. All good, you repeated in your head.

"Is it fine if I hug you?" You eventually asked as you felt more relaxed.

"Of course love," he agreed before opening his arms. "Come 'ere."

People often said that Louis hugged his fans like a mother did, as a way to protect them and to show how much he cared for them. You didn't think it was entirely true until now.

This was probably one of the most reassuring hugs you've ever had, as you just felt calm and serene. Your mind suddenly stopped stressing over the fact that you were hugging the Louis Tomlinson, and you were now just enjoying the contact. Louis could sense you had become less stiff during the hug, and thought it fine to slowly remove his arms from around you.

"Feeling better now?" He inquired as he kept his hands on your shoulders for a few seconds before putting them back in his pockets.

"Yes, thank you. Sorry, I thought I would be ready to meet you but I guess my brain wasn't entirely agreeing."

"All good, don't be sorry about that." He smiled again, and the only words that came to your mind to describe it were gentle and warm like the sun. "So, what can you tell me about you?"

"Oh, hmm, I don't really know..."

"Any favourite songs?" He suggested with a teasing tone.

"Absolutely, yeah, of course!" And that was it, you were quickly back to your usual self as Louis himself was allowing you to rant about him. "So, from the first album I'd say Only The Brave. Could've made it longer", you added with a laugh, "but still an amazing song. And for the second one, I think Holding On To Heartache. Makes me cry everytime I listen to it, but it's always worth it."

"Wow, do you not like any happier songs of mine?" Louis chuckled. Damn, you made Louis Tomlinson laugh.

"Of course I do!" You retorted. "Silver Tongues is a masterpiece, great way to end the shows. And also every song you wrote for the band is a banger so there's that too."

"You went to one of the shows then?" He wondered. "I hope you did, wouldn't want my new favourite fan to have missed tour."

"I did, yes." Being jokingly called his 'new favourite fan' shouldn't make you blush like it did, but hey! This is still your favourite singer in front of you. "The Paris show, for both tours. I'm never getting over it, feels like I imagined it all."

"Paris, wow that takes me back. Those Saturdays lights man, they were insane."

"That's how you know you always have to come back there every tour, yeah?" You teased with a smile, over the moon when Louis confirmed that France would never leave his concert map. "I'm so happy you put this show on the live album by the way, that's like a fever dream to be somewhat featured on it."

"You liked it?" He asked, to which you nodded. "Got the album alright?"

"Oh, I didn't buy it yet but I'm planning on getting the CD don't worry."

"Forget that", Louis told you. "I'll get you one along with the vinyl and the whole package, yeah? Tell you what, I'll get in touch with your boyfriend's manager to send you all that properly. Sounds good?"

"Yes, oh my God, absolutely. Thank you so much!"

"Least I can do for you, we'll stay in contact." A look behind you notified Louis that Charles was walking towards the both of you, probably meaning that goodbyes were in order. "Very nice to meet you, I hope we'll see each other again."

"Thanks for taking the time to speak with me, I really appreciate it. Enjoy the race!"

Sharing a last quick hug, Louis left you so that he could go mingle somewhere else, before you felt a new pair of arms hugging you from behind.

"Sooo, how was meeting your favourite singer?" Charles asked.

"Amazing, thank you so much. I don't think I would've come talk to him by myself," you admitted.

"I'd be a monster and the worst boyfriend ever if I didn't push you to him. Who knows when you'd have another opportunity like that?"

"True. Now there's only one thing that could make me even happier than meeting Louis," you told Charles.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah," you nodded. "You on that top step after the race."

"That I can do, I guess."

"You guess?" You scoffed in reply. "Louis Tomlinson is in that garage, so you better win this Leclerc."

"I will", Charles assured you with determination in his eyes. "Do not worry even once about me, I will."

.....

And he did. He won in Monaco, his home race. He won in Monza, his team's home race. In. The. Same. Season.

You couldn't be prouder of him. From the first lap, you had been holding your breath when Charles managed to squeeze into P2 while Oscar overtook Lando.

Since then, it had been a rollercoaster of emotions for you and Charles's family with whom you were watching. You had been especially nervous when Charles got undercut by Lando, but it got better when you witnessed your boyfriend taking back the lead of the race later on.

You were scared when you saw the gap between Charles and Oscar getting shorter. Oscar had relatively new hard tyres compared to Charles who had his for the last forty laps or so.

But everything ended well. Charles crossed the finish line, P1 at the chequered flag. A Ferrari victory at home, at the temple of speed.

From then on, everything was a blur. You were a crying mess as Arthur hugged you. Everyone was cheering around you, celebrating a second victory of the Prince of Ferrari at Monza, five years later.

You didn't realise when Arthur pulled your hand and brought you with him to see Charles, the entire Ferrari team coming along. And when he drove his car to the P1 spot, everyone cheered once again. You knew you were far from being the loudest, still too emotional to actually process what happened.

Charles ran to his team, noticing you and Arthur in the middle of the red ocean. He hugged you both; happy tears pouring down everyone's cheeks.

The rest was another blur until you were looking up, with dried tears on your face, at Charles. As he had promised you, he was on the top step of the podium. Victory looked good on him, it always did. He seemed so relaxed, mouthing along to the Monegasque anthem, before the Italian one resonated and then all hell broke loose. Celebrations were in order, both for Charles and Ferrari, who had once again made Italy proud.

.....

You had been the proudest though, you assured Charles the next morning when you woke up in each other's arms. You both stayed in bed longer than usual, just basking in the peace and quiet you were getting compared to yesterday's fervour.

"It still feels like a dream," Charles told you.

"Dreams are made to be achieved", you softly replied. "You're making yours come true, as you should."

"I hope we are on the right path again now."

"Of course you are." Truth be told, you were waiting to see what would happen during the next races to be sure of it, but if Charles was trusting his team right now, then so did you. "This was such a wonderful weekend."

"Because I won or because you met Louis?" Charles asked with a laugh. "Which happened thanks to me by the way, you coward."

"Because you won, don't worry. Although Louis was a great bonus," you added. "I'm sure he was your lucky charm, you should invite him again."

"And lose my girlfriend to him?" He scoffed at your suggestion. "No way. You are my lucky charm, the only one I need."

"I'll be there for all your next wins then," you confirmed.  Whenever you need another one."

A comfortable silence then took place between the two of you, before Charles broke it:

"Would you rather be at his concert or a race?"

"Charles!" You exclaimed as you thought about how ridiculous he sounded.

"Would you, though?"

"Maybe..." Maybe not, you mentally added.

"You're kidding?"

"Unless you keep asking stupid questions like that, yes I'm kidding. Races can't be changed but it's easy to decide that I'll go see him elsewhere," you explained. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."

"Favourite artist?"

"I can do favourite pianist, but that's it."

"I'll take that, I guess. Right now, I'm the one in bed with you so..."

"And I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else", you said. "I love you, Prince of Ferrari, Il Predestino; wait no, Il Pres- no... Il Predestinato! Is that it?" You asked, a look of hope in your eyes.

"It is yeah," Charles confirmed with a chuckle. "Let's be glad I'm not dating you for your Italian."

"Yeah, yeah... you love me too much to care about how shit my Italian is."

"I do love you very much", he replied before kissing you. "Even if you obsess over British men who disbanded almost a decade ago."

"Hey! That's low, and mean!"

Charles apologised as you threatened to punch him for his previous words, laughter now echoing in your hotel room. Those were moments you would never trade for anything else, not when you had the opportunity to witness Charles's highs after so many lows. His happiness made yours, and you would stay by his side for as long as he'll want you.

It's you and me until the end.

..........

Anyone remembers when i said i had no idea if/when I'd ever write for a driver again🧍🏻‍♀️ well that was acc quick to happen lmao

Ig it's a bit addictive to write when you easily find material that helps create the content you wanna put out here - not only did charles win fucking monza but louis was there so that felt like a sign from the universe and i had no choice but to comply

Fun fact, otb and hoth truly are my fav songs from each album (i even have a tat in relation to hoth bc this song means sm to me and i fucking sobbed when i heard it live) + i did went to the paris show for each tour

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed it and ig this time i really don't know when I'll write again - maybe next gp depending on who wins and/or what happens during the lil break so bye bye for now❤️

[ihopeiexplode]

Householdhusband!Sukuna x CEO!Reader (+ some dad!sukuna too)

A/N: idk how u guys like my word bcs ys there so many of u begging me to upload something 😞😞(ily guys!!!)

Householdhusband!Sukuna

Who absolutely refused to be a stay-at-home husband. Why should you be the one working when he's a perfect provider? Sure your gonna inherit a company but still!

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who didn't even know how to do a simple household task, so why not turn to uraume for help!! sure he brunt down the kitchen one too many times in the process but hey none perfect right!...

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who saw your apron in your closet and decided to use it despite it being too 'girly' for his taste, why did he use it? he loves how comfy and multi-functional it is, plus he also like how it reminds him of you (refer to the cover pic for the ref!!)

(thx rina for this hc!! ^)

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who actually turned out to be a good cook after countless trial and errors with uraume...did he like doing it? no.

(yes he does he just doesnt wanna admit it bc its sukuna duh!!)

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who always cooks your favorite desserts/foods when you had a long day at work, he sees you upset the moment you walk through that door? he's imminently rushing to the kitchen grabbing the ingredients he needs

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who loves bringing you a whole feast when u wake up on every Saturday and Sunday, you're one providing for him plus being a CEO is hard work so why not reward you for it right?

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who brought you the lunch you left on your first day of your job and the moment he stepped into the building, everyone thought he CEO instead of you, i mean he screams CEO vibes doesn't he?

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who hates being teased by jin whenever he comes over to visit, sure the first thing he sees is sukuna in the kitchen wearing a pretty pink apron...

"You look pretty in pink, matches your hair" "ill kick you out the house if i hear one more word from you" "Shouldn't it be 'y/ns' house seeing how she's the provider?" woah i wonder how jin ended up out side your house in the cold!!! wonder who did that guys!!!

Householdhusband!Sukuna + Dad!Sukuna

who somehow convinced you to have a child with him...how? no clue!!

Householdhusband!Sukuna + Dad!Sukuna

who always fight with your child for your attention, you could be back home from work and you see a little mini sukuna and a large sukuna running towards you, with the mini on your leg and the large on your right as they push and pull you from one side to another

(sukuna ends up winning cause hes up against a child why wouldn't he)

Householdhusband!Sukuna + Dad!Sukuna

who doesn't let ANYONE in 'his' kitchen mf like Gordan Ramsay in there, the kitchen is quite literally his sanctuary and won't let ANYONE in regardless of what you are to him, but maybe he'll make expectations just for you and you ONLY.

and guess whos blacklisted from the kitchen? no other than your child seeing how they always play around with sukunas ingredients every time he cooks

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who gets anxious whenever you try helping him cook.. what if you mess up?.. sure he appreciates the fact your helping but he rather do it himself so its quicker and perfect!!

"y/n...your doing it wrong." "move. let me do it." "you didnt put enough of it." "y'know what just go...the kitchen might end up burning because of you." thats alot coming from someone who burnt it down 22th times whenever he tried cooking for the first time....

Householdhusband!Sukuna + Dad!Sukuna

who surprisingly gets along with other moms when he started parenting sessions, he even got some great tips on how to approach you whenever your feeling down did i mention he turned out to be great at gossiping to? And of course Sukuna always updates you on the latest gossip despite not knowing who the gossips about anyway..

Now you have random beef with a girl named Eleanor..

"Wait so if shes upset I shouldn't try comforting or helping her?? How does that make sense??"

"trust us. It'll make things worse. Only help her when she asks to and only comfort her when it really gets bad...buttt when she's on her period there's some exceptions to that rule"

"gosh women so confusing for what reason..."

—

"did you guys hear about Eleanor??"

"which Eleanor?"

"the one who has a kid with her husband that isn't even his"

"eugh. Her... Could you believe she tried striking up a conversation with me while I was out shopping? Don't get too close to me woman don't wanna get infected by whatever Infection she has going on in her mouth"

"Right! Seriously that girl has some real bad breath..."

"did I also mention I saw her out with another man while shopping?"

"no way. Was it Tobias?.."

"Xavier."

"THE BROTHER OF HER HUSBAND OUT OF ALL PEOPLE??"

(based of an actual convo I heard while I was in the mall🔥🔥)

Householdhusband!Sukuna

who HATES. the submissive allegations he gets whenever someone finds out your the man and provider in your relationship

"hey Sukuna since y/ns providing does that mean your the bottom in bed??"

"jin stfu you should NOT be speaking.. acting as if Kaori isn't the provider..."

"that's a different story..."

"this is why I should've eaten you in womb."

"I don't like that joke seeing how you actually almost ate me in it.."

"exactly.

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

Permanent Taglist: @megumisfave

[octuscle]

My professor is such a pain in the ass! I tried turning him into an average dumb college frat guy, but it’s not working!

Whew! Indeed, your professor is a tough nut to crack. He's as stiff as if he'd swallowed a stick. On time like a Swiss watch. And the strictest teacher imaginable. I'll see what I can do. Time is pressing, it's Friday and the exam period starts on Monday.

07:30. Your professor's shiny Volvo rolls into the faculty parking lot. He's always on time to the second. His suit may be cheap, but it's immaculate. And he walks into the staff room with his hair perfectly parted. No one notices the small tattoo on his forearm.

When he arrives at your lecture, it's like a sensation: he's not wearing polished Oxfords, he's wearing sneakers. Pretty cool, pretty expensive sneakers. And WHITE socks! He's never been seen wearing anything like that before. And you swear his stomach is flatter. Normally his jacket always conceals a tummy bulge. But now his silhouette is perfectly slim. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything about his lecture. He's way too fast, firing his questions like a sniper in the direction of the students who weren't paying attention. He's a pain in the ass, and that hasn't changed yet.

During the lunch break, the professor is seen wearing jeans for the first time. Pretty crisp fitting jeans. He really has a tight ass. And damn: Does he actually have a beard shadow? Normally he's always perfectly shaved. You're sitting in the canteen with your bruhs when he approaches you and asks "All gud, bruhs? can one of you give me uh fag? I must have forgotten mine at home…" You are far too surprised not to give him a cigarette. "You're such uh lifesaver, dude," says your professor and asks what you're up to this weekend. You tell him about your plans to go to the sports bar, work out in the gym and maybe take a trip to the beach on Sunday. "Sick thing" replies the professor. "See you around, bruhs!" He leaves you with your mouths hanging open.

The professor leaves the parking lot in his open-top Mustang with loud hip-hop music and screeching tires. You grin broadly. Your plan seems to be working. You are sure of it when you meet the next day at the gym. Your professor has a cool haircut, a stylish beard and looks like he's a regular at the tattoo parlor. You greet each other with a fist bump. And when he takes off his sweaty T-shirt after two hours, you say goodbye with a chest bump. Damn, this guy has a killer body.

On the beach, your prof disappears from time to time with random people and goes to the trunk of his Mustang. Shit, he's selling drugs. Hashish or apparently steroids and other stuff. And at sunset you see him lying on his towel smoking pot while one of the musclemen from the gym massages his nipples. Fuck, the boner in his surfer shorts is impressive. You're very pleased with yourself. You don't need to be afraid of tomorrow. It's a good thing you didn't waste the weekend studying.

Hot picture, you think to yourself on Monday morning when you see your professor's latest post on Instagram. And then you read the caption: "Sicc training 2 start the new wk. Now let's go kicc sum student ass. I luv it when i c the airheads sweating over my exam questions"

Pic found @marechais

[formulaa-1]

Hey did you see that video of Harry Styles and Emrata kissing in Tokyo? I was wondering if you could use this video as inspiration for an Instagram by Horner!reader where everyone thinks she has a crush on Max, but then this video leaks of her kissing Charles, and people are really shocked

*But her kiss with Charles was beautiful, nothing like that embarrassing kiss from Harry and Emily LMAO

instagram au😙 C.L

Horner!reader x Charles leclerc

everyone thinks y/n Horner has a crush on max but they’re proved wrong when a photo surfaces of her kissing a certain monegasque driver.

I didn’t know if you wanted me to use the photo of Harry and Emily but the kiss they had was so messy the photos were bad😭😭I hope this is what you wanted tysm for the request<3

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y/nhorner’s story

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maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: p1 finish in Miami 💪🏼🦁 thank you for all your support.

Liked by y/nhorner , therealgerihalliwell, sophiekumpen and 358,282 others

view all 327 comments

y/nhorner: well done maxie 🫶🏼

maxverstappen1: your my good luck charm👀

y/nhorner: as if you need any luck

user26: erm HELLO?! the flirting!!!???😃

therealgerihalliwell: 🙌🏼🙌🏼❤️❤️

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y/nhorner’s story

caption: max is too busy doing interviews and I’m bored help 😒

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y/nhorner

y/nhorner: life lately 🏁☀️🌊

Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, therealgerihalliwell and 167,863 others

view all 238 comments

rbrfan_33: anyone notice something real sus lately👀…y/n’s been posting max on her story and wishing him good luck and commenting on his posts and now max is liking her pics ,especially with the last photo it makes it even more sus😏

user125: STOP OMFG

fan6: I never even thought about y/n and max but omg I NEED Christian’s reaction to them 😭😭😭

therealgerihalliwell: beautiful ❤️❤️

Liked by y/nhorner

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f1dailywags

f1dailywags: Christian horners daughter y/n and Ferrari golden boy charles leclerc spotted kissing a few days after Sundays race! what are your thoughts and opinions on this ?🏁❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc and y/nhorner

Liked by redbullgirl1, f1fan16 and 12,367 others

view all 286 comments

redbullgirl1: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR NOOOO WEVE LOST HER💔💔💔

fan37: you can hardly even see their faces how do you know it’s them ???

f1dailywags: there’s a video going around too where they were both spotted at the beach walking where you can see their faces🥰🥰

fan37: ohhh okay!

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authors note🎀 this is so bad I hate it but I hope this is what you were thinking ,maybe I’ll do a part 2 ! hope your all okay and looking after yourselves :)

[thecapricunt1616]

BlueBell (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): When Mikey killed himself.. it was easy to say you were a mess. Mikey was the one who coaxed you through Carmys leaving, letting you know it was ok, that he was just ‘bein’ a lil’ bitch’ and he’d come to his senses soon enough. But he didn’t. And Mikey got sicker. And no matter how much you tried, how many times you called Carmy after a hard shift, or after stumbling into Mikey in the back freezer with a fucking disposable tourniquet tied around his arm, nodding off, begging Carmy to come home through your tears. Pleading, sobbing into the phone for minutes at a time that his brother was fucking killing himself - you never got a call back. 

♡ O/S Inspo: Bluebell - Luck, truth and friendship. Incorporate into rituals to comfort those left behind and ease their sorrow. ♡ Summary: Your childhood best friend comes back to Chicago to take over the restaurant that had caused a rift in your friendship, and wants to make it better. ♡ W/C: 4.6K ♡ Posted Date: 05/26/2024 ♡ A/N: Heyyyyy!! Here is my technically second request for my 200 follower celebration that can be found ♡ Here ♡ based on this request from an anon :) please get your requests in folks! This celebration will be running Today (05/26/24) to next Sunday 06/02/24! I am still working on my first request (First date w/ Carmy) the writing bug just bit me in the butt for this one and I haven't ever written for childhood best friend Carmy it was very fun!!! Anyhoot- I hope you enjoy :D ♡ Warnings for BTC: Angsty (but comfort too!) Not edited, No use of y/n (reader is referred to as 'squish'), No use of skin colors / descriptions for reader (pics are for purely vibes!), Typical TW's that come w/ TB (speaking of suicide and all that), reader feels nauseous but never throws up!oh and not all that edited woopsieee haha sorry yall know the drill btp

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had known Carmy a long time. Too long, was what you’d have said when he first moved back to Chicago. He kept in touch with you up until he left, and then it was simply every time your google search alert went off, you got a warmth in your chest knowing he’d accomplished something else. 

It felt strange, not talking to him every day. You'd had a huge fight before he’d ran off to Paris all alone. That was what baffled you, Carmy and alone - didn’t go in the same sentence usually. All middle school, all high school - he was glued to your side. Any time he needed a new assignment because he lost his, you’d go up for him and ask the teacher for a new one. When he needed to return an overdue library book, you’d face the librarian, claiming he’d forgot it at your house and you were too lazy to bring it in until then. Even going up in the fucking lunch line - he literally gave you his lunch pin so he didn’t have to face anyone unnessisarily. 

He’d meet you in the back of the football bleachers, cigarette between his lips that he’d throw out as soon as he saw you (he took to heart how you despised the habit- and he strongly disliked disappointing you) but with a mother, older brother, father, and older sister that smoked nearly a pack a day? He was doomed to pick it up himself. 

“I heard this mornin’ it was-“ 

“Chicken patty’s” you grimace handing him over the foil covered sandwich. “I didn’t get the fries - the geese are gonna have heart failure cus’a’you” you teased, opening your own and digging the 6 crumpled ketchup packets from your pocket, handing him 2 (you got the extra to wolf down the public school garbage because you made the walk up to the line, and all the way outside for him) 

“They deserve a little happiness y’know?! N-no worse than bread- vegetables are healthy!” He teased, taking the sandwich and muttering a little “Ugh” as he unwrapped it and smeared the 2 packets under the bun before closing it. “After school you wanna go T-T’the restaurant w’me?” He took a big bite. It was shit but it was something that got us through the grueling, sticky Chicago spring schoolday. 

“Mmhm” you hummed “parents outta town- Y’can sleep over if you want after. “ you nudge his hip with your own playfully. He’d been content with staying home lately, for whatever reason, but you wanted your Carmy time back. You’d figured you’d give it one more try 

“Uh-“ he started and you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on your dirty old black and white converse “N-Nat needs help w-with-“ 

“Save it” you snip, leaning against the bleachers and staring out at the pond next to the soccer field. He’d been doing this for the past months, when he used to be at your house every day, making up stupid games together and showing you how to cook his family's favorite recipes- lately, he’d just been going straight home after school and didn’t tell you why. 

“H-Hey-“ he reached out, touching your arm gently and you jerked it away. While his touch used to be comforting, now it felt like it burnt. You’d been having a crush on him for years and it felt like the ultimate knife to the gut he couldn’t see it, and didn’t reciprocate it. It hurt even worse it felt like your best friend in the whole wide world (and your only friend) had recently started ignoring you.

“Just don’t, Carmen.” You muttered, taking another bite of your sandwich. “Gotta get t’health.” You said after a few beats of silence, heading back to the school. It was one of the 2 classes once a week you didn’t have together due to your last names, and usually the worst periods of the week. But this time, it felt like a relief. 

That was the last time you’d ever met him for lunch. 3 months before the end of your senior year, and 7 years of being attached at the hip somehow fizzled to nothing more then longing glances in the hallway, and staring eachother down at graduation. 

Your mom and dad were ultimately confused when you told them you wanted to leave as soon as you’d walked the stage, not caring in the least to go to Carmys grad party - and that confused them even more. It just turned into a bratty screaming match started by your teen self, telling them how they had to ‘butt out of your life’ and to ‘Mind their own stupid business!!!’ Even though they were just concerned you were now completely ignoring the boy they had taken in as a son, and were giving him the cold shoulder when since the sixth grade the two of you had been nothing short of inseparable. 

Then - when you had started working at The Beef - as a favor for Mikey, when he had called - asking if you needed a job your first summer off from college, of course you said yes. And then Carmy took that news…. Worse then you could have ever thought. 

The fight you had the night he’d found out in the back alley of The Beef was burned into your memory since it happened. The angry accusations of you ‘having a crush on his older brother and wanting to fuck him since you were in school’ or ‘trying to weasel your way back into his life when he’d made it clear he hated that you were so ‘obsessed’ with him’ it had literally made you throw up in frustration and sadness and utter disbelief when he stomped off, face red and veins bulging in anger. 

The 5 words though that were seared into your brain ‘How fucking could you?, squish?!’ nearly choking on your childhood name, Tears streaming down his flushed pink cheeks. You never knew it would hurt him so badly that you worked at The Beef, you truly thought you were just doing a good favor for a man who was a big brother to you. Not betraying your best friend in the world, the boy you’d loved for so many years. 

You’d tried calling Carmy, only to be met with the generic voicemail message each and every time. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you wished him well, told him how much you missed him, missed your stupid inside jokes - you missed your bear. 

When Mikey killed himself.. it was easy to say you were a mess. Mikey was the one who coaxed you through Carmys leaving, letting you know it was ok, that he was just ‘bein’ a lil’ bitch’ and he’d come to his senses soon enough. But he didn’t. And Mikey got sicker. And no matter how much you tried, how many times you called Carmy after a hard shift, or after stumbling into Mikey in the back freezer with a fucking disposable tourniquet tied around his arm, nodding off, begging Carmy to come home through your tears. Pleading, sobbing into the phone for minutes at a time that his brother was fucking killing himself - you never got a call back. 

The day Carmy had come home, well - the day he started working at the beef. You were there early, per usual. You liked the 6-3:30 shift as you were out before the busiest time of day, and had maintained this shift since college. You had your degrees, you were going to be leaving after you’d graduated to start a real adult life instead of slinging stupid beef sandwiches for less-than-favorable pay - and then Mikey died. And you were the only one who knew how to do the books at the beef, before you taught Natalie. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Mikey was laundering money through the place, but what was a surprise was he left the place to his idiot little brother who’d abandoned his whole entire family to go do his stupid Executive chef-de-bullshit while everyone drowns in Chicago without him. You highly doubted that he would be able to manage the moving of money Mikey had taught you, but Nat was the only sister you’d ever known- so when she sobbed to you after mike died and she found out it was left to Carmy, and begged you to teach him how everything works- you couldn’t deny your big sis.  

“S-squish?” You heard behind you, and you nearly dropped the entire pan of beef you’d chopped into the large pan you were holding to marinate for the day. Your heart felt like it had been replaced with a hummingbird and its wings were beating so hard against your chest you were sure if you turned he would see it in your throat.

“Uh-“ you started, deciding it was better to not look at him, since tears would likely spring to your eyes. What did he look like in real life now? Was he really so…big? Was he really no longer that skinny, awkward little bear you once knew? “N-no one really calls me that- anymore…only Richie.” You grabbed the bowl of pre chopped onions that you’d grabbed from the fridge, tearing off the plastic wrap that had yesterdays date written on it, crumpling it up and dumping the vegetables over the meat before grabbing the bowl of chopped green peppers and doing the same. 

“So I can’t call y’the name I gave you?” He chides, that old edge of playfulness to his tone you missed so much. It made your heart clench. 

“The last person to use that regular was your brother” you said and that quickly shut him up as you mixed together the meat and veggies with a large spoon after adding the pre made spice mix, the last of the pre made spice mix that Mikey had left, tears brimming your eyes at the realization, shaking your head a bit hoping to will them away. 

“Fuck” he said, barely audible. There was a sadness to his tone, easily picked up by you. This was your first love. How could you not remember every single thing about him?! “Squish I’m-“ 

“Just save it. You’re here to work, right?” You looked back at him finally, and your breath nearly got caught in your throat. He was so… tall. You always teased him that he was just a late bloomer, and would grow into himself just like Mikey did - but he would constantly deny it and tell you he’d just be stuck being ‘a shrimp’ forever.

But fuck had he grown. And he has grown well. He finally grew into his nose, which you wanted to immediately poke fun at him for, his lips were still the same pouty thin ones you’d remembered - but his body. It made your mouth water. 

You’d seen it once, as he’d seen yours. You were sophomores in high school, awkward, fumbling teens that agreed to lose your virginity together. But back then he was lanky, hairless, soft. Now? He was a full grown man. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed, sounding like a child scolded but you could barely recognize the tone of his voice now that you’ve met his face. A man. 

“Carmen” you said softly and his eyes met yours again, recognizing the tears in them 

“Don’t cry, squish” he said just above a whisper, “M’sorry…” he admitted, carefully reaching up and thumbing away your tears. 

“Oh Carm” you broke down, dropping the spoon you were holding onto the bowl and practically collapsing into his arms in choked sobs. 

“I know” he said quietly, gently petting your hair just like he did when you were little. 

“He’s dead Carm, where were you? Where the fuck were you? I called you, Bear! He was sick!” you sobbed mercilessly into his shirt, letting everything out you held in at the funeral to maintain your cool for Donna and Sugar since they were blubbering messes.. You could hear the thick tears in his voice when he whispered a strained 

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Squishy- So sorry” 

Your little moment was interrupted though, by a small voice - 

“Hi! Hey- uh..Hello- sorry- I was um…I got a call - yesterday, about an interview, for an um- a Sous position?” your head shot up from Carmys shoulder, seeing a tall brown-skinned girl with braids smiling awkwardly,  eyes flickering between you and Carm, clearly looking uncomfortable. You would be too, you realized - if you walked in to your supposed-to-be interview, to see your potential boss being cried on by one of his employees.

“Shit- uh” he pulled away quickly, walking up to her and extending a hand. You decided to go to the back of the kitchen to the changing area to have a few swigs from your water bottle and calm down. You didn’t need to relish in the sting that was him dropping you so fast for another girl, even if you were short staffed and you did need the help.

You shook your head, wiping over your tears and taking a few large gulps of water. Teach him how to move the money, and quit. Thats all you have to do, easy right? 

No.

Not at all, actually- fucking impossible. 

Carmen had been bad at math, horrible at it  - actually, so teaching him how to run the books - with Richies explicit instructions to not make him aware his Uncle and Brother were washing blood money through the restaurant - so to try and explain why the electric costed 120K a month for a hole in the wall like The Beef was getting frustrating, because when Carmy didn’t understand something- he asked never ending questions until he got it. Thats what had you and Carmy, sitting in the back office together at nearly 8 PM, going over the books for what felt like the millionth time.

“So - so the General electric, lets go over one more time squish - I’m still.. Why would Mike have done that? An-an’ why we payin f’r a system that y’say isn’t workin’ anymore? Cant we just like- negotiate? Ask uncle jimmy t’fix it?” he tapped his pencil on the desk absentmindedly as he looked over the spiral notebook you’d written the monthly ‘bills’ on, trying to explain it to him without giving away anything he didn’t need to know like Richie instructed.

You groaned, rubbing over your face frustratedly and rubbing your temples. He was gonna give you a migraine asking these same god-damn questions. “Bear- i’m tired- my shift ended like…four hours ago! I was supposed to be on a facetime date” you groan, dragging your hands down your cheeks dramatically.

“The hell is a facetime date?” he asked, that gigglyness in his voice he’d take on when he was making fun of you when you were little.

“You lost the privilege of fucking with me when you ran away” you look over at him, a frown unknowingly etched in your features.

He met your eyes, biting at his lip the way he did, blinking a few too many times as he looked down at your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I never was running from you, squish” he said, his voice taking on that softness you fucking hated because you loved it so much.

“Yeah? Sure fucking felt like it- and for your information, a facetime date is a date you do when someone isn’t close enough to go on a real date. So…yeah. Anyway- like I said - the arcade costs-” he cut you off

“So…where’s this guy live?” he questioned. “You really can’t date a guy in Chicago? Y’gotta go f’r long distance?” he asked, a little smirk on his face. The kind that would have had you wanting to crash your lips into his when you were teens, but now it just made you want to cry at all the lost time, what you could have been if you just told him you’d loved him that night, that the reason you accepted the job was so that hed fucking look at you again. 

“Why the fuck does it matter to you? You stopped giving a fuck about me - what, Tell me fancy pants CDC? How long has it been since you gave a fuck” You got up, grabbing your jacket. “Like I fucking said, Carmen, My shift ended hours ago. I’ve explained this to you multiple times. If you’re still too focused on Paris, or- or Copenhagen - Or fucking Noma- to not understand how to run your familys piece of shit? Isn’t that what you called it- huh? Why don’t you go and ask the fucking sibling you have left how to do it, yea? She’s been trying to call you, We all were- but it’s not like you give a fuck- like I said- figure it out, Bear- and consider this my formal fucking 2 weeks. I’m done in this shithole” you threw your wadded up apron at his chest and slammed the office door shut behind you, stomping off to the lockers to gather your things and go the hell home. 

The next week and a half of work felt much like high school. You and Carmy were in the same exact room, forced to work together most of the time - but not a word was exchanged that wasn't absolutely necessary between the two of you. It wasn’t until the night before your last day, he was brave enough to say something to you. It was after closing, you’d picked up a double since 2 line cooks had called out and you already knew how to hold up pace without any training. You could use the money anyway, the pay was absolute garbage - the only reason you ever put up with it was because Michael was family to you. “So uh…” Carmy starts as he put on his plaid coat, shoving his work clothes in his backpack “How was y’r um… facetime date?” he asked, shoving in his chefs clogs last before zipping the bag shut.

You bit your lip, continuing to fill your tote bag with the remainders from your locker. You wanted to just leave as soon as the clock struck 3:30 tomorrow and never look back, forget Carmen was ever a part of your life. Being around him again brought back that sharp ache deep in your chest that you’d picked up in school when you began ignoring eachother, for why? You cant even remember- other then him shrugging you off to hang out that one last time, and you ignoring him the rest of that week, and it just kept going. You realized the first you’d spoken since then was his first day back, and you couldn’t get that fact out of your head. 

“He never texted me back so- yeah” you folded up a pair of work jeans, shoving them in the bag

“Oh- shit- m’sorry, squish. Guys can be real assholes” he replied. And while you know it was supposed to be friendly and him just trying to console you, It really just pissed you off. 

“Yeah- You would know” you grate quietly, continuing to pack your bag. He frowned in that cure Carmy way, shutting his locker and putting his backpack on his shoulder. Luckily the two of you were the only ones there tonight, so no one had to be present for you unpleasant bickering.

“Are you ever gonna hear me out? Er’ you’re just gonna freeze me out forever?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine hurt. But you couldn’t help but laugh coldly, shaking your head.

“Freeze you out? Freeze you out? Well if this week has been anything like the past few years? I hope it feels half as shit as I’ve felt. Glad you’re finally getting the message, I want nothing to do with you. I don’t stay where i’m not wanted, plus- aren’t I just a whore who took a job to make passes at your older brother- who by the fucking way was literally nearly 10 years older then us? That is just…gross Carmy! Mikey was as much an older brother, a fucking protector as he was to you, and to Nat- as he was to me- I loved you! I fucking loved you, Carmy! And you-” You took a shaking breath, turning to look at him and he was pale as a ghost at your admission.

“And you froze me out first, you- you stopped calling, in school carmen all those fucking years ago? You stopped, and - and when I didn’t come to the bleachers you didn’t try to find me! You just-” you met his eyes once again but couldn’t find them as they were squeezed shut and that 17 year old was right back in front of you, nervously shaking his hand and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Fuck- Bear I didn’t mean t-” 

“D-Don’t” he brushed past you, the familiar smell of smoke and pine and sandalwood hitting your nose, the same Cologne Mikey wore. 

“Carmy” you rushed after him as he made a b-line for the office. 

“You’re right, Squish- go home” he rasped, his voice thick with tears and regret. Your heart broke in that moment. Your chest also bubbled with anger, because - you were right?!

“I’m right?” you asked and he sniffled, attempting to shut the door on you but you shoved it open “Look at me - Look at me and fucking tell me that you meant what you said Carmen!” he sat at the desk, burrying his face in his hands and rubbing over it. 

“Just fuck off Squish! I mean it- go!” He was getting louder now, but there it was again, Squish.

“If you meant what you said- call me by my name” You challenge, nudging his sneaker to get his attention, just how you did when his head would be down in english class when he didn’t want to be noticed so he wasnt picked to read out loud.

“What?” he looked up at you finally, his big blue eyes red and tear stained, rims watery and long sandy colored lashes clinging to stray smaller tears. He looked so sad, and you thought again for the first time since he left that night all those years ago, that you wanted to kiss those tears away.

“You- you keep calling me squish” you shrug a bit “If you really mean what you said - if- if you think I got this job to whore around with Michael?! Call me by my real name. The name the rest of the staff call me- the name people who aren’t a fuckin’ Bear call me.” you challange, a lump growing in your throat as he stared you down.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, voice just barely above a whisper. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were pretty sure your heart was gonna fly out of your throat any second- or you were gonna throw up all over the floor and embarrass yourself - 50/50 

“You- you go first, I asked first” You said and he ran a hand through his hair, greasy from the day before digging in his pocket and pulling out a spare quarter 

“Heads er’ tails?” he asked, and you couldnt help but crack a tiny smile. This- this was normal. In high school, when you’d both ask eachother a question and neither wanted to answer first - even though technically the person who asked first should be the first to get an answer, you both decided to let the universe decide who’d be the first to get an answer.

“You gotta be kidding- you remember that?” You leaned on the desk and he looked up at you, panic mostly gone from his eyes and you knew you still had your bear-taming charm as Mikey called it when you were kids, since you were the only other person to be able to calm Carmy down.

“Are you kidding? I remember everything” he retorts “I call heads then” he flipped it and you gasp, smile growing a bit and you nudge his knee with yours, the gesture causing warmth to flood his cheeks as he flips the coin 

“I thought it’s always ladies first?” you teased and he flipped it on to his hand, keeping it covered. 

“Y’re too slow” he cracked a small smile, before revealing the quarter was heads side up and looking up at you expectantly. That heartbeat that could also be vomit reappeared, and your chest got tight. 

“Yes” you said simply, realizing you’d said loved - not love, not a current state of being, even though it never really went away. When he came back that first day, and you were right back to using all your old coded language and laughing over old jokes - you’d realized the love never really died, you’d just shoved it down as deep as it could go.

“Of course I didn’t mean that bullshit, Squish. I was….so fuckin stupid- I was - I am a fuckin idiot. I- I changed my fuckin number and I didn’t bother to load my contacts cause…I thought you hated me - But I- I never stopped…” he met your eyes again. 

Oh god, your heart was really coming out of your throat right now

“Never stopped….loving me? You- you loved me?” you asked bravely, feeling as if you might pass out - or die - or both if he said no. 

He nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the floor ever so shyly, Classic Carmy, the Cowardly Bear

“Well- which- which is it?” you asked, you weren’t going to let his shyness cheat you out of a real answer.

“I- um…I never stopped” he finally met your eyes.

You felt as if you still may pass out, or die, or both at this admission. 

Instead of that though, you leaned in, cupping his stubbly cheeks. His breath hitched, so did yours - you weren’t even sure you were breathing, the last time you’d been this close was - well, Sophomore year of high school , when you both vowed to never speak of it again, since you were both unsure how the other felt - and much too shy to say anything about it in case of rejection or being viewed as ‘weird’ by one another. You leaned in, the smell of cigarettes and mint on his breath from the gum he would chew instead of eating on meal breaks after a cigarette. 

His eyes fluttered shut “I’ve thought about this every day” he whispers, breath fanning your lips gently. You rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes and your noses bumped sweetly. “Can I please kiss you?” he asked, his voice soft and wanting. 

“You don’t have to ask” you said and leaned in, finally meeting his lips. He pulled you closer, you were practically on his lap. It felt as natural as falling into bed at the end of a long day moving your lips with his, your fingers easily finding his curls and combing out the little knots from the day, causing him to groan softly into your mouth. You smiled a bit, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around your waist, slipping his tongue over your bottom lip, you hummed- opening for him and moaning softly as he ran his tongue over yours, enjoying your taste as well as you were enjoying his. He was the same as you remembered, you’d fantasized about doing this with him again every time you got off - or just every time you were daydreaming in general. You weren’t sure who broke the kiss first, but you both needed to breathe, so it was for the best.

“I still love you, too”

[scarletwinterxx]

i might just love you 'til the end - joshua hong imagine

i admit this is very self indulgent, it's my bday and i wanted to write this so here we are🥺🥺😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

A cold bed is not something you expected you'd wake up to on the morning of your birthday. Usually you'd wake up with your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you like your own personal weighted blanket but that wasn't the case today thus prompting you to get up and go look around the house for the said missing boyfriend.

Thinking he might've went to the gym so you didn't expect to see him until later but then you hear some noises coming from the kitchen and some music playing.

Making your way downstairs and to the kitchen, you see Joshua standing with his back to you while holding a spatula in one hand. Too lost in his own world, humming along the tune of Sunday Morning playing in the background.

You smile as you walk towards him, catching him off guard when he suddenly feel a pair of arms hug him from behind.

"Hey, you. You're up early" he says, looking around to catch a glimpse of you

You cuddle against his back, seeking the warmth you missed this morning. He lets you be, knowing how clingy you get when you're sleepy. He doesn't mind it one bit when you sleep on him or fall alseep when you're with him. To him it's an honor, knowing you feel safe around him to fall asleep quickly after you told him you used to struggle with that before meeting him.

Feeling content with the quiet surrounding, he gently sways back and forth as he finishes the stack of pancakes with you still clinging to him.

"You weren't there so I woke up" you mumbled after a while, earning a chuckle from him

"Sorry, I wanted to make us breakfast. I was going to take it up to you but since you're already here, let me set up the table after I finish with the pancakes"

"I'll do it, you finish here" you tell him, giving him a final squeeze before separating from him. Before you can walk away, he grabs you by the arm making you crash back into his awaiting arms

He looks down at you with a smile, eyes locking with your eyes "Happy birthday, my darling"

You grin at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips "Thank you, baby"

"Oh and I got you flowers, that's not my main gift I'll give that later but I hope you like them" he says as he grab the bouquet from the table to pass it to you

"Josh, these are so pretty" you coo at him, "Thank, baby. Really. You don't have to get me anything but I appreciate all the effort, you really do know how to make this day extra special"

"How can I not when my most favorite person is born today. I'm just so happy to be celebrating this day with you"

You put the flowers down to give him another hug, Joshua does the same. Wrapping his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. He can hear your giggles, the sound making all the butterflies erupt in his stomach. He really truly is deeply in love with you.

"You're my favorite person too. I'm so thankful for you" you tell him

He gives your cheeks and your nose kisses before kissing you on the lips, smiling as he takes your breath away like he always does whenever he kisses you.

"Tell me what you want, name it. Anything"

"Really? Anything?"

"Mhm, what do you have in mind?" he asks, noticing the cheeky look in your eyes

"If I say I want to celebrate all of my birthdays like this, us in our kitchen cooking breakfast"

He looks at you, your future together already unfolding in his mind. Of course there's no one else he can imagine spending the rest of his life with but you.

He leans down, capturing your lips once again before answering you

"Consider it done, I'm yours forever my darling"

You smile hearing him say the word forever. For him, you'd believe it actually exists. You'd use all your birthday wishes just to make sure you're going to stay right where you are right now.

"Get ready for a whole day of romantic gestures and all out cheesiness because I'm only getting started" he jokes, putting you down before getting back to cooking

"Wouldn't celebrate this day any other way"

[seiwas]

for your ask! kita and farmers market au where he has a little stand and sells his rice :)

heids!! thanks for playing with me 🥺 this is an adorable au!! shoutout to @mieiri for helping me find pics 🥹

kita + farmers market au

kita joins the farmer’s market on every other sunday of the month.

his rice stall is quaint, barely even a full stall if he’s considering the technicalities. the display on his table consists of baskets of rice, all in varying grains and types, along with a few spices from akane-san, the middle-aged lady he agreed to partner with to help her cut booth costs.

it’s a good partnership, he thinks—he’s learned a fair bit about spiced rice.

business today is as usual: slow in the early morning, but bustling once it reaches 8:30 a.m.; he’s become familiar with the locals just as much as they trust him and the quality of his rice. and everything is as it usually is, except—

“hello,” you approach his booth, your smile a little shy as you gather what to say.

akane-san glances from the side.

in your hands lie two jars of jam, one a deep purple, and the other a bright orange.

he tilts his head slightly to acknowledge you, “good morning.”

you offer the jars of jam while chuckling nervously, “we’re neighbours,” you gesture towards the booth beside his, “this is my first time here, so…”

akane-san rises from her seat, smiling at you graciously, “those look delicious, my dear. you made them yourself?”

you look at her, flustered as you nod. akane-san nudges kita closer, his feet nearly stepping over yours as he inches forward.

“this is very kind of you, thank you,” kita offers his palms for you to place the glass jars on. akane-san reaches for the purple one and pops it open, the scent of wild berries filling the space between you.

she hums, long and delighted. kita smiles softly, “welcome to the market. i’m sure your jams will be a hit.”

.

it’s your sixth farmer’s market now, the fourth one you’ve spent as kita’s stall neighbour. and it’s been nice, having your company around, he thinks.

you are sweet, just as the jams you make are, and you never fail to give him a jar or two before selling even starts.

in exchange, he gives you rice, different grains and different types; he learns about your cooking schedule, and what you intend to cook for the rest of the week, just so he can give you the correct ones.

akane-san tells him that he should ask you out.

“you smile a lot around her,” she mumbles to him as you walk back to your booth. you’d just finished grabbing some lunch with kita during your break.

“it would be rude to frown, akane-san,” he settles back behind the display, hiding his smile.

she tuts, jokingly hitting him on the arm, “don’t be all smart ass with me.”

kita laughs, its sound echoing down to your booth. you turn to his direction upon hearing it and end up locking eyes. much to his surprise, he doesn’t turn away, and instead settles into giving you a smile.

it’s not like he denied what akane-san said anyway.

.

something is different the day kita walks up to your booth with a carton of eggs in his hands instead of rice.

(you’d mentioned something about wanting to try your hand at a quiche—that must be the reason why, you tell yourself).

he stands in front of your booth, shirt tucked in a little more properly than it normally is, and hands over the carton.

“fresh from the farm,” he starts, “thought i’d bring you some.”

“you didn’t have to,” you reach for it gently, your fingertips grazing the dips between his knuckles as you lower your head slightly.

“thank you for your sponsorship,” you add on, teasingly, “i’ll have to let you try the quiche now, once i make it.”

he laughs, waiting as you take your time opening the carton.

and when you do, the look on your face makes him wish he captured the moment. maybe with that polaroid camera atsumu gifted him last christmas.

inside the carton of eggs is a small cluster of flowers, handpicked (you can tell) and joined together by knotted grass.

(it’s sweet, you think, that there are even a few stems of a rice plant in the mix.)

the expression on your face is a mixture of confusion and surprise, and kita has never been one to be flustered or nervous for anything, but—

“i,” he clears his throat, “have been meaning to ask, actually,” another cough. your stare shoots straight into his nerves.

“would—“ you begin.

“would—“ he manages to say at the same time.

you both giggle, and he clears his throat again, reaching his hand out, “sorry, please go first.”

(the sentence forms itself in your mind, and you stare at the flowers again, a glimpse of courage, before you speak—)

“would you want to make some quiche with me?”

and kita smiles. is ‘no’ even an answer to anything you ask?

[luvhughes43]

the proposal & the engagement

[blake hughes au]

request(s): Nico and Blake. Can u do something where Nico ask her to marry him? Maybe when they win the Stanley cup? & Nico proposing to Blake! Maybe at the lake house or in Switzerland?

word count: 1.4k

the past few games were tight, and blake could feel the tension in her body as she watched the periods drag on. the devils needed this win to take the cup, and the energy in prudential echoed the importance of the game.

"i think i'm going to be sick," blake announces as nico jumps onto the ice in the third period. "we're so close," she says, squeezing the hands of jesper bratts girlfriend.

"i don't think i can watch," one of the other wags replies before throwing her hands up in front of her face.

before anyone else can succumb to their nerves, meier shoots the puck into the back of the net and the arena erupts into cheers. "theres still two minutes left!" blake shouts, locking arms with the girls beside her. they were all wrought with anxious nerves and energy, that the only thing they could think of doing was hold onto each other.

the rest of the game goes by quickly, and it's announced that the devils won the game. "they did it!" blake screams, jumping up with the rest of the girls. she quickly grabs her phone, making sure to take a quick few shots of nico and her brothers celebrating their win.

soon enough, blake and the families were brought onto the ice. there wasn't a second to congratulate her brothers before nico scooped blake up in his arms.

"we did it, schatz" nico beams with excitement as he hoists blake up into the air. she wraps her legs around his waist easily, the words "Hischier 13" proudly on display across the back of her jacket.

"i'm so proud of you," blake cries, pulling away from nico's neck to kiss him. "you played so good... i love you... that was so hot..." she speaks between enthusiastic kisses.

when they finally calm down a little and blakes set back on her feet, nico makes blakes heart start racing again. "marry me," he says simply, as if it's the most normal thing to ask after winning the stanley cup.

"what?" blake gasps, her hands never loosening from around his waist.

"marry me, please schatz" nico repeats, a doopy smile etched across his face.

blake squeals, and repeatedly nods her head in approval. "yes - yes of course i'll marry you!" she removes her hands from around his waist and instead places them on both sides of his cheeks. nico leans forward and softly kisses blakes pillowy lips before theyre dragged apart by excited family members - nobody but themselves aware of the proposal.

∞♡

a few days later, when they are no longer hungover and exhausted, blake brings up the proposal again. "you know, when you propose there's usually a ring..." she teases.

nico looks at her softly and blake swears she could melt with the intensity of his beautiful brown eyes. "it's coming, i have plans set up" he assures her, opening up his arms which she gladly walks into.

she lays her head on his chest, "a double proposal... this is very intense,"

"nothing but the best for you," he kisses the top of her head, ignoring the mess of suitcases and clothes strewn around their room for their upcoming trip to switzerland. "i can't wait to give you the ring," he kisses her again.

"i'm waiting happily.. just don't take too long. i cant wait to 'officially' be your fiancée," blake leans up to look nico in the eyes once more.

"you won't have to wait long, i'm too excited to be your fiancé" nico smiles.

∞♡

blake.hughes

📍 valais, switzerland

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 42 871 others

blake.hughes sundays <3

tagged: nicohischier

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nicohischier waking up next to u is my favourite part of the day❤️🌞

jackhughes did not need to see the first pic but its nice that u two are having fun!

lhughes_06 sundays <3 at the lake house pls im bored

jackhughes missing ur dad ?

lhughes_06 that was a long time ago.. it's time we moved on

lucahischier no tag but im right there in the 2nd pic...

bestie ur glowing !!

user07 mom and dad are in switzerland🫡❤️

user51 she looks so happy ugh i will never get over them😭🫶

user23 the last pic.... ohhh blakes been feeding us for YEARSS

the first week in nico's hometown goes by in a blur. every relative, close friend, and neighbour wanted to congratulate nico and there were lots of catching up to do after the long and tiring season.

also, blake was proud to announce that her german speaking skills have gotten so much better of the course of the 4 years she and nico have been dating. it was relief knowing that she could keep up with his families conversations - even if she still wasn't the best speaker.

they had been so busy the first week that blake didn't notice her family suddenly going ghost for the 12ish hours it took to fly to switzerland. nor did she really notice the excited glances shared between nico's family as they wished them off on their hike.

∞♡

"nina's so sweet. she's been teaching me more german while you were hanging out with friends earlier and i really think i'm starting to understand better," blake explains as she trails behind an overly excited nico. "i just need to work on my speaking and pronunciation.. but each time i hear you guys talk i swear i'm getting it! i think by next summer if i keep practicing i'll be able to have full conversations,"

nico looks back at blake with nothing but pride. "i love you,"

she laughs, "i love you too?"

suddenly, they were both standing on top of a gorgeous mountain with the sun shining on both of them. as expected, blake steps forward to admire the view. "after all these years coming up here, i don't think i'll ever get used to it," she enthuses, and nico hums from behind her as he gets down on one knee.

"aw, nico look there's a dog all the way down there-" blake turns around and gasps. even though she was expecting another proposal with a ring this time, she's still surprised.

"blake, last time i wasn't as prepared as i shouldve been," nico chuckles nervously and blake giggles. "these last few years have been a dream and i can't imagine not waking up next to you or not wanting to spend all of my time with you. youre my best friend and i love you so much. will you officially agree to marry me?" nico asks, holding out the ring box and opening it slowly.

"of course i'll marry you," blakes voice is muffled as she drops her hands away from her mouth. "i love you so much," she cries, holding onto nico tightly when he finally stands up.

when they pull apart, he slides the beautiful gold diamond ring onto her finger.

∞♡

"congrats you guys!" jack shouts as soon as the front door of hischier house opens.

"youre here?" blake cries out, palms digging into her eyes as happiness floods through her.

"sweetie congradulations," ellen speaks softly into blake ear as she brings her daughter forward into a bone-crushing hug. "show me the ring," she asks happily, and blake gladly obliges.

"i can't believe you guys are all here," blake sniffles, looking up to see her brothers - trevor included - and her immediate family.

"i'd never miss your engagement goldie," trevor jokes as he slings an arm around blakes shoulders. "you did good," blake glances over at her fiancee who was talking animatedly with his friends and family - recounting the proposal to the fine details.

"i know," blake smiles sappily and turns to her oldest brother.

"i'm proud of you, goose" quinn teases but blake can see the tears lining his eyes. "you're so grown up now," he breathes out, pulling his sister into a hug that jack and luke aren't shy of joining.

over her brothers shoulders she spots her dad next to nico's and she excitedly flashes them her ring.

∞♡

blake.hughes

📍 valais, switzerland

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and 57 012 others

blake.hughes future mrs 🤍

tagged: nicohischier

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nicohischier my beautiful bride 💍 i love you ❤️

ninahischier love you two so much !!! congratulations💘

jackhughes brother in law secured

_quinnhughes congrats you guys!❤️

trevorzegras can't believe youre actually engaged (i was literally there) 😭😭😭

bestie i'm. sobbing. so. hard.

user09 did he propose while hiking?? omgg too cute😭

user63 OMFG?? OMFG??? OMFG???

user14 they're engaged😭😭😭

-

-

-

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XI)

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu today: a dinner with Sam and Frank… I’ll let you guess how well this will go… (I hope my choice for Andrew's pic for this chapter gives you a clue...)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2933

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Hesitate to call

Lived to see you throwing Me aside. That fought Like nettled fish inside me. Saw you throbbing In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see That all that all flushed down The refuse. Done? It lives in me. You live in me. Malignant. Love, you ever want me, don’t.

Louise Glück, The First Five Books of Poems

Andrew checked his appearance in the mirror for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

He was nervous beyond reason, after all he was heading to a restaurant to see Sam. And after a long-term relationship, he shouldn’t have felt so troubled by it. But things were different now, things were… complicated, to say the least.

Still, he heaved a sigh, checked his appearance once more. He had let his hair loose, had put on contacts, was wearing a black shirt and some dark jeans. He looked tired, exhausted even. Work was a lot at the moment, he had a thousand things to do. He still struggled to sleep, was still tortured with thoughts and dreams of Sam, of her leaving, of her loving someone else.

November was ending, and with it, the remnants of Andrew’s and Sam’s plans. Plans…

A weekend in Kerry in September. Saimhan with friends. Now, Andrew should be packing. He should be choosing clothes, not for an evening in a restaurant, but for a weekend in Glasgow. A flight late at night leaving from Dublin, another one during the night between Sunday and Monday. And in between, a couple of days just for them, spent eating, visiting museums, seeing the sights, walking around the town. A night in a hotel, one she had chosen, spent on filling their hearts with love and their bodies with lust and desire.

He looked at his reflection again, stared right into his own hazel eyes. They were greener than usual, probably because wearing contacts made his eyes water. He would have been more comfortable with glasses, more relaxed as well, more himself, in a way.

He blinked tears away as a thought crossed his mind, a painful one he wished he could have kept at bay, but he didn’t have the strength for that. Beating himself up was a habit, since childhood. There were thoughts sometimes that formed in his mind that brought him pain, but he listened anyway. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were deafening. These days they were loud and clear.

He went to get his coat, grab his car keys, get ready to leave. He petted Elwood, told him to be a good boy, that he would soon be home. The thought followed him outside his home.

Being himself was never enough for Sam to love him.

Christ, Sam was so beautiful…

It was breaking his heart that they weren’t on a date. As he entered the restaurant, saw her sitting at a table waiting for him, Andrew was reminded of hundreds of evenings spent like this, going on a date in a restaurant, at the cinema, it didn’t even matter where. At the end, they didn’t go out much anymore. Sam always seemed to be too busy for that. At the time, Andrew thought it was only because of her job. Now, he wondered if maybe she had not already started to give up on them.

But he hadn’t. To this day, he hadn’t given up on them…

He kept on admiring her for a few more seconds, until the rest of the table was revealed to him, and the illusion waned. You were there too, facing Frank. The restaurant was posh, he felt a little uneasy in this atmosphere. He wouldn’t have chosen such a place for a date, but he had no doubt that Sam liked it.

He forced a smile as he approached, was greeted warmly by Frank, the first one who spotted him as he approached. You turned on your chair to greet him with a relieved smile, and his heart made a happy jump at the sight of you. He had an ally tonight, he wasn’t on his own…

“You’re late.”

He turned to Sam, his heart dropping again. Her tone was flat, emotionless, and he knew her enough to be aware that it was worse than annoyance. She was angry. He struggled to swallow.

“Yeah, sorry… Had some stuff to take care of before coming.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was a lie. Or well, it wasn’t a lie, but the real reason was simply that Andrew was always late. To everything. He couldn’t do much about it; if left unattended, he simply lost track of time. The alarms he had set up had done little to help him tonight. He didn’t add anything, merely took a seat.

“Ha, no worries!” Frank reassured him, and Andrew could tell that he was nervous and willing to make Andrew feel welcome. As a result, Andrew was highly uncomfortable.

“The food looks… interesting,” you commented, trying to drag the conversation away from Andrew, and he was grateful for it.

“The oysters are particularly good!” Frank recommended.

You said nothing, but Andrew frowned.

You… hadn’t you told him once that you weren’t such a fan of seafood?

Indeed, when you chose what to eat, you didn’t follow Frank’s advice at all.

Conversation drifted towards work, and your respective lives. Catching up or getting to know each other.

And Andrew understood Frank’s appeal tonight, as he watched him lead the conversation. He was louder than Andrew ever was, bright, clearly extraverted, longing for people’s attention. He was funny, charming. And handsome, that too, Andrew couldn’t deny that either. His complete opposite. Average height, muscles that threatened the fabric of his sleeves while he passionately talked about his work and moved his hands around, blond with electric blue eyes.

So… that was what Sam longed for? What had made you fall for him?

Andrew tried not to think this way. There was nothing he could do about his physical appearance, his ridiculous height, his gangly stature… there was no need to torture himself over that. He could show that he took care of Sam though. That he paid attention to her. That he loved her…

Because Frank didn’t seem to care all that much. Andrew saw it as you talked about your work, about how nervous you were as you got ready to give your students their first test of the year. And if Andrew was intently listening, Frank was clearly uninterested. He drew the conversation away from your job as soon as he could, offering encouraging words, and quickly moving on. You smiled, but you weren’t fooled. Andrew saw it in the way your gaze saddened, in the way the excitement that had been glimmering there died out instantly. His heart ached at the sight. And when Frank spoke again, Andrew didn’t care.

“Will you set a limit for the length required for the essay?”

Frank grew quiet, frowned. You turned to Andrew, clearly surprised by his question.

“Erm… I haven’t decided yet. I usually don’t.”

“Once a student gave me a twenty-pages long essay…”

“Twenty pages?!”

“Yeah… she was thorough, for sure.”

“Did you read the whole thing?”

“Of course. And now I set a limited word count.”

You chuckled, nodded.

“Maybe I should do that. What about your class about Yeats? Have you decided on a subject for an essay?”

“I’m still hesitating… I want to prepare one about Yeats’s involvement in the Irish Literary Revival… but I could choose one of his love poems about Maud Gonne too.”

You chuckled.

“Why do I feel like they’ll hear a lot about No Second Troy…”

“I love that poem.”

“Anyone who speaks of literature with you for more than ten minutes knows that,” you teased. “It’s a short poem to study, though.”

“Yeah… but that means they would really have to work on each line, instead of simply skipping whatever element they struggle with.”

“True.”

“I feel like it would be easier for them to work on the more political side of Yeats’s work during exam season. The material is easier, and we’ll go thoroughly through the most important aspects of these texts in class. So… I think I’ll ask them to work on love poems at home.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

You exchanged a smile. When Andrew looked up at Frank and Sam, they had stopped listening and were both eating their meal in silence. Sam was looking at something on her phone, a habit she had developed in the past couple of years.

She hadn’t asked him about his job. She hadn’t asked him if he wrote, how he felt, if he was suffering because of her. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear his answers. Perhaps she didn’t really care. Andrew was starting to have doubts. The more the evening was progressing, the more he realised that she didn’t seem to care. Sam and Andrew had spent years together, but she wasn’t listening as he spoke of his work, of the things he loved most on Earth.

Did she even care at all about him anymore? She used to listen to him talk about music and poetry for hours, back when they were students…

Or did she? She had never liked his own writing, but he thought she listened when he spoke of what he loved, still. She didn’t seem willing to make an effort these days… but then again, they weren’t together anymore. So, why would she?

“I’ve listened to your record, by the way!”

Andrew blinked, looked at you again.

“What?”

“Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. I’ve listened to it.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Did you? Really?”

You nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

“Of course! I’m going to sound very basic, I think In a Sentimental Mood was my favourite… although I really loved My Little Brown Book too.”

His mouth broke into a bright grin.

“Grand! Like… that’s grand! I’m glad you liked it.”

Frank stared at you for a moment.

“Who are you talking about?” he asked, trying to slither in the conversation.

“Andy recommended me some music! I have a whole list at this point,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow and making him chuckle and blush.

“It’s Jazz,” Andrew explained. “Some of the greatest, honestly.”

Sam heaved a sigh, still focused on her screen.

“Oh… nice,” Frank nodded, although he didn’t sound convincing at all.

“I really liked it a lot,” you went on. “I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe it, like… on a technical point of view, you know? But I liked it. It was very… like… drawing me in, in a way. There was tension, and then once I was trapped in the song, there was so much emotion there… And it’s unusual for me to be so focused when listening to instrumental music. I have a busy brain, I get distracted easily.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a busy brain too… but that’s what Blues and Jazz do to me. They kind of… shush my brain. Make it go quiet.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You like music, then, Andy?”

Andrew looked at Frank again, wanted to correct him and ask to be called Andrew… but he didn’t want to seem rude. He didn’t like it, though, how he used his nickname.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Andy wanted to be a musician, back in the days,” Sam intervened, putting her phone down again.

“Really? What instrument do you play?”

“I sing, mostly… play guitar too.”

“But you didn’t make a career out of it? Not that it’s surprising, it’s a tough field to work in. Most people can’t make a living out of it. Like… there’s so much competition, so few who actually get to make it. It must be a tough life.”

“A few of his friends made it though, and he had the talent for it,” Sam went on. “But Andy is not one to compromise easily.”

Andrew stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged.

“You could have had a record deal, had you accepted to change a few things about your songs.”

Andrew huffed, he could barely believe his ears…

“There was never an opportunity for me to record my own songs, and you know that. I didn’t want to sing those… attempts at pop hits that felt soulless to me.”

“And you didn’t get a record deal.”

“I didn’t want that kind of deal. I wanted to record the songs I had written.”

She didn’t say a thing, but her thoughts were loud enough for Andrew to guess them.

And then you didn’t record any of those either.

“Why are you saying all that like you’re resenting me?” Andrew asked, and Sam shook her head.

“I don’t resent you, of course! It was your choice.”

“You do sound like it though…”

“I’m just pointing out that you’re not the kind of guy who compromises much.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and huffed again.

“You’re one to talk…” he mumbled.

Andrew spent his time compromising. Had he not compromised when he wanted to take a job in London and had settled for Dublin instead because she didn’t want to move there? When she refused to move in with him and asked for more time to find herself? When she chose most of their topics of conversations? When he barely talked about his work?

He let out a long exhale, took a bite of the overpriced fish he had ordered. He didn’t even like the food…

Sam spoke again, about some stupid tv reality she had been watching with Frank, and you listened even though you hadn’t seen it. Meanwhile, Andrew wanted to talk about music with you again. He wanted to ask you about Duke Ellington, he wanted to ask you what songs you liked, he wanted to listen to you ramble about how music made you feel. Your thoughts were always interesting, he could have talked with you for hours… and sometimes he did.

But he shook himself. He wanted Sam. He wanted to have Sam back, and nobody was perfect. There were some things in Sam that annoyed him or disappointed him or that he didn’t understand but at the end of the day she was Sam, and that was enough for him.

He was quieter throughout the rest of the evening, trying to do some damage control over the couple of tensed moments that had occurred during the night.

But then the conversation settled on the wedding itself, and things turned ill all over again…

“And we need to settle on a cake too! Christ, everything is complicated when you’re planning a wedding!” Sam laughed, while Andrew was tightly closing his fists under the table, until his nails drew crescent marks into his palms, while you looked away in a hurry.

“You know… I thought we could choose a strawberry cake,” Frank said. “It’s a classic, most people like those…”

“Sam is allergic to strawberries,” Andrew answered without thinking.

An uncomfortable silence settled across the table.

“Oh… you didn’t tell me that, babe,” Frank told Sam, who frowned.

Clearly, she had told him before, but she said nothing.

“Well, we’ll choose something else!” Frank shrugged.

“What about your career, then?” you asked your ex, staring intensely at him.

“My career?”

“You… you used to say that you wanted to wait to get married because you needed to focus on your career.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“Yeah… that’s true. I used to want that. But… it’s different with Sam.”

Andrew saw the pain that shot across your features. There was so much anger that ran through his veins then…

“Right,” you nodded.

“Like… my work seemed the most important, but now… not anymore. Or… not in the same way. So, why wait?”

“Why wait, indeed…” you slowly nodded while Frank and Sam exchanged a tender gaze, one that made Andrew nauseous.

He looked down at the piece of cheesecake he had barely touched, decided not to eat it. He couldn’t get anything more down…

The meal ended in a quiet mood, with conversations spent mostly between Sam and Frank, but the couple seemed satisfied with this situation. When they disappeared in a cab together, Andrew felt emptier than ever. A shell without a pulse or any other semblance of life…

“Andy?”

He turned around to look at you standing behind him in the street, right before the restaurant. Your frame was illuminated by both the white light coming from the restaurant’s sign and the orange hues of the streetlights.

He caught himself thinking that you were beautiful, had to push the thought away. But you were. You had dressed up tonight, undoubtedly to impress Frank, just like Andrew had tried to impress Sam with his careful choice of outfit. And Andrew was impressed, at any rate. You were gorgeous…

You offered him a humourless smile.

“Tonight was… a lot, right?”

He nodded, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“You can say that…”

“I can’t say that it went… incredibly well.”

“No… it was… strange.”

“Let’s put it that way, yeah.”

“I’m not sure it helped us make any progress.”

“I’m not so sure either. On the contrary. But we tried, at least.”

Andrew nodded, looked at you as you heaved a sigh.

“You know what I want right now?”

He shook his head, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to speak again, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“I really… really… want to get drunk. Like… hammered. Properly destroyed.”

Andrew exploded with laughter.

“You know what… sign me up! Getting very drunk sounds nice!”

“Let’s go to my place. I don’t want to be surrounded by people anymore,” you offered, and Andrew easily accepted.

As he followed you throughout the street, he reckoned that at least one thing in this evening could be pleasant, after all.

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that. 

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars. 

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits. 

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them. 

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair. 

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town. 

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible. 

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv. 

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants. 

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house.  He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night. 

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together. 

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care. 

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister. 

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Masquerade of the Sinners

pairing: ???!Joshua x fallen angel fem!reader

genre: smut. minors dni.

warnings: praise, dirty talk, mentions of incubus powers, unprotected sex (stay safe), creampie, sub!reader, dom!shua, religious imagery and defilement (again), making out, manhandling, spanking, squirting, overstimulation, hair pulling, mentions of blood and murder

word count: ~1.4k

summary: keeping up the appearances to deceive humans is joshua's expertise. but you have become the perfect apprentice, the mask of innocence bearing no cracks for the humans to gaze upon.

Author's note: hello beloveds <3 had a sudden burst of inspo thanks to the shua pics from the latest fansign and decided to expand a little on Fall From Grace :)

taglist: @junkissed @shuadotcom @bitchlessdino @duhnova

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Another Sunday, another successful preaching from the altar.

A few months ago, Joshua was gagging at the idea of faking the role of a young and kind priest, devoted to God and His words. 

But now? After exposing himself to you and defiling you in a way only his kin know best, his daily life has become way more interesting.

It’s as if the bells of Apocalypse have rung in the Heavens and the archangels decided to send horde after horde of angels to execute him. Yet every single attempt has proven futile, with the heavenly creatures ending up lifeless in a pile of blood and pearly white feathers or breathless and full of his seed.

What’s even more amusing to him is that none of the puny humans around him have caught wind of his true nature.

“Hm. How foolish.” He chuckles to himself as he closes the small Bible in his hands. He goes to the small room where he keeps his robes and the rest of the books he uses for various ceremonies and other church activities.

Speaking of activities, he still despises the choir sessions. The gospels echoing from the mouths of the choir members and bouncing off the walls of the church always give him a headache, to the point of nosebleeds.

However, seeing some of the girls attend the choir just to ogle at him and purposefully wait during after hours to talk to him in private or for…other matters makes the whole choir experience a little more tolerable.

“Aren’t you tired of fooling around with these human weaklings, Joshua?”

You stand against the closed gates, leaning your back on the heavy wood.

Joshua’s lips curl into a wicked smirk. “Good evening, my dear. What brings you here tonight?”

“You know fully well why I’m here, you demonic creature.” You walk towards the altar and reach in front of him.

“Ah, of course. You want revenge for losing your status, don’t you?”

“Not just that.” You grit your teeth.

“What else then?” He asks, feigning innocence.

You gulp audibly, shame washing over your body when you remember the first time you let him ravage you like prey caught in a trap. 

You lift your shirt and lower your pants just enough to show him the two incubus tattoos engraved on your lower pelvis - a small heart surrounded by thorns and a star underneath their junction, connecting to another, larger heart with horns protruding. 

Joshua licks his lower lip hungrily. “So that is what you’re talking about.”

“You need to remove this, now.” You demand with a steady voice.

“I’m afraid I cannot do this, sweetheart.” He glues his eyes on you, irises glowing red. “The marks of an incubus are permanent once placed upon another body.”

“Liar, you were the one who put those marks in the first place! You must know how to take them away!” You raise your voice at him.

“The only way to not have these marks is to withstand and push away the charms of an incubus, Y/N. And as far as I remember, you did nothing of the aforementioned.” 

You feel your body lighting up on fire all of a sudden, heat starting to pool in your panties. No, he can’t be right.

“That’s the Gaze. Once someone looks at you lustfully, your entire body is immediately aroused.” Joshua explains.

“M-Make it stop.” Your voice comes out weaker than it was supposed to.

“I can make it stop for a while. But are you sure you want me to, pretty angel?”

You barely manage to suppress a whimper before pulling Joshua’s body flush to yours, smashing your lips to his with a carnal fervor. 

The last time you experienced this type of fervor was when he exposed his true nature to you.

Joshua moans in your mouth and wraps his tongue around yours, his arms grabbing your waist to manhandle you towards the altar.

He breaks the kiss and pins you on the sacred place, tracing his fingers over the larger mark.

“The one below is Trigger. There are two phrases I can say to you, each one with different effects.”

“W-What phrases are they?” You ask meekly.

“I already used the first one, angel. It was just to make you a tad bit hornier. The other one will just seal the deal.” He takes off his robes and reveals his chiseled body, along with his demonic horns.

“Joshua, s-stop making me beg already!” You kick your legs at him, but he grabs them by your thighs and reaches for the hem of your pants, pulling them down until they are completely off your body.

“That will happen too, sweetheart. But I wanna have fun with you first.”

He turns you around and pushes your head down on the altar, running his hands over the curve of your ass.

“For a fallen angel, you have an ass that would make even a succubus jealous.” He spanks your ass twice and then runs his hands over your back, raising your shirt to expose the scars on your back, where your wings once existed.

“You have been so good at blending in with the humans here and attending church every Sunday like a good little lamb, listening to my preachings as if I was your God.”

You let out a loud moan as you clench around emptiness, wetness starting to drip down your thighs. Joshua rips them in half with his hands and takes out his cock, rubbing the tip between your folds.

“Shua, please, fuck me, please!” You grip the edge of the altar, begging for something inside you.

Joshua lets out a deep chuckle. “Can’t deny you when you beg so prettily.” 

He slams his cock inside you with one fluid thrust, your thighs shaking from feeling full in a split second.

“You’re taking me even better than last time, little angel. I’m impressed.” He leans his torso on your back, caging you between the cold surface and his body. “You are just so good at everything, aren’t you?”

“T-Thank you, thank you so m-much, Shua.” You answer between short sobs, body jerking forward with each thrust he delivers.

“It’s so rewarding to see you don the pretty mask of the kind newcomer who is so pure and innocent, as if you were the new guardian angel of this town.” He grips your hair and pulls it violently. “Only for me to crush it into millions of pieces every night on this damn altar, like I’ve done with your former brothers and sisters.”

Under different circumstances, you would have driven a blade of Empyrean steel through his skull, but the nearly mind-numbing pleasure has made you a pliant mess in Joshua’s hands.

And you consciously love it.

It could be the marks on your body, but ever since you fell from Heaven, you’ve been craving his touch, his gaze, his voice, his everything.

“There is something about you that makes me want to keep you for myself, away from any living being, be it human, angel or even demon.” He admits between pants, a clear signal of his impending orgasm. 

“S-Shua, I- n-”

“I know, angel, I know.” He pants and lets go of your hair to wrap his arms around your torso and lift it off the altar, flush to his chest.

“I’m cumming!” You scream on top of your lungs, voice echoing in the empty church as you reach your climax and squirt all over the altar. Joshua doesn’t stop pistoning his hips against your ass, overstimulating you on purpose.

“You look so hot when you make a mess in God’s house, little lamb.” He moans in your ear and cums inside you, painting your insides white with his load. His hand caresses the glowing womb tattoos, the red sheen matching the one emitting from his hellish eyes.

You turn your head around and kiss him, teeth and tongue messily clashing with each other.

“I c-cannot see God anymore.” You confess breathlessly.

Joshua gives you a sardonic smile as he slips out of you and rolls you on your back so you can face him in all of his glory, his cum staining your legs.

“Your God stands in front of you, little lamb.”

[hwathinker]

"we don't have to do it here.."

pairing ; idol! boyfriend!hongjoong x non idol! fem!reader warnings ; this is def smut(mdni), humping, public sex (studio), y/n is bein mad clingy <3, y/n is being called noona by the members (you're 25!) wn ; these pics of joong came across my pint and i've been thinking abt it the whole day omg // lmk if there's any errors or something i forgot to put in the warnings!:)

sunday, 1:44pm

"joongie, i don't think you're paying attention to your bunny!" you whined. "sorry love, something was up- yunho! fix the timing please, you're not supposed to sing it like that." hongjoong was in between talking to you and working his ass off. well, not exactly talking.. but he's trying his best to pay attention to you, wearing a cute lingery, and a.. mito headband he got from somewhere in the company? it left him speechless and hard when he picked up your facetime. but still, he can't be talking right now since its his working hours. "joongie! take your eyes off of them for a while and talk to me.." you yelled through the phone, making hongjoong switch his gaze back to you again. he loves it when you're teasing him, but not at this time..

"sweetheart, please i'm in the middle of work right now. can't we continue our business later when i come home?" hongjoong talked as if he's not looking at your visible boobs prettily sitting in the small lingery. "stop licking your lips while watching my body if you don't want me to annoy you joongie.." you said, bringing the phone up close to your face as you pouts. hongjoong just laughed, leaning to his chair. "well, if you're that bored in the apartment you can go here and chill with me." he said. you quickly got up, "really?! you're letting me watch you work now?" you said excitedly. hongjoong smiled, watching you quickly get off your lingery and pick your clothes. honestly the best decision ever. really.

sunday, 2:36pm

"noona! you're here? i haven't seen you in long!" wooyoung's voice was loud enough for hongjoong to hear in the recording room along with yunho and mingi sitting at the sofa waiting for him to fix something. "aren't you going to run to your girlfriend outside?" yunho asked, playing his phone as he teasingly smile. "she'll know where i am, its alright." hongjoong said. he was too focused in his job that he can't get up from his seat to welcome you. you, on the other hand, brought some kimbap with tteokbokki on your way here before taking a cab. "where is joongie? i need to see him!" you asked seonghwa, who's eyes was glued to the food inside the paper bag. "oh, he's in the recording room. i think he's rehearsing with yunho." he said. you nodded and thanked him as you ran to the recording room.

as you open the door, you greeted with happiness. "joongie! i'm here, watcha doing?" you excitedly hop to him, finally seeing your boyfriend up close since this morning. "hahah, joongie? aww joongie..!" the boys at the back mocked, giggling to themselves. you were fine that they're making fun of his nickname. but its about hongjoong right now. and he doesn't like it. "babe, please don't use that name.. you hear them laughing about it at the back right?" hongjoong said, giving you a hug. you sat on a chair beside him, putting the paper bag on your lap. "so you're not gonna be my boyfriend today?" you pouts, looking down to the food. "no, no honey. i love the nickname but its just that the boys.." hongjoong push his chair to get closer to you, holding both of your shoulders. you look up to him, smiling widely. "by the way joongie, i got you and your friends some foods." you quickly grab the tteokbokki and kimbap that was wrapped in a foil out, putting it on the table. "did you walk on your way here?" hongjoong asked. "no, i took a cab after i bought these."

you and hongjoong along with the others ate together, laughing and joking around while enjoying each others presence. its been so long since you had times like this with them. "by the way hongjoong, why don't you get y/n noona to record with us? you know, get the hidden vocals in our songs!" wooyoung said, pointing at you. when woo said that, you quickly bat your eye on joong, looking at him almost choking on his food. "okay, i get that you want to spend more time with your noona and it would be cool if she has a part in the hidden vocals but wouldn't our producer notice that we have a random girl's voice?" he said. they all then looked at wooyoung making him shrug his shoulder and a furrowed eyebrows. "what?"

you all finished eating an hour ago, you're now watching them working with their vocals and repeating a specific part whenever it doesn't sound like how they want it. "pleaaaseee joongie, let me have my part in the song" you begged, pulling on his shirt. hongjoong simply didn't let you do so, replying your beggings with "nope" "nah" "y/n i said no". then you gave up, slamming your body to the chair. hongjoong then turned to you, hands placed under his cheek as he leans in his palm. "why won't you understand that you can't be in our song? that's like.. adding a non member.. you know." he didn't know how to explain but he hoped you'd understand instead. you fold your arms together, eyes glued to the recording room watching jongho throw a thumbs up to you and you simply just nod with a smile. "honey, its not that i don't want to okay?" hongjoong swoops closer to you, trying to unfold your arms and hold your hand. you were quick to push his hand away, glaring at him. "okay, won't bother you then. might as well take back about putting you in the song-" "sorry." you were already in front of his face when he turned to you again, leaving him surprised by the sudden act. "don't do that man!"

you ended up doing the hidden vocals, singing it a hongjoong asked you to as its already been written in the lyric paper. "yeah noona that's what i'm talking about!" mingi said from the other room hongjoong was in. you smiled at them when you finished one part. "you're lucky i don't bite when it comes to my girlfriend." hongjoong said when he saw you smiling to the others, rewinding your part back and doing something with it before asking you to record again. "joongie when are we starting again?" you asked through the mic in front of you while looking at him. "in a second, love." he said. "ew, we should leave." seonghwa said, pointing to the exit. "yea its mad cringe in here. sorry noona!" they all laughed and left. you walk out of the recording room and sat next to hongjoong, sighing while putting your head on the table, watching him working on the computer. then, you got a notification from yunho.

yuyu :p ; we'll get some drinks at the cafe down here. be back within an hour!

"an hour?! is this really normal or are they escaping from us?" you said, annoyed. hongjoong laughed, turning to you. "they spend their time laughing and relaxing. its normal." he said, leaning to the chair. he scan your whole outfit. you wore a white long sleeved top with little flowers, mini jean skirt along with a cute white thigh high with bows on each side and a coat hanging on the chair. hongjoong likes it when you wear something revealing. especially when you're out here, alone. hongjoong pulled your chair by the side, caging you in between. you looked up at him, holding your phone close to your chest. his oversized sweater made his chest visible and you didn't waste a second to peek at it. "look at me, pretty girl." he lifted your face by your chin as he gets closer to kiss you. your lips moved in sync, tongue playing fights against each other to who's going inside each other's mouth first. the taste of strawberry you had turns him on, your sweet perfume lingers in his mind. while you, enjoying his soft lips and his hands going down to your waist.

"joongie.." you softly said, stopping his hand from going further down to your skirt. "we don't have to do it here." you said. hongjoong sighed and grabbed you by your waists, basically carrying you to his lap as you folded your legs. "haha, i thought you weren't so into this earlier." you teased. his hand going up and down on your back and the other tucking your hair behind your ear before joining the other as he stared into your eyes. "baby, you look so fucking good when you wear this type of outfit.." as he roams his hand on your waist, slowly going to your thighs and going to your back again as his eyes follows his hands then to your eyes. "aww, you like it? i recreate the one i like on pinterest." you said, hands playing the back of his hair as you smile. hongjoong gently push your head to him as he kiss you. so passionately that you start to get your body closer to him by shifting your hips and hitting his bulging area. he whined in the kiss, tightening the hold on your waist. you discovered that he's dick is now hard just by kissing you like this. so you took the chance and hump on his bulge. he pulled away, throwing his head back as he let out a breathy moans. you held on his shoulders, biting on your bottom lip as you watch him enjoy the heated session.

"joongie... you don't mind if i make a little something on your neck right?" you breathily moan, barely speaking because of how good he's feeling through the layers of clothing. hongjoong nodded, pushing your head to his neck gently. he loves it when you make that little something on his neck. its because his neck are the most sensitive area when it comes to you. "a-ah, so fucking good my pretty y/n.. humping like a desperate doll, aren't you?" he moaned. when he's in his working hours like this, and that he's also fucking hard for you, his very favorite way to release that feeling is you humping his clothed dick. then, when he's got that feeling when he want to fuck you right away, he'd told you to stop and finish his work quick to go home with you. but this time, he wanted something different.

"fuck, harder y/n.. until i'll fuckin' cream in my sweats." he tapped your chin, asking for your lips. he was close. close. your panties got soaked, squirting little by little on his sweats. he felt it, but he doesn't mind as long as he's going to cum by your humping. "baby, i'm close. you could go more hard right sweet doll? or you want me to fuck you right now?" he said, making you slow your pace, asking for his dick to be inside of your aching pussy. "awh, you're fast to slow down your pace hm? you want my dick inside of your pretty cunt baby?" he smirked, licking the bottom of his lip. you nodded, making a begging face. you held your body up for a while to let him take off both of his pants and boxer. luckily, your thigh high weren't the pants type. you pulled your skirt up to your waist to have more access. when you saw his big dick springs out, you were quick to spread his precum around his tip making him hiss at the contact of your cold hands.

"slide 'em in, pretty girl." he said, holding you by your thigh, leaning to his chair while he watch you slowly going in. he grunts at the process, finally feeling that tight walls of yours. "ah, quick princess. we don't have enough time." he said, hugging you as you've slide in fully. you felt his tip hitting your g spot right away as you moved in and out. "mmh, like that babygirl. just like how i want it." he praises. the never ending praising makes you reach your high so fast. "faster doll, do you want the other to come in watching you like this?" he sighed, moaning in your ear. you increased your pace, trying to reach your climax. his tip hitting that spot really does it, as you bite your lip. hongjoong buck his hips and matches your pace to be quick. as soon as he thrusts harder, you came as you bit his neck gently to not leave a louder noise. hongjoong had cummed in you, wetting the walls of your pussy so well it leaked out, dripping on his other part. "you're enjoying it so much, doll. you're so cute when you moan." he said, smiling to you as he kisses you for the last time before cleaning up.

when you both is finally clean, and hongjoong changed his sweats, you went to the sofa behind him to relax. the door burst open, s the boys comes in with different topic coming out from each one of them. "yo!! did you finish your part yet noona?" wooyoung picked up your legs from across the sofa and sat down with your legs on top and he pats them. "no, me and joongie went to play games after you left." you smiled at him, closing your phone as you looked around the room. hongjoong turned around, meeting all of you as he smirked. "y/n was going hard on me, so i'd thought that maybe i can give something even harder. you know, our things. you won't understand. so!" he shrugs his shoulders and giggled. "what is wrong with him.." yeosang said, making the others laugh. "yup. so hard it made me scream."

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MAN WHAT THIS TOOK 2 DAYS CUS I DIDNT HV ANY MOTIVATION TO FINISH IT IN 1 DAY BUT here ya go lmao its kinda rushed cus im too lazy to grab my laptop's charger. i hope its not that bad........ im sososososo sorry BUT I WANTED TO POST THIS SOOO QUICK </3</3