#workspace privacy

[flexospaces]

In the vast seas of coworking spaces, data pirates are a real concern that demands attention. By understanding the threats, adopting proactive measures, and staying informed, you can navigate these waters safely. 

[interiorergonomics]

Balancing Openness and Privacy: Designing Effective Open Office Spaces

Open office spaces have become a prominent trend in workplace design. This so, simply because they promote collaboration, communication as well as a sense of community among teammates. This layout eliminates physical barriers such as cubicles and private offices then resorts to creating a more fluid and flexible environment. Advantages of Open Workspaces: Enhanced Collaboration and…

[bouquetface]

MC PERSONA CHART OBSERVATIONS

Accuracy dependent on ENTIRE chart.

Moon in 12th.

Indicates a career that may eventually take you away from home often. Depending on the entire chart, this could be due to constant travel. Or a one time move that creates distance between you & your family or hometown.

MC in pisces.

Have creative careers. Design, music, film, aesthetics, marketing, etc. Due to pisces mutable nature, these people tend to do/try lots of different roles throughout their life.

MC in Sag.

Similar to pisces due to their mutable nature. However, sag are perceived in a more experienced way. Generally, they easily become an authority figure over people. The way they present (style, behaviour) is more likely to be perceived as “wild”.

Scorpio Stellium.

Having many placements in Scorpio indicates you are a private person. Others may believe you to be secretive.

For ex: Scorpio stellium in 4th House of the MC persona chart. You may work from home or be a house wife/husband at some point. You are perceived as a mystery because you prioritize inside life (home, family, privacy) and seclude yourself from the outside world.

Taurus MC.

Indicates a career focused on aesthetics. Appearance may be very important. Design, fashion, and even food could be key themes in your industry.

FAMA in 10th or 1st

Famous people often have FAMA (408) in first house or 10th house.

10th House ruler in 4th.

There is a mix between personal and outside life. People may desire to know what goes on in your personal life. You may share personal things in your career. This can be sharing experiences to relate. Sharing a “private” space. Ex: Renting out property. Or working in the home - home office. You could often invite others into your home or go to their homes.

Saturn or Sun in 10th.

You may work your way up into a top position. If you have many virgo or cancer placements, a managerial position is likely. The downside to this is sometimes you may be perceived as bossy or arrogant.

Fama in 4th.

Throughout my research for this post, a lot of nepo babies have fama in 4th house & 5th house. Their initial fame is a result of family.

Ruler of 10th in 6th House.

You may feel that people are more critical of you than others. In the workspace but in life in general.

MC in Gemini.

Communication is key in your career. Writing, presenting, teaching, marketing, etc.

Jupiter in First House.

Teaching and mentoring is important in your career. You may become someone people go to for advice.

Mercury & Sun in 10th House.

This person is a teacher. Mercury is communication and Sun in 10th gives authority.

MC in Scorpio.

In career, you may work with confidential information. Ex: Accountant, Pharmacist. In life, you may stay very lowkey. People only see what you want them to see.

10th Ruler in 9th House.

These individuals may become professors or mentors later in life. They generally become well travelled elders as well. Very experienced.

[rmview]

they find your smut blog, ATEEZ.

featuring — ateez members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the ateez boys stumble upon your smut blog/thirst account!

contents — crack, no warnings.

hong ⊹ joong

hongjoong was always one to notice the smallest details, whether it was in his music or daily life. so when he walked into your shared workspace and saw your laptop open with your writing on display, his sharp eyes immediately picked up the title of your draft. his curiosity got the better of him as he skimmed the screen.

at first, he thought it was just fanfiction — something he was familiar with given ateez’s popularity. but as he read further, his eyes widened, and the tips of his ears turned red. it wasn’t just any writing; it was a smut piece featuring him.

hongjoong closed the laptop quickly, his heart pounding. part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity, while another part was flattered — and admittedly a little flustered. he paced the room, trying to figure out how to bring this up without embarrassing both of you.

when you walked back in, oblivious to what he’d just discovered, hongjoong cleared his throat. “uh… i think we need to talk,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and seriousness.

you froze, noticing the way he avoided eye contact. “what’s going on?”

“i… might’ve seen what you were working on,” he admitted, gesturing toward the laptop. “and let’s just say i didn’t know you were that creative.”

your face turned crimson as the realization hit you. “you — what? you read it?!”

hongjoong chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “not all of it! just enough to know… well, enough.” he stepped closer, his expression softening. “hey, it’s okay. honestly, i’m kind of impressed by how well you captured my personality. and, uh… flattered? i didn’t know you saw me like that.”

despite the teasing glint in his eyes, hongjoong made sure to reassure you. “look, i’m not upset. if anything, i think it’s kind of cool that you express yourself like this. just… maybe give me a heads-up next time?”

over the next few days, he couldn’t resist playfully bringing it up. “so, any new masterpieces in the works?” he’d tease, his grin mischievous. but beneath the jokes, he made it clear that he respected your creativity and wasn’t judging you for it.

seong ⊹ hwa

seonghwa had always been a gentleman, respectful of your privacy and boundaries. but when he noticed your laptop open with your writing displayed, curiosity got the better of him. the words on the screen caught his attention immediately — explicit yet beautifully written.

his face turned beet red as he realized the subject of the story: him. seonghwa’s mind raced with a mix of emotions — shock, embarrassment, and an odd sense of pride. he never imagined you had this side to you, and while it flustered him, he couldn’t deny the intrigue.

when you returned and saw his face, you instantly knew something was wrong, or perhaps too right. “hwa? what’s going on?”

he hesitated, gesturing to your laptop. “i… might’ve seen what you were writing,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

your heart sank. “oh no. you didn’t…”

“i did,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. “but before you panic, let me say this: i’m not upset. i just… didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

seonghwa’s reaction was gentle and understanding. he sat you down, his hands clasping yours. “i know this is probably embarrassing for you, but i want you to know i’m not judging you. if anything, i’m flattered that you think of me in that way.”

he paused, his cheeks still flushed. “though i will say, some of those details were… very specific. do you really think i’d say something like that?”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “i can’t believe this is happening.”

seonghwa laughed softly, pulling you into a comforting hug. “hey, it’s okay. if writing makes you happy, then i support it. just… maybe don’t let me accidentally find it next time?”

from then on, he treated the situation with a mix of humor and affection, occasionally joking, “so, when do i get to read the sequel?”

yun ⊹ ho

yunho was naturally curious and playful, so when he saw your laptop open on the table with a document displayed, he couldn’t help but glance at it. as his eyes scanned the words, he quickly realized it was a smut piece — and not just any smut piece. it was about him.

his initial reaction was shock, followed by a sheepish laugh. “what the heck?” he muttered to himself, his cheeks heating up. yunho had always been confident, but this was a side of you he hadn’t expected.

when you walked in, you immediately noticed his awkward stance and the way he avoided your gaze. “what’s wrong?” you asked, suspicious.

“uh… nothing?” he said, failing to sound convincing. “well, actually, maybe something. i might’ve… seen what you were writing.”

your heart dropped. “yunho, no. please tell me you didn’t read it.”

“i did,” he admitted, holding up his hands in defense. “but only because it was open! i swear i didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

the room fell silent as you tried to process the situation. yunho, however, broke the tension with his usual humor. “so… is this a thing you do? write spicy stories about me?”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “i can’t believe this.”

yunho laughed, pulling you into a hug. “hey, don’t be embarrassed. honestly, i think it’s kind of amazing. you’re really talented, you know? though i’ll admit, reading that was definitely… an experience.”

he spent the rest of the evening reassuring you, his playful yet supportive nature shining through. “just promise me one thing,” he teased with a grin. “if you ever publish these, let me proofread first.”

yeo ⊹ sang

yeosang was quiet and observant by nature, so when he noticed your laptop open on the table, he didn’t think much of it at first. but as he moved closer and caught sight of the text on the screen, his usually calm demeanor wavered. he leaned in to confirm what he was seeing — a piece of writing that vividly described him in a very intimate light.

his eyes widened, and a deep blush crept up his cheeks. yeosang’s mind raced, both flattered and flustered. he stood there frozen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or quietly close the laptop and pretend he hadn’t seen it.

when you walked into the room, you instantly noticed his awkward stance and the redness on his face. “yeosang? what’s wrong?”

he hesitated, looking between you and the laptop. “um… i think i might have accidentally read something i wasn’t supposed to.”

your heart dropped. “wait… you didn’t…”

he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i did. and… wow.”

you panicked, trying to explain. “it’s not what it looks like! well, okay, maybe it is, but i—”

yeosang raised a hand to stop you, his blush deepening. “hey, it’s okay. i’m not mad. just… surprised. i didn’t know you wrote stuff like that, especially about me.”

his reaction was gentle, his tone soft and understanding. “i mean, it’s a little embarrassing, but honestly… i’m kind of honored? you’re really talented.”

as you tried to hide your face in embarrassment, yeosang chuckled and stepped closer. “hey, don’t worry. i won’t tease you about it… much,” he said with a small smile. “just… maybe let me read the next one when you’re done?”

san ⊹

san was always known for his emotional intensity, and when he spotted your laptop open, his curiosity got the better of him. he glanced at the screen, only to be greeted with a vivid and passionate piece of writing. the more he read, the more it became clear: it was about him.

san’s eyes widened, and a deep blush spread across his face. his initial reaction was a mix of shock, embarrassment, and amusement. “what the…?” he muttered under his breath, unable to stop himself from reading a few more lines.

when you walked in, san immediately snapped the laptop shut, looking guilty but also amused. “um… we need to talk,” he said, his tone a mix of seriousness and playfulness.

“what’s going on?” you asked, noticing his flushed face.

“well, let’s just say i found something interesting on your laptop,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “care to explain why you’re writing about me like that?”

your face turned crimson as you realized what he was talking about. “oh my god, you weren’t supposed to see that!”

san laughed, his usual playful nature shining through. “clearly. but, honestly… i’m not mad. just surprised. and maybe a little flattered?”

he stepped closer, his expression softening. “hey, i get it. writing is your thing, and if this is how you express yourself, who am i to judge? just… maybe warn me next time, yeah?”

from then on, san couldn’t resist teasing you, though he made sure you knew he supported your creativity. “so, when’s the next chapter coming out?” he’d ask with a cheeky grin, making you groan in embarrassment.

min ⊹ gi

mingi’s curious and open-minded nature often led him into interesting situations, and this was no exception. when he spotted your laptop open on the couch, he casually glanced at it, not expecting much. but as he read the words on the screen, his jaw dropped.

the realization that you were writing smut about him hit him like a ton of bricks. his cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “what is this?” he muttered, his deep voice tinged with disbelief and amusement.

when you walked in and saw him standing over your laptop, you froze. “mingi? what are you doing?”

he turned to you, his face still red. “i, uh… saw what you were writing. and… wow. i didn’t know you wrote stuff like that.”

your face burned with embarrassment. “you weren’t supposed to see that!”

mingi raised his hands in defense. “hey, i didn’t mean to invade your privacy! it was just… open, and i got curious.” he paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “honestly, i don’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so humiliating.”

mingi chuckled, his tone light and reassuring. “don’t be. i think it’s kind of cool that you’re so creative. though i have to admit, some of those details… wow. you’ve got quite the imagination.”

despite his initial embarrassment, mingi made an effort to make you feel at ease. “hey, it’s no big deal,” he said, his voice warm. “just promise me one thing: if you ever write more, let me know so i don’t stumble on it by accident again.”

woo ⊹ young

wooyoung’s playful and mischievous personality made his reaction to finding your open laptop anything but subtle. when he saw the explicit story you’d been writing about him, his first instinct was to laugh — not out of mockery but pure disbelief.

“oh my god, is this real?” he said to himself, scrolling through the text with wide eyes. his laughter quickly turned into a mix of flattery and curiosity.

when you walked in, wooyoung grinned at you, holding up your laptop. “care to explain this, author-nim?”

your face turned bright red. “wooyoung! you weren’t supposed to see that!”

he laughed, setting the laptop down and walking over to you. “i mean, how could i not? it was just sitting there! and honestly… wow. you’ve got some serious talent.”

you groaned, trying to avoid his teasing gaze. “this is so embarrassing.”

wooyoung tilted his head, his grin softening into a more sincere smile. “hey, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s kind of awesome that you write. and if i’m your muse, well… i guess i should be honored, right?”

though he couldn’t resist teasing you occasionally —“so, is this how you see me in your head? should i live up to it?” — wooyoung also made sure you knew he was supportive. “seriously, though, don’t stop writing. you’re amazing at it.”

jong ⊹ ho

jongho was always respectful of your space and privacy, but when he walked into the room and saw your laptop open on the coffee table, curiosity got the better of him. he glanced at the screen, his eyebrows raising as he began to read. at first, he thought it was just some creative writing, but as he scanned the words, realization dawned on him.

his usually calm expression shifted into one of shock and flustered surprise. the story was detailed — very detailed — and it was clearly about him. he rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to decide what to do. should he close it? pretend he didn’t see anything? or confront you?

when you walked back in and saw him standing there, your heart sank. his posture gave it away immediately. “jongho? what are you doing?”

he turned to you, his ears tinged red. “i… might’ve seen what you were working on,” he admitted, his voice steady but clearly flustered.

your face burned with embarrassment. “wait… you read it?!”

“i didn’t mean to,” he said quickly, raising his hands defensively. “it was just open, and i… well, i got curious.”

you covered your face with your hands, groaning. “oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

jongho’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his voice calm and reassuring. “hey, it’s okay. don’t beat yourself up over it.” he hesitated, his lips twitching into a small, shy smile. “honestly… i’m flattered. i didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

jongho reached out and gently took your hands away from your face. “look, i know this is probably awkward for you, but i think it’s kind of amazing that you’re so creative. if writing is how you express yourself, then i support it.”

his tone turned a bit teasing as he added, “though, maybe next time, password-protect your laptop if you don’t want me accidentally finding stuff like this.”

you let out a nervous laugh, and jongho smiled, his grip on your hands firm and comforting. “don’t stress about it, okay? if anything, i admire you more for being brave enough to write something like that. just… maybe leave me a heads-up next time,” he said, his teasing tone returning as he shot you a playful wink.

though he didn’t bring it up often after that, jongho made sure you knew he wasn’t judging you. occasionally, he’d tease you lightly — “so, any new stories i should know about?” — but his support and admiration for your creativity always shone through.

notes: subtle foreshadowing of smut fic soon...

[fabaulti]

I think most of us should take the whole ai scraping situation as a sign that we should maybe stop giving google/facebook/big corps all our data and look into alternatives that actually value your privacy.

i know this is easier said than done because everybody under the sun seems to use these services, but I promise you it’s not impossible. In fact, I made a list of a few alternatives to popular apps and services, alternatives that are privacy first, open source and don’t sell your data.

right off the bat I suggest you stop using gmail. it’s trash and not secure at all. google can read your emails. in fact, google has acces to all the data on your account and while what they do with it is already shady, I don’t even want to know what the whole ai situation is going to bring. a good alternative to a few google services is skiff. they provide a secure, e3ee mail service along with a workspace that can easily import google documents, a calendar and 10 gb free storage. i’ve been using it for a while and it’s great.

a good alternative to google drive is either koofr or filen. I use filen because everything you upload on there is end to end encrypted with zero knowledge. they offer 10 gb of free storage and really affordable lifetime plans.

google docs? i don’t know her. instead, try cryptpad. I don’t have the spoons to list all the great features of this service, you just have to believe me. nothing you write there will be used to train ai and you can share it just as easily. if skiff is too limited for you and you also need stuff like sheets or forms, cryptpad is here for you. the only downside i could think of is that they don’t have a mobile app, but the site works great in a browser too.

since there is no real alternative to youtube I recommend watching your little slime videos through a streaming frontend like freetube or new pipe. besides the fact that they remove ads, they also stop google from tracking what you watch. there is a bit of functionality loss with these services, but if you just want to watch videos privately they’re great.

if you’re looking for an alternative to google photos that is secure and end to end encrypted you might want to look into stingle, although in my experience filen’s photos tab works pretty well too.

oh, also, for the love of god, stop using whatsapp, facebook messenger or instagram for messaging. just stop. signal and telegram are literally here and they’re free. spread the word, educate your friends, ask them if they really want anyone to snoop around their private conversations.

regarding browser, you know the drill. throw google chrome/edge in the trash (they really basically spyware disguised as browsers) and download either librewolf or brave. mozilla can be a great secure option too, with a bit of tinkering.

if you wanna get a vpn (and I recommend you do) be wary that some of them are scammy. do your research, read their terms and conditions, familiarise yourself with their model. if you don’t wanna do that and are willing to trust my word, go with mullvad. they don’t keep any logs. it’s 5 euros a month with no different pricing plans or other bullshit.

lastly, whatever alternative you decide on, what matters most is that you don’t keep all your data in one place. don’t trust a service to take care of your emails, documents, photos and messages. store all these things in different, trustworthy (preferably open source) places. there is absolutely no reason google has to know everything about you.

do your own research as well, don’t just trust the first vpn service your favourite youtube gets sponsored by. don’t trust random tech blogs to tell you what the best cloud storage service is — they get good money for advertising one or the other. compare shit on your own or ask a tech savvy friend to help you. you’ve got this.

[bellavitasims]

200 Sunset Boulevard, Beverly Hills

64x64 Residential in Del Sol Valley: An exceptional blend of modern organic design and high-end luxury, located in the prestigious heart of Beverly Hills. This estate is perfectly suited for individuals seeking both privacy and grandeur, including celebrities, influencers, producers, and entrepreneurs.

Offering expansive indoor and outdoor living spaces, it caters to every facet of a refined lifestyle. With breathtaking views, cutting-edge amenities, and seamless transitions between leisure, work, and entertainment.

-Living Quarters: 6x en-suite bedrooms 7xfull bathrooms 4x half bathrooms (including a primary suite and second bedroom, children’s room, guest rooms, staff quarters) laundry room, cleaning/washroom facilities

-Interior Amenities: Main kitchen, service kitchen, home theater, gym, yoga room, dance studio, spa, art studio, film production studio, photography studio, formal entertaining parlor, primary living room, private library, executive conference room, workspaces, Sky Lounge

-Subterranean Level: 18-car garage, gaming room, lounge area, cinema, private bar

-Outdoor Spaces: Infinity pool, private garden, hot spring jacuzzi, outdoor dining area, outdoor sofa lounge, private bar, rooftop open-air cinema

DOWNLOAD ♡ Thank you for your support!

[inkk-tv]

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ]

Admittedly, it's only when she's standing in the park across from the first pub that she realises exactly what she's gotten herself into. "This feels unfair." "Aw, come on Luce," Arthur says with half a smile, swapping his t-shirt for their team kit. "Have a bit of faith."

in which: Lucy is reluctantly recruited into Chris' pub golf video at the last minute, but it turns out to be very worth it.

4.7k words [ masterlist ] [ part two ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd] [warnings: excessive drinking, sexual inudendos]

There’s a certain risk that comes with renting an office in a building full of youtubers. Mainly being ambushed in the kitchen by a camera for a reaction or her two cents on whatever challenge video was underway is not an uncommon occurrence. Although, being fully roped into a video is never too far out of the realm of possibility. 

Luckily, there’s only one person with the gaul to break into her office, and that’s Chris. 

It’s been affectionately nicknamed, ‘the fishbowl’.

Sitting right on the hallway's bend, with two walls and a giant door of nothing but glass that means anyone who steps out the lift can see right into her office. Hence the name. Once she showed up to find someone had stuck fish and bubble stickers all over the windows- she’s pretty sure it was Sam, who does all her captioning, but she’s never gotten him to confess it.

It’s a pretty decent workspace despite the lack of privacy. Lucy’s desk is off to one side, and the three desks for her London-based employees are in a little cluster to the right of it. Only Shelly, the head editor and Lucy had been in today, but it’s nearing five pm and Shelly had headed off about twenty minutes prior, so it’s just Lucy hauled up alone working on a script as she hides from the rest of the building.

Chris invites himself in. As always. For some reason, the wall of glass just doesn’t present the same barrier to him as it does to everyone else. 

She glances up as the door hinges open, the soundproofing scraps against the carpet before closing with a soft click. There’s something a little frantic in his expression- not exactly panic, but stress maybe- and he’s got a white monster energy can that's dripping condensation in one hand and a takeaway bag from the fish and chip shop two blocks over that uses the perfect amount of salt, in the other.

Lucy is no fool. She knows a bribe when she sees one. "No."

All the tension leaks from his shoulders as Chris heaves a defeated sigh, falling back onto the two seater couch just inside the door. "But I haven't even asked yet."

"But you brought me an incentive." She points out and Chris leans over to thunk the can down on the corner of her desk he could reach. Lucy scrunches her nose up at the ring of water that settles underneath it. "You didn't even do that last time and that involved having footballs booted at me for three hours."

Objectively, Lucy has fun on the ChrisMD channel. She’d always been an active person and while the dreams of being a professional athlete did not work out for her like many others, she does still like sports, especially if they’re team based. Chris’s videos are perhaps the most fun variant of them she’s experienced since quitting her Sunday league team back in uni. 

But Lucy drew a hard line in the sand after the break up.

The problem with having fun on Chris’ videos, is that somewhere along the line, wires got a bit crossed. Lucy isn’t really all too sure when it happened, but she remembers realising. Looking at Chris, and realising she fancied him. It was four months before, and she spent all of it agonising over every conversation they had, kicking herself for liking a taken man, beating herself up over every word or glance as the guilt of it all ate away at her. 

Then he was single and the biggest motivator for Lucy to shut her fucking mouth and stomp down her feelings, she got a little worried things would run away from her. She wasn’t keen to make a mess of things, in private or on the internet, so she took a step back. 

It does help that in her last appearance on the ChrisMD channel, she took a particularly solid shot from Simon Minter to the stomach during the World Cup Ball video. A few days later, Lucy's flatmate had bullied her into going to A and E where they found out she’d managed to acquire a cracked rib. 

Simon- bless him- still apologises every time she runs into him. 

Lucy doesn’t know how to thank him for giving her a reasonable excuse to avoid Chris for an extended period of time.

"You had fun." Chris points out with a roll of his eyes, unpacking the takeaway bag to set two boxes on the coffee table in front of him, opening one and digging into a calamari meal.

"And a broken bone."

Another sigh. "This isn't goal keeping."

Lucy's hands still over her keyboard, little cursor blinking on page is of what was going to be a 12 page script. She huffs a breath, telling herself that she will at least hear the man out. 

It was a stupid thing really, fancying him. It’s probably one of those prolonged exposure things, she spent so much time with him that things got blurry in her mind. But the controlled exposure has been working. No more nights out if he was going and no one on one hang outs for the past few months have really helped her get a handle on things. Make the lines of platonic and romantic a little clearer in her head. 

Even if he’s grown a beard that looks annoyingly good on him. She’s allowed to appreciate it without fancying him. Or at least, that’s how she tries to tell her flatmate. 

Lucy had put measures in place, a little bit of distance to get over her puppy crush and they had been working. 

The little bubbliness she used to get has been smothered in the past few months. They’d done Chip’s karting race together just fine and she’s been significantly more invested in the occasional hinge date she secures. Lucy’s building her way up towards nights out again, knowing that he’ll be there and trusting her mouth to not run away from her. Maybe filming with him would be good- keeping her contained to the version of herself that the internet is allowed to see, the version that never fancied one of her coworkers. 

When she pushes her chair out from the desk and turns to level Chris with a look, considering it for a few long moments before sighing and looking up to the ceiling, already regretting what she hasn't agreed to yet. There's a smile on Chris' face - he knows he's won. Apparently, Ciaran Carlin managed to snag himself a case of food poisoning the day of Chris' 'pub golf' shoot ("thought you did football content" - "Its football themed.") so they were down one whole player. Hence why Chris was there, a few moments from dropping to his knees to beg. 

Lucy is, admittedly an outlier amongst the office. At least in terms of content creation. It's actually the Fellas Studio building, but those who invested in the business to help the boys get it up and running, like Chris and Lucy, have their own office space inside. She makes video essays with the occasional social commentary video mixed in - a far cry from Chris' football challenges or the min-maxing style of videos that seems to have taken over the platform in the last few years.

So their friendship has stayed mostly off camera, as she doesn’t often have people on her main channel, posting occasional vlogs on her second channel but he’s only ever made the cut once or twice. The most the internet knows of Lucy Bell and Chris Dixon is that he’s roped her into a few football challenges over the years. 

When it comes to Chris’s channel, Lucy does make for a good feature. She’s just tipped over four million subscribers in the last few months, with almost a completely different audience, so it brings in a lot of new viewers. She’s not half bad at football either, a few years playing football in uni meant she could keep up with most of the UK YouTube scene if Chris begged nicely enough. 

"Alright, but it’s an extra twenty quid for each time you bite me." 

The biting gets her every time. She’s always had a bit of a thing for it, teeth marks and hickeys. It’s a condition that Lucy adds to save her own sanity more than anything.

See, there’s something about Chris when he’s drunk that just makes the man want to bite. Sink his teeth into whichever friend is closest after a pint or two. Doesn’t matter where, hand arm or neck- he’s even gone for her ear once. He’s not handsy per-say, because none of it was sexual really, but it couldn’t be called clingy either because he got way too mean.  

Cuteness aggression seems to fit the bill. But no matter what someone was to call it, the fact is, Chris gets his teeth out when he’s drinking.

Maybe charging him for it will be enough to remind him not to.

Chris grins. "Done." 

Turns out, the pub golf ‘night-out’ she had been lured into starts at one pm. 

Admittedly, it's only when she's standing in the park across from the first pub that she realises exactly what she's gotten herself into. "This feels unfair."

The line up was clearly in no way designed for fairness. With the 'English team' consisting of Lucy, Chris and Arthur-TV, going against the 'German Team' of Stephen Tries, Bambino Becky and Harry Wroetoshaw.

Now Lucy isn’t a lightweight- at least not proportionally. For a woman of five five, she could hold her drink. But Chris Dixon on the other hand, who was the same height, most definitely was a lightweight. There was not a whole lot of faith to be put in their alcohol tolerance.

"Aw, come on Luce," Arthur says, swapping his t-shirt for their team kit. "Have a bit of faith."

She ducks her head to hide the quick frown that flashes over her face. There’s only two people who call her ‘Luce’ and that’s Chris and her flatmate, Spencer. It’s obvious where he’s picked it up from and the thought of Chris chatting about her to one of his friends with such familiarity is enough to make her stomach flutter. Today was not going to be good. 

Lucy's met Arthur before, in passing. At parties or events, seen him at the office once or twice when he'd presumedly come to film with someone. He’s good friends with George and Arthur Hill too. She knows him and Chris have been mates since school, and that he's one of the most frequent victims of the ChrisMD channel. Miraculously, she's never ended up on a set with him before.

She hopes he holds his drink well.

"A little hard to have faith when Becky and Harry are gonna drink us under the table." She says, thumbing at the team jersey she’s been given.

It’s soft, more so than she expected. 

Football has never much been Lucy’s thing. She was on a team during her uni years, but that was more social than competitive. She owns a couple of kits, her old uni jersey that was mainly a work shirt and the Brighton Jersey her brother bought her for Christmas one year- Lucy makes sure to wear it whenever she watches a game. But that’s about the extent of it, she’s never had much reason to go buy an official kit. 

But apparently for the football-ification of pub golf, team jerseys were a must. 

The tag says it’s their away kit from the 1990 world cup and the fabric is so abrasively red, Lucy feels like a stop sign when she pulls it on. It doesn’t help that it was originally bought for Ciaran, so it’s two sizes too large. Sadly it completely tanks her outfit, the black skater skirt and platform mary-janes with lacy white socks had gone so much better with the cosy white knit sweater she’d started the day in, but it does sort of work. Even if it makes her look like a pick-me girl. 

The collar slips about on her shoulders and Lucy pulls the collar about a little, trying to make it sit properly, which apparently, Chris takes as an invitation. 

He comes up from behind and drapes his arms over her shoulders- not exactly unusual behaviour from him, but it does typically take a few more drinks. There’s not even a moment of hesitation before Chris sinks his teeth into the meat of her shoulder, biting down. Not hard enough to hurt exactly, more like a pinch. 

She doesn’t yelp but grunts a little, swatting at his hair to duck out of his grip. When he backs off, there’s a dark semi-circle on the jersey, highlighting where he’d bitten at the material. “Right. That’s twenty quid then.”

Chris blinks, then rolls his eyes. “What? No, come one. We haven’t even started filming yet.”

He’s smiling though, watching as Lucy digs a black marker out of her purse and bites the lid off to draw a thick line on the inside of her right forearm. “A deal is a deal, Chris.”

“We’ll if we’re keeping track like that, someone else has to be in charge of the pen.” He plucks it from her fingers and Lucy goes to swipe it back but he pulls it up high above both their heads. 

She could snatch it back. They’re about the same height; every time someone whips out a tape measure they end up with a different answer to who is taller, so it always depends on the shoes. Today, she’s even wearing platforms with more than enough heel to beat out Chris' white air forces but Lucy’s not sacrificing a single sliver of her dignity to jump for the marker. 

Perhaps realising that she’s not taking the bait, he holds it out to Arthur instead, who has been watching them with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this then?”

“Lucy agreed to be in the video, if I paid her twenty pounds each time I bit her.” Chris says, looking a little proud of himself for some reason, as if wrangling her into a video was some sort of impressive feat. “But I don’t trust her to not just draw a bunch of lines.”

“Damn. That’s smart, you’ll make a couple hundred quid today, easy.” Arthur plucks the marker out of Chris’ fingers and looks at it a little funny. “Will you give me twenty every time you bite me?”

The marker is tucked away into the pocket of his shorts with a grin. 

“You were coming no matter what.”

“With you looking like that, damn right I was.” Arthur holds his hand up for a high-five, probably more of a reflex than anything. Chris doesn't go for it, but Lucy does, swinging up to her tiptoes, to clap her palm against his.

“Come on,” He grins at Lucy, keeping their hands clasped for a few seconds with the momentum and it has her feeling a little better about the afternoon ahead.

One of the film crew, Sam she thinks his name is, waves Lucy over to mic her up. They make their way through the ‘before game interviews’, with the warning they will be spliced with the aftermath that was to be recorded at the last pub.

"Are you going to enjoy today?" Chris pokes the mic against the tip of her nose and Lucy scrunches it up a little at the feeling of scratchy foam.

"Considering I was bribed to be here, no." She plays the reluctant friend well, but they both know she’d been happy to help Chris out in his time of crisis and that she probably wouldn’t end up chasing him up about the money she was supposedly charging him per bite.

The first two holes (“It’s Goal, Luce. Use the right terminology.”) left their team with a rather bleak outlook.

Lucy’s played enough drinking games in her life to be able to down a pint in one go, so that isn’t a problem. She chugs the IPA, so while it’s down in one, Lucy is left with a bitter taste in her mouth, complaining to the table that if she was forced to drink beer, it should at least be lager. Arthur and Chris both down theirs in one, but are cautioned for shit jokes and chose to do a shot each instead of taking the additional points. 

The second pub is no hands, white sambuca shots, but they get a bench so it’s not much hassle to lean down and get her lips around the glass rim and knock it back.

But when they’re done, and Arthur’s wandered off, her, Chris and Harry pounce on his backpack to turn it inside out. It makes her feel like she’s back in secondary playing silly pranks when someone leaves their bag unattended. Tragically he comes back with the news that he’s thrown up. Twice. There’s an attempt to blame the McDonalds wrap he’d scranned a bit too quickly but Calfreezey is not a forgiving referee and they are penalised three points, leaving them at seven as Chris has failed to down his shot in one. 

“We are not winning that dominos pizza.” Arthur whines, frowning down at his inside out bag.

Lucy holds her hands out, an unspoken gesture that he accepts with a smile and starts piling his belongings into her hands. “Cheer up Mr.Television. I’ll Deliveroo one to the last pub.”

“And ruin Chris’ incentive? Where’s your competitive spirit Miss Bell?” He quips back, grabbing a fist full of his bag’s canvas and turning it back out the right way, shoving his pencil case and jacket back into it. 

There’s an instinct to roll her eyes at the last name but fair is fair. She did sort of do it to him first. “I think winning for us is already a lost cause. Becky and Harry can outdrink us all.”

Arthur zips his bag up and swings it over his shoulders, heading for the door but glancing back at her as he speaks. “Not Stephen?”

“He’s more of a mascot I think.” Lucy muses, skipping up to his side and out the door as he holds it with one hand. “Like Chris.”

“Fair enough, they are the two lightweights.” He says, jutting his chin out to where Chris and Stephen were squabbling a good hundred metres up the footpath. “You seem a bit better at handling the beers than Chris to be honest.”

She can’t quite stop the way her nose scrunches at the memories of parties and chundering in bushes out the front of train stations. Lucy hisses through her teeth. “Yeah, I had a few too many nights out in Uni. Spiked my tolerance.”

There’s this little quirk of Arthur’s head, like he’s a curious cat that’s been offered a toy mouse to play with. “I didn’t know you went to uni, what did you study?”

“Journalism. Hence the video essays- if you know what kind of videos I do.”

“Not to brag, but I'm kind of subscribed.” He puts on a little bit of a voice, an impression of the typical ‘nice guy’ when he says it with an exaggerated roll of the eyes that earns a smile.

“Really?” This time it’s Lucy who’s tilting her head, peering up at him a little from under the few loose strands of hair that hang over her forehead and it makes Arthur sort of sheepish. 

“Oh yeah,” He pulls out his phone and opens the youtube app. She’s in his subscriptions tab, along the top bar even. “I really like the rage bait one. And the one about the barbie movies.” 

“You actually watch my videos?” He must do. The rage bait one was recent but Lucy’s deep-dive into the animated barbie movies of the early two-thousands was from her uni days, buried under six years of more recent uploads. 

“Yeah, they’re good. Informative, funny.”

Lucy blushes. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Arthur. I’ll check out your channel after today, promise.”

“It’s not much, a lot of reality TV content- hence the name. I started with Airline freakouts and ended up with ninety-day fiancé.” He holds out his phone for her to take with his own channel pulled up. 

She flicks though, and it is admittedly a lot of ninety-day fiancé, but when she flicks the ‘popular’ filter on, some of the thumbnails look kind of familiar. “Wait, like the old ‘Airline UK’ show? I used to watch some of those.”

Arthur grins. “Really?”

“Yeah, just compilations of the passengers screaming at the easy jet desk.” 

There’s a mental note to watch them when she gets home (pr depending on how drunk she ends up, tomorrow) and see if they’re familiar. 

It happens every now and then, watching a video then realising years later you’ve just met the person who made it. A couple of months after meeting George Clarkey at the gym she realised she’d watched him chase a beep around his garage on tiktok a year earlier.

“Maybe you saw some of mine.” Arthur offers a little shyly, as if he’s nervous about suggesting it. “They did decent numbers. It’s how I got started with youtube.”

“Yeah?”

He hums in agreement. “Needed something to pay the bills in Uni and youtube ended up being way more fun than Law.”

Lucy can’t help the judgemental tone that sneaks into her voice. “You studied Law?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He scoffs with a smile.

“No you’re just nicer than all the other law students I met while in Uni. Most of them were right pricks.”

Especially the one she’d dated in second year. He’d been good at first, but after a couple of pints he was anyone's. The guy played up on her all the time and it wasn’t until he tried hitting on the first year who’d just moved into Lucy’s student Accommodation that she finally called it off. 

After that, all the law students who tried to chat her up at the Uni bars left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Not Arthur though. He isn’t quite a law student, she supposes, he’s a youtuber and Lucy does get on well with most of the UK scene. They were a good bunch and any of the dickheads were pretty easy to weed out- there is a couple she fully avoids, simply because she couldn’t be arsed putting up with them. Lucy scribbles Arthur’s name on the mental list of people she wouldn’t mind chatting to at the next party. 

He’s got decent chat, certainly better than some of the dull people she’s put up with out of politeness and when he smiles, it’s a flash of pearly white. Teeth that all line up perfect- save for his pointed canines. She could stand to see it a bit more often, carve out some space for it in her chest amongst the fluttering of butterflies. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Luce.”

“Hurry up you two, stop dawdling!” Chris shouts from out the front of pub number three. 

They wave him off with a few jeered ‘yeah, yeah’s but do pick up the pace a little. 

“I meant to ask earlier,” Arthur says. “Want to put your purse in my bag? it looks like it’s bothering you.”

Her purse has been bothering her. It was the one she’d taken into the office and was more for fashion than function, a little black leather crossbody bag that she’s had over one shoulder so it doesn't make her boobs look weird on camera. It’s only really got her phone, earbuds and keys in it. She’s been keeping it at her hip with one hand but it’s getting tiring. “Yeah, thanks Arthur.” 

He tucks it away gently, with much more care than he’d had with his own portable charger and pencil case a few minutes earlier. Arthur’s sweeter than she expected. 

Not many of the youtube boys were sweet. Nice, friendly even, but part of being amongst them meant she could take the banter and hard hitting. Catch hurled comments that strangers would say border on cruel with her bleeding hands and hurl them back. There’s an added layer, being a woman online appearing on channels with a male dominated audience. A thick oily sheen that taints the comments of collab videos. 

But Lucy has managed to find the youtubers she could stomach, some of which she spends more time with than others. George is her gym buddy, even if he’s been slacking lately. Will lacks enough of a social life that he tends to rot in the office just as late as she does so they always end up ordering Deliveroo and shit talking for an extra hour or two. She doesn’t mind the occasional pint with Harry or Tobi either. They’re all sweet, but sweet enough that it's threatening to make her blush? Well, only Chris made that far. 

Lucy tucks that thought away and settles into the seat at the end of the table, tapping the toes of her shoes together idly as the production team set up go-pros and camera angles.

Pub number three was goalie rules. Six seconds to down a pint and it had to be done with keeper gloves. 

All six sets set on the table are Large and it looks utterly ridiculous when they all don the gloves. Black and green leathery material that’s oddly padded on the inside, it feels weird enough that it sort of captivates her for a few moments, the new sensation against her hands. Lucy keeps balling her fists up then splaying her fingers again, listening to the scrunch of them before pressing her hands flat against the table to feel the padding compress and spring back up slightly when she released the pressure. 

Arthur has a similar reaction, although he just starts running his hands over everything. From the wooden table to his own legs. Down Lucy’s right forearm where it rests on the table, over Chris’s head. The latter of which, he does so much that it actually gets a reaction, which Lucy is starting to think most of Arthur’s oddities don’t.

“Stop rubbing my head!” Chris squeaks, ducking away from Arthur’s widespread palms that are messing up his quiff. “Rub the head I want to be rubbed!”

Lucy snorts into her keeper glove when Chris gestures rudely to his crotch and Stephen goes to kick it from under the table. 

Thankfully, before things can devolve into more dick jokes, a member of Chris’s team brings over a tray of pints. 

Lucy and Arthur both get it down in one, but Chris fails- laughing after about an inch and having to set the drink down. Easy to say, no one is impressed and he earns them a yellow card for time wasting.

“How have you done worse than the females?” Arthur jokes, setting Chris’ still half full glass between Lucy and Becky’s empty ones. 

“We’ll take ourselves back to the kitchen.” Becky declares, raising a hand for a high five that Arthur meets- an assurance that it’s all jokes- before leaning in to stage whisper to Lucy. “There might be pints in there.”

Despite England's mostly good performance, Calfreezy once again proves that he’s out to get them as he issues two yellows and a red card. Lucy and Chris take the penalty shots- tequila upon request- and there’s three points added to their tally as well. 

It burns the back of her mouth and stings against her tongue. Whichever production member had fetched their shots did not return with the curiosity of a chaser. Still, it’s easier to down than a pint so Lucy takes what she can get. 

Although, everyone seems to be under the impression that it’s going to finish her. Probably because she keels over coughing after getting it down. It’s the closest Lucy’s come to spitting out a drink all afternoon, which is saying something considering the IPA at the first pub was utter shit. 

Her reaction has Steven so confident in his team’s performance that he starts demanding forfeits, anything from shots of the winners choice to public spankings in ‘piccadilly square’.

While Lucy focuses on not tripping over the drag of her platform shoes, the taste of tequila lingers on her tongue and haunts her all the way to the next pub. 

[ masterlist ] [ part two ]

ink note: and we are underway! thanks so much for reading! feel free to send asks about the fic or check out the notes at the bottom of Lucy's masterlist to see how this fic is going to develop.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

[rpmemegraveyard]

The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Tumblr Meme™️ Send me some numbers and a character name and I will tell you:

What does their bedroom look like?

Do they have any daily rituals?

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Eating habits and sample daily menu

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Makeup?

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Intellectual pursuits?

Favorite book genre?

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Favorite beverage?

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

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Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

What is their biggest regret?

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Most prized possession?

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Concept of home and family?

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What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

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Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

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How misanthropic (disliking of humankind) are they?

Hobbies?

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

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[softhwl]

-ˋˏ✄┈ PDA

(2.2k) | cw: dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, clit play, quickie

a/n: unedited - feel free to send requests or just to chat! i am currently working on a few requests so just bear in mind i do take them in order but i love hearing everyones thoughts and suggestions ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The conference meeting was finally over, everyone sluggishly retreating to their spots. PDA. They were forced to listen to half an hour of the rules around PDA in a workspace. Well, at least most did, Eric was busy trying to make his girlfriend laugh with humorous comments about their boss's stupid rambling. It was their usual way of getting through these useless meetings. Somehow, it turned into a confession room with the workers admiting to committing sexual acts in different places within the office building. The pair shared a look, thoughts racing in their head, getting excited to share to the other. Once the meeting was concluded, Eric and the girl joined another co-worker into the breakroom to grab a water bottle as an excuse to discuss the ridiculous meeting.

"...thats so...weird..right? having sex in the office, I mean c'mon.." she said to the co-worker, softly laughing it off as Eric nodded his head silently with a half smile. 

"Lighten up, everyone has done it at least once" the co-worker shrugged. 

"Yeah but I mean- we don't need the office, we have a home" she ridiculed.  "And a bed!" she adds in a matter of factly tone.

 "...and a shower" Eric added into the shared conversation, snickering before his smile falted as she gave him a scolding look. "What? It's true," he mumbled. "We've got all the amenities at home. No need to get frisky in the break room."

The other co-worker snickered again and shook his head. "You two are so lame. Live a little!" He grabbed his water bottle and headed back towards the office, leaving Eric and her alone in the break room.

"I mean i'm all for it-" he turned to her before she rolled her eyes, putting the cap back on the water bottle and left the break room, dragging his hand with her.

I can be fun. I am fun. Right?...Yes, I am. We're doing this. she thought, determined to become a shock factor for once in her life.

He followed her with an amused smile as they snuck around to see what their 'options' were. They passed by the warehouse, the moving trucks, even one of the interns cubicle where rarely anyone ever went by. While the cubicle was a strong contender, the intern ended up confronting them and ruining the sweet taste of secrecy.

 "Oh my god I can't-" she said flustered, Eric was now dragging her by the hand to find a different spot. 

"We'll find a spot, interns' a moron anyway" he grunted.

 "Eric-" she tried before she was gently shoved into a closet.

 "...good place as any right?" he grinned. She took a look around in the tight space he put them in, sharing the space with the old printer and a few bottles of ink

 "...really? the supply closet?" she slightly cringed.

 "You'll forget where we are in a second" he mumbled before pushing the broken printer in front of the door, ensuring their temporary privacy. He then turned to face her, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with each quick breath.

"What's the matter, princess? Not adventurous enough for you?" he teased, stepping closer and backing her up against the shelves lined with ink bottles.

Eric reached out and trailed his fingers along her jawline, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Or maybe you're just worried someone might hear you calling my name."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to be extra quiet. Wouldn't want to give away our little secret, now would we?" he teased.

Eric's hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, and it only served to fuel his own desire.

He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her, pressing her back against the shelves, the bottles rattling from the force of his movements. He began unbuttoning her top as she worked on pulling her skirt down, keeping theier lips locked together.

 "We have to be quick, I'm serious-" she spoke hushed, a rush of excitement and nervousness filling her all at once.

He nuzzled into her neck, his stubble scratching against her soft skin as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat. "Shh, I know, baby," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. 

"Gonna make it so fast you won't even know what hit you." mumbling in an unconcerned manner.

His hands slid down to grip her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he ground his growing erection against her core. Eric reached around to palm her breasts through her bra, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they pebbled beneath his touch.

He swiftly yanked her bra off, freeing her breasts, and cupped them roughly, kneading the soft flesh. "So perfect," he groaned, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth and suck hard.

Eric's other hand slipped down her, pushing her panties aside to stroke her slick folds. He chuckled against her breast as he felt how wet she already was. "Goddamn, you're fucking ready for me, aren't you? Acting like you didn't want this..."

He slipped in two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out at a neutral pace. The pace made her whine, needing more of him already.

"No time for teasing" she barely managed to get out, trying her best to quiet down her moan.

He smirked against her skin, his fingers pumping faster in response to her plea. He loved how needy she sounded, how desperate for his touch. It only spurred him on, making him want to push her even further.

"What's the matter, princess?" he taunted, nipping at her earlobe. "Can't handle a little teasing? Thought you wanted to be quick..."

He added a third finger, stretching her deliciously as he curled them just right. His thumb found her clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Her hips bucked back against him, seeking more friction. Eric chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her ear. "That's it, baby. Fuck my fingers like you're going to fuck my cock. Show me how bad you need it."

He pulled his hand away abruptly, ignoring her whine of protest. Quickly undoing his belt and zipper, he shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection. He gave himself a few rough strokes, smearing the bead of precum at the tip.

Eric pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, teasing her with shallow thrusts. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice hitting low. She licked her lips at the sight, taking him in with her eyes first.

"...please" she mumbled. He smiled, simply tilting his head to the side as he watched her.

"I said no teasing" she shakily mumbled slightly frustrated, edging on being annoyed.

Eric's eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and lust at her frustrated tone. "Alright, alright," he relented, his voice husky. "No more teasing, princess. You want my cock? You got it."

He then turned her around so that her back was now facing him before he pushed her back fowards so she was bent over in front of him, quickly sliding his length between her slick folds, smothering it in her precum as his own lube. With that, he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her wet heat in one smooth stroke. A guttural moan escaped him at the sensation, her walls clenching tight around him. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hips snapping forward again, setting a hard and fast pace.

Eric gripped her hips tightly, holding her steady as he pounded into her from behind. The closet was small, but it only added to the thrill, the danger of potentially getting caught. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, his muscles coiled tight with tension. The faint sound of the shelves rattling ever so slightly filling the tiny space.

"That's it, take it," he growled, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. She threw her head back halfway with a moan, letting him wrap his hand gently around her throat as he kissed her shoulders softly. Her soft moans of his name filled his ear, feeding his ego. He loved seeing her like this - desperate, wanting, needy. But he wasn't quite ready to give in just yet.

"Oh, I'm not teasing, darlin'," he purred, nipping at her shoulder. "Just making sure you really want it. Making sure you're ready for me to split you open on my cock and give you what you really want."

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural groan escaped him at the feeling of her tight heat enveloping him. "Fuck, you feel so goddamn good," Eric growled, setting a hard, fast pace.

His hands gripped her hips bruisingly as he pounded into her, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small space. He could feel his grip tighten, nealry bruising her skin, but he couldn't care right now.

"This what you wanted?" he panted harshly, angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. "Wanted me to fuck you hard and fast where anyone could catch us? You're such a dirty girl, princess."

She sloppily rocked her hips against his as he hit the spot that made her thighs feel weak, bititng her bottom lip in a lazy smile.

He emphasized his point by snapping his hips forward, driving into her harder and deeper. The shelves rattled with the force of his thrusts, bottles clinking together as they were jostled.

Eric's hands slid up her body, roughly palming her breasts before pinching her nipples between his fingers. He twisted and tugged at the sensitive buds, reveling in her sharp intake of breath.

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, his lips brushing against her ear. "Like it when I touch you, when I fuck you so hard you can't think straight. Bet you're getting close already, aren't you?"

He could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, knew she was on the edge. But he wasn't ready for this to be over yet. With a low snarl, Eric withdrew completely, leaving her empty and wanting. He spun her around to face him, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

Eric pinned her against the wall, his hands gripping her thighs as he held her up. He thrust back into her with one hard stroke, as the new angle had him hitting even deeper, making her cry out his name.

"That's it, let me hear you," he growled, setting a brutal pace. His hips snapped forward relentlessly, the wet sound of their bodies coming together filling the small space. Eric could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tight in his lower belly. But he gritted his teeth, determined to make her finish first. He wanted to feel her fall apart around him, wanted to ruin her for anyone else.

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss as he pounded into her. His tongue delved into her mouth, claiming her, owning her. One hand slid between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing hard.

"Let go for me, baby," Eric commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, milk me dry. You can do it."

He curled his fingers just right, stroking and circling her sensitive nub. He could feel her getting closer, her body tensing and trembling against his. She fluttered her eyes shut tightly as she finished, breathlessly moaning his name one last time

As she came down from her high, her body going limp in Eric's arms, he continued to thrust into her, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He could feel her walls still fluttering around him, milking his cock for all it was worth. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave. He groaned long and low, his hips jerking as he spilled his seed deep within her womb. It seemed to go on forever, pulse after pulse of hot liquid filling her up.

When it was finally over, Eric slumped against her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "...new record...right?" he panted shortly in her ear.

"Don't let it get to your head" she smiled tiredly, catching her breath.

"Too late," he grinned. He pulled out slowly, wincing slightly at the oversensitivity. His release trickled out of her, and he reached down to swipe it up with his fingers before bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The taste of their combined essence exploded on his tongue, and he hummed in appreciation, earning a faint whine from her.

He then helped straighten her up before they both fixed themselves to look proper once again. They calmly moved the printer back to where it was and quietly re-entered the main space of the office. Both quietly returned to their desks, not trying to gain attention. The previous co-worker looked to them, catching the glimpse of Eric re-adjusting his loose tie, giving him a questioning look.

[everwizard]

Calling all Hermitcraft fans and JRWI enjoyers!

Do you make fanart of GeminiTay or Jay Ferin? Do people ever tag your art saying they thought it was the other person? Do you find these mix-ups funny? Then I have the opportunity for 🫵YOU!🫵

Introducing the "Gem or Jay Fanart Quiz." The form below is for submissions of YOUR OWN art of one of these two characters. When the form closes I will select pieces for the quiz AND 🔥🔥C-C-CREDIT YOU🔥🔥

If you would like to be a part of the sillies and the goofies, submit a response 🕜🕡🕦🕣NOW🕜🕡🕦🕣. Or like, whenever you feel like it. :)

Please note the form will ask you to sign into a Google account. Email addresses will NOT be collected however, for your privacy. Also please DO NOT submit art that you didn't make yourself. We're all here to have fun.

[interiorergonomics]

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Large, Small and Mounted Whiteboards

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A combination of these are offered at an affordable cost to primarily focuses on noise-cancellation with modern workspaces. Further, modern office fit-outs leverage them in partitions design to reduce ambient noise and enhance privacy. Buy these high-quality acoustic treatments to minimize distractions, improve focus, and foster better communication among employees.

In a bustling city like Dubai, where office spaces often face high levels of external noise, investing in such top-tier acoustic solutions is crucial for maintaining a serene and efficient workplace.

[f4ll-for-you]

First Flight Home | Rafe Cameron

Just a short fluffy Rafe drabble, enjoy!

“And Rafe, what advice would you give to someone who wanted to date you?” The interviewer asked, smiling.

“Uh, I’m not sure, a good coffee often wins my heart” Rafe winked at the camera before the camera switches.

You watched your boyfriend on tv and giggled, knowing he used to stop by the campus coffee shop where you worked every day before you began dating.

Rafe had only been at the event for an hour and he already missed you in his arms, wishing he could bring you to these kind of things.

Although he loved the privacy you two had in your relationship, keeping it away from the media. He also wanted to show you off at every event and make sure everyone knew you were his girl.

You were college sweethearts, you studied humanities and he studied football. You never thought the book worm would end up with the jock but here you were, watching your all star soccer player boyfriend on tv for the thousandth time.

It didn’t take long before you’d fallen asleep, the only thing you cared about was seeing Rafes interview, getting a glimpse of his perfect face that you hadn’t seen in weeks.

He’d been away for PR for the team, building hype for the new season ahead. You missed him terribly but knew he’d be back for a month of just you and him before he was once again darting across the country.

Usually your job was quite flexible you and could usually work from anywhere with a quiet workspace space and wifi, but on this occasion you had a big annual meeting for your company and had to be there.

Rafe quietly opened the door to your NYC apartment, knowing you’d be asleep by now, probably on the sofa covered in blankets.

He smiled from ear to ear when he noticed you, only the top of your head poking out from your position under your favourite knitted blanket.

Rafe dropped his things by the door and quietly walked over to your sleeping form, kneeling beside you. “Surprise baby, I’m back” he whispered softly.

You stirred for a moment, you were sure you heard Rafes voice and in confusion opened your eyes.

“RAFE?!” You exclaimed, still half asleep, but sitting up immediately at the sight of your perfect boyfriend.

“It’s me baby” he grinned as you immediately threw your arms around him.

“What? How? You were-?” You pointed at the tv, trying to get an explanation.

“I left straight after and got the first flight home, couldn’t wait another day to see my girl.”

You peppered his face with kisses before he pulled your head away, taking in your beauty. You were real, and there, right in front of him.

Within moments you were kissing passionately, tongues fighting for dominance.

“Are you too tired for me to show you how much I missed you?” Rafe smirked.

“Never” you breathed, already desperate to feel him inside you once more.

[lisenberry]

The sweat on your skin is better than regret on your heart

Part three! (One and Two) I know I promised smut, but I just got really deep into his tattoos. Part four will finish this up, I swear.

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

He led you towards the back of the shop, past the reception desk and the waiting area, and behind the black velvet privacy curtain.  You were surprised at how clean it was in his workspace.  Welcoming in its warmth.  You expected neon lights and goth décor.  Crystal skulls and gleaming stainless steel.

Instead, it was a palette of rich, earthy tones.  A supple looking camel-colored leather sofa, maps of the ocean and model ships of every shape and size.  A compass rose painted with elaborate detail on the ceiling.  A stained-glass light fixture at its center. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” you mused, as you spun around slowly in a mix of awe and anticipation.  If you were to get a tattoo, it would be the place. 

“If you give me a second, I can draw you up a few ideas.  The ones you showed me on your little phone are uninspired shit.”  He slipped another cig from his pack and tucked it behind his ear.  Always at the ready.

“I’m actually more worried about the placement.”  You bit your lip for courage.  You couldn’t believe you were doing this.  “Could you show me yours?  Maybe that’ll help me decide.”

You sat atop a padded seat that he could recline forward and backward, raise up and down to suit the best position.  It was comfortable and smooth against the back of your knees. 

“I think we can stop pretending why you’re still here.  You want me to help you forget your boyfriend, don’t you?  Work you up so hard—so good and proper—that you don’t remember his name.”

But even as he spoke, he obliged you.  Tugged his shirt off efficiently, pulling it up from behind his neck and shrugging it over the front of his shoulders, letting it come to rest between his wrists.  It briefly looked like handcuffs before he tossed it on the floor beside him.

His hair stuck up in roguish angles before he could smooth it down with a stiff swipe of his palm.   

“No, I want to remember.  Remember this feeling for the rest of my life.”  You couldn’t look away as he stood so close to you, so proudly as if for an inspection. 

At the swath of hair that curled around the thick muscles of his chest and trailed down to disappear beneath the waist of the pants that hung low where his hands rested on his hips.

“What feeling is that?”

“Empty?”  You reached a hand out tentatively to touch the skin along his side.  To move him closer for a better look.  “But free.”

He was inked in a scattering of places, like memories collected over time.  No rhyme or symmetry to their arrangement.  A snake coiled around his shoulder and sunk its teeth into his collarbone.  A black bird with a long neck and hooked beak sat vigilantly on one bicep while a simple, unadorned dagger with wings claimed the other.

Some more weathered than others, it was hard to tell which was the oldest. 

“What’s the bird for?”  you asked, nodding to his left arm.  Below it was written “You’ll never walk alone” in stylized script. 

“That’s a liver bird.  The symbol of the LFC.”  A football club?  You cracked a smile at the boyishness of it.  You wondered if that was his first one, as a lad staking his claim on his body.  And the world.

“And the snake?”  You took your time tracing his right shoulder with your fingertips. 

“I hate snakes.  Scare me to death.”  Brave then, to carry one around with him always, forever creeping up to bite him. 

“And the bees?  You scared of them, too?”  You noted the collection of realistically drawn bumble bees at his side, fresher and with bright yellow colors. 

“Those are for my nieces.  Beatrice, Brenna and Bailey.”  He pointed to each, with a glimmer of softness in his voice as he recalled their names.

As you slid your hands to his hips, you turned him around to view the larger canvas at his back.  Just as disjointed as his front, your gaze fell to a ghostly face. 

More skeleton than specter, it sat on his right shoulder.  It’s teeth were made of bullets, and it stared blankly back at you.  The pitch black in the depths of its eyes unnerving. 

Beside it was a bear, warlike in its posture.  Its face open and fearsome, ready to consume its foe.  A claymore style longsword, with a thistle design at its hilt held in its massive paws.

One last piece balanced out the trinity.  A Knight Templar, crouched in armor.  On one bent knee, in service to a force unseen. 

They felt significant, inked in a similar style and with a fluidity that bound them together. 

“They’re important to you?”

“To be at my back?  Yeah.  They’re the best.”

From there, your fingers moved lower, to a set of four lions sat on their flanks.  You recognized them from history.  They were the Landseed lions of Admiral Nelson’s monument in Trafalgar Square.  They’d once held names too, like his nieces. 

Peace. War. Vigilance. Determination.

But these had arrows in their backs.  You imagined that each one in the count held a significance.  Not a life taken.  Or a victory.  Not something so crass and boastful.  Instead, something lost.

Below each, he’d had a set of coral red poppies added.  Bright and vibrant and new.

“It’s lovely,” you felt a tear drift down your cheek.  You didn’t know why.  It happened sometimes when you were at a museum or a gallery.  Moved beyond words at something beyond yourself.  The unbridled expression of another.

The last was a lone set of crosshairs, in a style so different than the rest.  Thin and unsure, as if doodled in a dream.  Just below his neck.  Dead-center at the crest of his spine.

“What’s this one?” You grazed it gently with your fingers.  Not entirely sure you wanted the answer.

“That’s the one that finally gets me, love,” he growled as he twisted around and held your probing hand in his.  “You’ve looked your fill.  Now it’s my turn.”

[2024-grimoire-challenge]

Previous Prompts

Here is post you can find all of the previous prompts for the entire year!

January Week 1 - Intorduction

January Week 2 - Definitions

January Week 3 - Energy Sources in Witchcraft

January Week 4 - Deeper into the Elements

January Week 5 - Rules, Morals, Philosophies

-

February Week 1 - Energy Work

February Week 2 - Types of Magic

February Week 3 - Types of Magic 2

February Week 4 - Types of Magic 3

-

March Week 1 - Symbolism and Traditions

March Week 2 - Spell and Ritual Outline

March Week 3 - Traditions, Associations, Tools and Symbols

March Week 4 - Deeper Ancestry

-

April Week 1 - Astrology

April Week 2 - Planetary Magic

April Week 3 -Other Celestial Stuff

April Week 4 - More Star Stuff

April Week 5 - Cosmic Wrap Up

-

May Week 1 - Diving into Divination

May Week 2 - Divining Deeper

May Week 3 - Divination Wrap Up

May Week 4 - Changing it Up

-

June Week 1 - The Wheel

June Week 2 - Transitional Periods, Energies, Entities and Places

June Week 3 - Circles and Other Shapes

June Week 4 - Grand Ideas

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July Week 1 - Dreams, Astal Work, Life and Death Philosophies

July Week 2 - Various Magics

July Week 3 - The Magic of Metals

July Week 4 - Different Types of Magic

July Week 5 - Magical Hodgepodge

-

August Week 1 - Looking Inward

August Week 2 - Magic In the Mundane

August Week 3 -Using Your Senses

August Week 4 - Sixth Senses

-

September Week 1 - Bubble Bubble, Toil and Trouble

September Week 2 - Alchemy

September Week 3 - Crystal Grids

September Week 4 - Altars and Workspaces

-

October Week 1 - Laws of Magic

October Week 2 - The Fae, Cyrptids and Mythological Creatures

October Week 3 - Science and Magic

October Week 4 - Witchy Things

October Week 5 - Gettin' Crafty

-

November Week 1 - A Hodgepodge

November Week 2 - Family, Politics, Privacy and Storage

November 3 - Banishing, Glamours, Color Magic

November 4 - Turning Magic Back

-

December Week 1 - Shadow Work, Discernment, Synchronism, Seasonal Depression

December Week 2 - Utilizing What You Have

December Week 3 - Revisiting Traditions, Magical Timing, Magic with Medicine

December Week 4 - Looking Back

December Week 5 - Looking Ahead

Final Prompt

Bonus Prompts

Seasonal Magic

Other Perspectives

Eclipse Magic

Magic in the Mundane

Kitchen Witchery

Book Design Ideas

Drying Herbs

Superstitions

Crossroads and Liminal Spaces

Magical Salts and Waters

Witchy Calendar

Relationship Magic

Utilizing Technology

Associations

Holiday Prompt

Imbolc

Ostara

Beltane

Litha

Lughnasadh

Mabon

Samhain

Yule

Witchy Vibes Playlist

[heauxvibez]

Born Again Virgin: II

Part 2 to Born Again Virgin

Amaia confidently strode through the entrance of her clothing store, the very one she owned, heading straight for her office. Today was special, she was about to meet a new client. Being a rising star in the world of celebrity styling, Amaia was in high demand, just like the famous Kim Kimble.

A call had come in from a manager, pleading for her assistance in styling his client, a WWE Star who had been making waves in the industry for years – Roman Reigns. Known as one of the top wrestlers around, Roman needed a new stylist urgently, especially with the Espy Awards looming just a day away.

Initially, Amaia hesitated, her schedule already packed for the day. But when the manager mentioned the price, she couldn't refuse. Without a second thought, she accepted the job, knowing it would be a whirlwind of fittings and designs.

As she flicked on the lights, Amaia prepared for the arrival of her employees. Her frequent travels meant she wasn't often at the shop, leading her to hire more staff than initially intended.

Turning the sign to 'Open' and another warning against photos and autographs, Amaia reflected on the growing attention her shop received from fans eager to catch a glimpse of celebrity clientele. What started as a minor inconvenience had escalated, prompting the need for clear boundaries.

Unlocking her office door, Amaia breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be back in her sanctuary after weeks of traveling with other clients. Her office wasn't just any ordinary workspace; it was grand, almost as large as her own apartment. Walls painted in a soothing violet hue, complemented by sleek black and marble flooring, created an air of sophistication. A delicate chandelier hung from above, casting a gentle glow, while a colossal closet dominated the room's rear. Overflowing with garments ranging from petite children's sizes to the sizes of Rick Ross, it was a treasure trove of fashion possibilities.

Every item of clothing was organized by color and style. From elegant dresses to sharp suits, the racks carried a plethora of options, some already worn by clients, while others awaited their red carpet debut at upcoming events and award shows.

Adjacent to the expansive closet were two discreet changing rooms, providing privacy for those hesitant to undress in front of Amaia. She recalled with a chuckle the boldness of certain clients, like Rihanna, who did not care about undressing in her presence. Amaia couldn't help but be thankful that she wore a bra that particular day, given Rihanna's notorious aversion to them.

She busied herself fluffing the plush pillows on her couches. Nestled between them was a sleek glass table, topped with a bowl of yummy fruit candies and a stack of glossy fashion magazines, inviting guests to indulge in both sweets and style.

Reserved exclusively for her esteemed clients, Amaia's office was off-limits without her explicit permission.

Taking her place behind the desk, Amaia sorted through the scattered papers, her schedule filled to the brim. With appointments shuffled to accommodate her newest client, she made a mental note to reschedule today's and tomorrow's clients for Monday.

The lively chatter of her employees filled the air, bringing a smile to Amaia's lips. Each member of her team held a special place in her heart, and she always felt a bit sad when separated from them during her travels. She wanted to wait a bit before going out to speak to them, she focused on returning calls to clients, informing them of the scheduling changes prompted by her latest styling venture.

Mid-task, the ring of her office phone interrupted her concentration.

"Hey Amaia, you got 2 men here saying that they have an appointment with you today,"

"Names?"

"Paul Heyman and Roman Reigns.."

"Okay, send them in, thanks Makayla."

"No problem, boss."

With a soft click, Amaia hung up the phone, tidying a few papers into the drawer of her desk. Just as she finished, three gentle knocks echoed through the room, she rose from her seat and made her way towards the door.

As she swung it open, her gaze was met with the towering figure of a man clad in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweats. Her eyes traveled slowly upwards, taking in the breadth of his frame before meeting his face.

Damn, she thought.

He was undoubtedly the most handsome wrestler she had ever laid eyes on, and she'd seen her fair share. His features were chiseled and defined, sharp enough to cut like a knife. Dark, almost obsidian eyes poured into hers, set against smooth, pretty brown skin. His lips, full and inviting, drew her attention like a magnet.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Roman but you can call me Joe.." His voice, deep and seductive, snapped her out of her trance, though it sent a shiver down her spine, her knees trembling slightly.

A faint smile played at the corners of his lips, noting her reaction. The way she couldn't tear her gaze from his lips gave away more than she realized.

Roman wasn't one to brag, but he knew his charm. He was well aware of his good looks and the effect they had on others, especially women. Seeing Amaia's response wasn't new to him.

Purposefully, he licked his lips, revealing a set of perfect teeth in a charming grin.

"And I'm Paul, his manager."

She tore her gaze away from the striking sight of Roman, turning her attention to the burly man beside him. He sported a black and white suit, a touch of gray in his tie, his balding head lending him a seasoned air. With a weak smile, she extended her hand to shake theirs, introducing herself.

"Sorry we're a little late, I just moved into a new place an-.." Roman began to explain.

"No, it's totally fine. No need to explain.." Amaia interrupted, ushering them into the room and gesturing for them to take a seat on one of the plush couches.

As she opened the door to her closet, she headed towards the section reserved for men's clothing, selecting a few suits to present to Roman. Laying them out on the adjacent couch, she turned back to face him.

"Okay, so I'm styling you for the Espy's correct?"

Roman nodded, "Correct.."

"So, explain to me your style. Like what do you like to wear, favorite colors, so on and so forth..",

"I'm not too big on name brands and stuff like that. I dress casually for the most part. Colors..hmm..I like dark, sometimes with a pop of somethin' bright..you get me?"

She chuckled, pulling out a few dark suits and colorful button-ups and ties.

"I definitely understand,"

Roman glanced at his manager, who seemed preoccupied with his phone.

"What?"

Paul glanced up briefly, "Nothing, don't worry about it. I'll be right back." he smiled, nodding towards Amaia.

"Take good care of him while I'm gone." he requested.

"I'm not a child, I can take care of myself," Roman said, rolling his eyes.

Amaia giggled, "It's fine, I got him."

"Thank you."

She held up a black suit, "Come here for a minute.."

As he approached, she felt a flutter of nerves. His presence was intense, his cologne intoxicating.

Turning to face him, she held up the suit, "How about these black slacks with a black button-up and a deep blood orange or red tie? Or you can wear the black slacks with a red button-up and a black tie..no suit jacket, though.."

Roman considered the options, his presence sending her thoughts into a tailspin.

"I like the all black with the red tie, that would be pretty dope. What do you think?" he asked. His eyes stared deeply into hers, almost as if he were searching for something. If you ask Amaia, she could've sworn he was trying to find her g-spot by staring into her soul.

"I..I think you will look great in that." she stammered.

"Yeah?" he leaned in closer, his breath grazing her cheek.

"Yes.." she breathed out softly, feeling a flutter in her chest. Gripping the clothes tightly, she fought to steady herself. If his intention was to make her lose her mind, he was certainly achieving it.

The door swung open, causing both of them to jump.

"Joe, we got to go. You have a meeting in 30 minutes. If we don't go now, you'll be late, and that's not a good first impression." Paul said, fingers tapping away at his phone.

"What about the outfit for the Espys tomorrow? She doesn't know my sizes.." Roman's concern was evident.

"Text her your sizes and we'll deal with the rest tomorrow morning. Amaia, will you be able to be here at 6:00 am tomorrow?"

She nodded, "Great, problem solved. Let's goooo!" Paul exclaimed, ushering Roman out of the room.

Roman groaned, rubbing his temples.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow.."

"Yeah, tomorrow.." she murmured, glancing down.

"Reigns!"

"I'm coming!"

"See you later, beautiful.." his smirk lingered in her mind.

As the door closed behind them, she sank to the floor, her knees finally giving out.

"My God, what am I going to do with this man?" she lamented, her box braids threatening to fall out of her bun.

This born again virgin thing is going to be harder than she thought.

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

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @headoftheetable