#the people up top just want you to keep paying

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[yandere-daydreams]

Hear me out hear me out on this concept idea

Southern gothic small town pastor Geto AU

tw - non/con, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, financial abuse via organized religion, and implied kidnapping.

wait that would actually be so hot of him actually.

i don't know what is about geto but he just,,, radiates scummy religious figure energy to such an atrocious degree. like, couldn't you just imagine him moving from small town to small town, posing as a country-values pastor to scam his ever-growing congregation out of their life's savings and retirement funds before smuggling himself away and moving on to fresher meat? if he works quickly, the whole operation takes a little less than six months, and he's got such a charming smile and such a soothing voice - no one's ever so much as thought twice about trusting him, not really, not unless they wanted to be the next town outcast.

well, no one aside from you, of course.

it's cute - just how suspicious you are of the man who has your chronically truant parents sitting in the front row of his chapel twenty minutes early. you'll tell anyone who's got the time to listen that you don't like his hollow expressions, that you don't find his sermon-topics appropriate, that you don't trust how quickly he showed up after your last pastor suddenly went missing. no one listens to you, of course. you burnt that bridge when you decided to move away to some big, new-age city and attend some expensive, self-aggrandizing university. like him, you'll only be in town for a few months, just until the start of your next semester, but unlike him, you actually care about what's going to happen to your neighbors after you leave. the fact that you stopped going to church entirely after he took over doesn't help. in a town like this, you might as well be signing the warrant for your own social exile.

you make an effort to keep your distance, but he just can't seem to pay you the same courtesy. in a town like yours, it's can be hard not to run into familiar faces, especially when he seems to stop in at the general store where you picked up a summer job every other day, when he mentions to your mother that they could really use an extra pair of hands at the church's monthly bake sale or tells your father that he might want to bring a helper the next time he comes to fix up a few things around the sanctuary. you're always so flustered around him, always so brooding - like you think someone's going to believe you just because you cross your arms and pout. he savors any chance he gets to touch you - whether it's his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he moves past you in a narrow hall or your body pressing into his after he forgoes your offered handshake in favor of a nice, tight, neighborly hug.

and, when you come to him, he thinks he might finally know why people try so hard to get into heaven. it goes without saying that you're irate, shouting at him from the steps of his parsonage as you demand he return the tens of thousands of dollars that your mother so generously donated early that day, but it's not hard to convince you to come inside, to get a glass of wine into your hand under the pretense that, if you really drove all this way just to yell at him, it's the least you deserve. things devolve from there - your glass looks a little empty, why doesn't he top you off while you tell him what a terrible person he is? you've already finished that bottle, but he's got a gorgeous vintage red, and you're just starting to slur - he's sure it'll be fine. and, oh, well, you're far too drunk to drive yourself home, but don't worry, his bed's big enough to share. and oh, look at that, don't you feel lucky to wake up naked and sore in an unfamiliar bed, the handsome young pastor's cock still buried inside of you? he's sure your parents will be elated when you two tell them about your new engagement (because, of course, you can't just sleep with your local pastor and expect to come out of it without a ring on your finger, can you?), even if you seem a little upset right now.

it's only as he watches you sob into his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his cum still dripping out of you, that he decides he might be able to stay in this particular small town for a few more months. just long enough to find a way to take you with him, when he leaves.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Please # 51 “I’m your husband. It’s my job.”   ☁️For Quinn Thank you !

ooo this is very Quinn Hughes - eldest daughter, protector of everyone coded for sure!

Drabble Masterlist.

"I'm your husband. It's my job."

You were sick, sicker than you have ever been. It was some type of stomach bug that was going around and for some reason your body just couldn't shake it. This was one of the first times in your entire life that you truly had relay on someone fully to help take care of you.

Quinn was amazing throughout the entire experinece. He brought you soap and made sure you ate things that you could actually keep down. Since you felt so sick he kept a bucket next to your side of the bed for you to throw up in if needed, he never complained when he had to clean it out even though if roles were reversed you defintely would. Your body was so fatigued that you even had to get Quinn to help you to the bathroom. He helped you shower, he made sure even though you felt like crap you still showered everyday because he knows that's important.

He made sure you took all your medicine on time and listened to all the doctors instructions. Even though you told him not too because he would get sick, he never left your side almost always cuddling you as you watched whatever you wanted on T.V. You were so out of it you didn't even realize at one point you were watching a Canucks game and Quinn was cuddling up next to you instead of on the ice in Seattle. But once your mind realized you gasped in shock.

Quinn tore his eyes from the t.v. quickly, "what's wrong?" he asked frantically ready to jump up to help in anyway he could.

"Quinny! That's your team!" you tried to raise your voice but it came out more dry and raspy then you would of liked. A smile slowly creeped on his face.

"Yeah that's why I'm watching it gotta make sure Brock and Petty are doing a good job for me." he chuckles still looking down at you.

"No. Your suppose to be there not here. It's your job to be there! People are counting on you. If you leave now you'll make the Kings game for tomorrow." you argue, you try to push him so he leaves the bed but even if you weren't weak from being sick you wouldn't be able to move Quinn unless he wanted you to.

"Yes it's my job. But I'm your husband. It's my job to take care of you. Remember, sickness and health, they'll be okay for a few games without me." grabbing your and pulling you so you were pracatically laying on top of me. "Both are my job, but your my most important job. Okay?" he asks making sure your paying attention even in your delirious state due to the stomach flu.

"okay." you whisper, turning your head trying to focus on the game on the t.v. but you fall asleep before the current shift was even over.

[itneverendshere]

I love bartender!reader!!!!!! She seems so sweet and collected...but I was wondering if she's got a little fire in her? Maybe they're at a party together and she gets jealous......which is new because she's usually the calm one out of her and rafe. Hope you're doing great <3

loved writing this bc you're so right!!! it's just so not like her to lose her temper over trivial things but oh🫣 hope you're doing just a great as well💖

i'm usually so unproblematic - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut.

You’re sitting in Rafe’s truck, staring out at the huge house in front of you, stomach in knots. It’s a mansion, more like.

Kook house. Kook party. Rich people everywhere. You can already hear the distant thrum of music, even from inside the car, bass-heavy, vibrating through the seats.

You chew your bottom lip and glance over at Rafe. He’s calm, casually messing with the radio, probably about to put on those trashy songs he loves that you absolutely hate but pretend to like because you love him.

It's insane how easy it is for him to just... be cool about this. But you?

You’re not so sure.

"This was a bad idea," you mumble, half-joking but also half-serious.

Rafe turns to you, one eyebrow raised, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Nervous?”

You give him a look. “Obviously. I’m not...I don’t do these things. I don’t know these people.”

You’ve been with Rafe for almost a year now, give or take. Said your I love yous, met each other’s families. Hell, you’ve spent more time at Tannyhill than at your own place lately, and you’ve grown used to Rafe’s kook side. His friends, though? These parties? A whole other beast.

“I already met Topper. Isn’t that enough?”

He laughs under his breath, reaching over to take your hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s Kelce, and a few other people. No big deal.”

No big deal, you think. Easy for him to say when he’s been around these people his whole life. For you, being a pogue, working extra shifts at the country club just to pay rent… yeah, this is a little different.

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. It’s just— I’m out of my element.”

He squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.” 

You’re with Rafe. The Rafe who loves you, who can’t keep his hands off you even when you’re just watching movies. The Rafe who gets jealous over dumb things, like if you laugh too hard at one of JJ’s jokes, even though he’s just your seventeen-year-old neighbor. The Rafe who texts you goodnight, even when you’re in the same room, because he’s a sap and you secretly love it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you agree, trying to hype yourself up.

Rafe smiles, and then he’s out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, like a perfect gentleman. You roll your eyes but step out, the night air brushing your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure how to dress for this party, so you chose to wear something…safe. A pretty red top you only used on special occasions and your best demim skirt. It wasn’t exactly kook material but at least you weren’t in your worn-out shorts and usual crop top or in your work uniform.

The moment you walk inside, though, it’s like stepping into a different world. The house is packed. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, hanging by the pool. Everything’s pristine and polished, and you feel their eyes on you the second you walk in.

Rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Want a drink?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the music.

You nod, trying not to let the fact that people are definitely staring at you freak you out. You’re not a Kook. You’re his girl, though, and you know how much that pisses some of them off.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a drink in hand, and Kelce’s talking your ear off about something you don’t really understand. Golf. You smile and nod along, doing your best to keep up, but the truth is, you’re not listening. You’re too busy watching the crowd, still feeling like you don’t fit in. Like you never really will.

That’s when you notice her. Tall. Pretty, in that rich, polished way that’s almost too perfect. And she’s glaring. Right. At. You.

Your stomach drops, and you tear your eyes away, sipping your drink to cover the dread that suddenly hits you. You don’t know who she is, but she’s been staring at you since you walked in, and it’s starting to mess with your head. Was there something on your face? Had you met before at the club? Maybe she didn't like your drinks.

“Baby, you okay?” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Yeah, fine,” you lie, forcing a smile. He frowns slightly but doesn’t push it. Kelce’s still talking, oblivious.

You try to ignore it, but as the night goes on, she keeps popping up. Always staring. Always with that look crazied in her eyes. Like she could kill you. You’ve had a couple drinks by now, and your nerves are turning into a kind of irritation.

Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a break from the overwhelming feeling of being watched. You lock the door behind you, exhaling slowly as you stare at your reflection. Were you seeing things? Overreacting? Surely, Rafe or Kelce would’ve noticed as well, right? Or maybe they were used to this. 

I’m just overthinking it, you tell yourself. I’m fine. She’s just..

But when you open the door to leave, she’s there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at you with that same stupid look, like you personally offended her by daring to exist. 

“Can I help you?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts her head, giving you the most disgusted once-over you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re Rafe’s new thing, huh?”

What? You’ve had just enough to drink that your filter is basically nonexistent now. You blink, confusion killing the buzz in your head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I know you.”

You laugh awkwardly, nothing about this is funny. “Okay? So what’s your problem?”

Her eyes narrow, lips tinted pink curling. Oh, she’s mad now. She steps up closer to you, practically chest-to-chest. “My problem is that I don’t get why someone like you is with Rafe. He used to have a certain standard.”

Oh.

You almost laugh again because...wow. Really? That’s what this is about? “Okay, Regina George,” you mutter under your breath. You’re not in the mood for this. You tilt your head, giving her your best innocent smile.  “And who are you?”

“Sophie. I dated Rafe for two years, before you, obviously,” she says, like that’s supposed to mean something. You didn’t know him back then, you hadn’t even spoken a word to him. "Guess he didn’t mention me."

His ex. Of course. Of course she’s his ex. 

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Nope, pretty sure he forgot to bring you up.”

You feel a little sting of jealousy in your chest, but you try to swallow it down. You’re not about to let this girl get under your skin. You’re better than that. You didn’t know him, it’s fine.

 “I’m not really interested in whatever this is.” You move to step around her, but she blocks your path.

“Just a word of advice,” she grits out, like you’ve personally offended her, “He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around for long. Especially not with girls like you.”

That does it. The alcohol, the nerves, the whole night—you’re seconds away from losing it. “What the hell is your problem?” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“Dirty pogues who think—”

"Okay. I’m not gonna play whatever this is with you," you interrupt her, gesturing between the two of you, stepping forward so you’re toe-to-toe with her now. "If he wanted to be with a walking Vineyard Vines ad, he would be. But he’s not. He’s with me."

“You really think you’re different?” she spits, voice laced with venom. "Like you're special?"

Your laugh comes out sharp, more of a bark. “If you were so special, you wouldn’t be here, playing guard dog outside the bathroom. Move."

“Or what?” she challenges, her lips curling in that same superior smirk that makes your blood boil. “What are you gonna do, pogue?”

That’s it. You feel the fire flare up in your chest. Screw this girl. Your hands ball into fists, and you’re half a second from knocking that smug look right off her face when Topper steps in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not turn this into Jerry Springer, alright?" He holds up his hands like he’s breaking up a fight at a middle school dance. You’re staring daggers at Sophie, and she’s glaring right back, but his hands are still up, a peacekeeper grin plastered across his face as he looks between the two of you. “Let’s not do this,” his eyes landing on Sophie. “C’mon, Soph, no need for the drama, yeah?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and stepping back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever, Topper.

He watches her go before turning back to you, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

You nod, still fuming, but grateful he stepped in when he did. "Yeah. Thanks."

You let him take you away because if he doesn’t, you're going to follow her and throw a drink in her face or do something worse. You feel like you could punch her right in her perfect, stuck-up face. 

He leads you back to where Rafe is, and you’re too upset to even look at him. His hands are on you the second you’re close, pulling you to him like he can tell something’s off. "Baby," his lips brush against your temple. "What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to kill someone."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not without completely blowing up.

Rafe’s brow furrows, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “What the hell happened?” he asks again, more forceful this time.

Topper gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, just shrugs. “Nothing, man. Just some girl drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Girl drama your ass.

He turns to you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, his hands on your waist, the other settling on the back of your head, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You pull away, shaking your head, still too mad to speak.

He follows, his hands reaching for yours. “Hey, c’mon.”

Finally, you look at him. Really look at him. And the second you see his face, that stupid, worried puppy-dog expression, the anger starts to melt away.

“I’m mad,” you admit, “I got jealous. Your ex’s a bitch.”

Rafe blinks, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. A real, genuine laugh. You glare at him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not,” he says, quickly sobering, though there’s still a stupid smirk at his lips. “I just, I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “I’m serious, Rafe. She was awful.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I don’t care about her. At all. I care about you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is softening. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”

Rafe’s smile fades, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

"She’s a psycho.”

Rafe’s expression changes, his frown deepening. "Sophie?"

"Yeah," you snap, because you hate the sound of her name coming out of his lips, "Sophie. Called me a dirty pogue, which—real original.”

“She what?” Rafe’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you see a flash of that old Rafe—the one who’d get into fights at the drop of a hat. "I’ll handle it.”

You’ve seen it before—his protective streak, the one that could turn dangerous if he wasn’t careful. Part of you loves it, the way he’d go to war for you without even blinking. But another part of you hates that you have so much power over him.

But right now, you’re still too mad to care about him handling anything. You push past him, heading for the exit, needing air, needing space. Everything inside you is on fire, and all you can think is that you need to get out. Anything but this house full of people who make you feel like you’re just dirt. People like her. You can’t stop hearing her nasal voice in your head, those snide comments digging into you like little needles, bringing up that same old insecurity.

“Baby, hold on,” His voice is behind you, and his hand is instantly catching yours, tugging you back before you can make it to the door.

You spin around, already ready to snap, but then you see his face—eyes wide, brow furrowed like he’s genuinely freaked out that you’re upset. “Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit.”

You stare at him, your chest tight and aching, because yeah, you know she’s full of it, but it still got to you. It still hurt. “It just…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, even though everything feels like a mess. “It got in my head, Rafe. Like, I hate that she said that. I’m so sick of people looking at me like I don’t belong just because I’m not—”

He cuts you off, stepping closer, and before you can even finish the thought, he's dragging you into him. “You belong with me. That’s all that matters.”

You let out a breath, but you’re still worked up, “But it’s like—I don’t need some stuck-up kook girl who thinks she’s better than me telling me I don’t fit in. I know I’m not like them, but she said it like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I’m just some—”

Rafe’s lips are on yours before you can finish. He only pecks you, but it’s enough to shut you up, to make your brain go silent for a second. “Stop,” his voice is almost pleading. “Stop thinking like that. I love you, okay? I don’t care what anyone else says.”

You blink up at him, you want to stay mad, but also want to let it go because he’s right here, so close, and he’s got that look on his face that makes your heart flip. “You don’t get it.”

He pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips like he can’t stand to have any space between you. “Then tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Tell me why you’re letting her get in your head.”

You huff, but the fight in you is starting to die out. “Because she made me feel like I’m less.”

He tilts your head back just enough to look at you, “That’s bullshit,” his fingers are gentle as they trail up your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel a little stupid for letting that girl get to you in the first place. But damn it, you’ve heard it before—from other people, from yourself—that nagging voice that says you’re not enough.

“I know.” you mumble though you’re still a little embarrassed.

Rafe smiles then, that sweet smile he only ever gives you, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Good,” he says, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Because I’m obsessed with you, and I don’t care what her or anyone else says.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting yourself relax in his arms. “You’re obsessed with me?” you tease, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, his hands sliding up your back, one hand slipping down to squeeze your ass, his thumb sliding just under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t keep my hands off you. You know that. It’s becoming a real problem.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but you don’t stop the giggle from bubbling out. The way he’s looking at you right now, like he can’t even think straight because you’re standing in front of him—it drives you up the walls. Then he leans down and kisses you again, and this time it’s not...casual. His lips move against yours like he’s trying to take every thought in your head, and it’s working. Your hands slide up, wrapping around his neck as his tongue brushes against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. 

He grips you harder, lips moving to brush against your ear, “You’re mine, baby and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

That hits you, hard, like a truth he always reassures you off but still feels brand new when he does say it. Everything that pissed you off, all the crap Sophie said, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Stop making me horny,” You whine out, tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer. You can feel his grin against your skin as he leans in, biting your lip playfully before kissing you again, you know he’s enjoying teasing you. His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass again, making you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him smirk.

“I like you horny.”

You’re in the middle of this stupid party, surrounded by people who probably hate you for breathing, but all you can think about is how much you want him right now. His lips move over yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’re more than happy to let him. It’s messy, all tongues and spit, but you don’t care. You love how rough and needy he is, how he groans into your mouth like he’s been dying to kiss you all night. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy, the room spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him—or both.

You tug at his shirt, frustrated with how much fabric is in the way, and he chuckles against your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands slide down up to your neck, tightening just enough around your throat, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, making him grin.

“You're just so—” his lips brush over your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, kissing and biting just hard enough to make you squirm, "Beautiful, aren't you?"

You’re normally not one for pda, not at all. The idea of people watching, of eyes on you while you're with someone, always made your skin crawl. But when Rafe kisses you like this? When he’s got his hands on you? God, your brain just goes dumb, and every ounce of self-consciousness fizzes out. It's embarrassing, almost. All you can think about is the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s holding you against him, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’re so not this person, not the girl who makes out with her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room.

But with Rafe? You can’t even think straight. 

His hands slide under your skirt for the millionth time, blunt fingernails gripping your plushy thighs, and you nearly whine, “Rafe,” you breathe, trying to pull away long enough to think properly, but he just kisses you harder, more insistent. “Baby, stop,” you manage to whisper, though you don’t mean it at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes all dark, his breath hot against your lips. “You want me to stop?” he teases, his hands still tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that makes your knees go weak.

You shake your head, biting your lip, and his grin widens. “Didn’t think so,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself, and honestly? Neither can you. You’re so turned on, it’s ridiculous. 

“I—fuck,” you pant, trying to get the words out between kisses, but he’s relentless, pressing you back against a wall, his lips latching on to your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin “Baby, please—”

He groans against your neck, one hand sliding up under your top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, and you swear you’re about to lose it. “Please what, hmm?”

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but you’re way past that now. All you can think about is how much you need him. Right now. Anywhere but here.

“Take me to the truck,” you nearly beg him, just loud enough for him to hear, but you know he catches it because he pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide.

He smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing. “Yeah? You need me that bad?”

You nod, not even caring how desperate you sound. “Please.” Your voice cracks a little on the last word, but you don’t care anymore.

You need him, and you need him now.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Forty minute later, the air inside the truck reeks of sex.

You’re breathless, flushed all over, and your legs feel like jelly. Rafe’s next to you, grinning like an idiot already fixing his jeans like he’s not still catching his breath. It’s written all over you—the tousled hair, the smudged lipstick, the way your top is barely hanging on properly as you try to straighten it out, the stickiness you can still feel between your legs, on your panties.

You feel filthy.

You bite back a smile as you adjust your skirt, your body still recovering from the way he had your face pressed against the seat.  

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to get it together, your fingers fumbling to fix your bra strap, “I feel like my makeup’s a mess.”

He just chuckles, leaning back in his seat with that cocky look that made you want to jump him in the first place, “You look perfect,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to go another round.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

He laughs, reaching over to pull you close, his lips pecking your hair, “Worth it.”

You’re just about to leave the truck when the door opens, and as you both step out, you catch sight of Sophie and her friends walking past. Perfect timing. Of course.

She’s glaring—hard—and her friends are snickering, whispering to each other like they’ve just seen something they shouldn't. Sophie’s nose wrinkles as her gaze flicks between you and Rafe, her expression twisting into disgust like you’re both some kind of wild animals who just rolled around in the mud.

But you? You feel smug.

You meet her stare for a second too long, the corner of your mouth lifting in the tiniest, most satisfied smirk. You know she knows exactly what just happened in that truck, and it’s killing her. She’s practically seething, her friends muttering furiously under their breath as they walk by, noses in the air.

Rafe doesn’t even glances their way—his fingers hook into one of the belt loops of your skirt, tugging you back to him with just enough force to make you stumble slightly into his built chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is.

“Thirty more minutes,” he murmurs against your cheek, planting a kiss there, casual but so possessive, his lips lingering just long enough to make your stomach shake with butterflies again, "And I'm taking you home."

And that’s what makes it even sweeter.

[ohtobeleah]

This is kinda how I picture readers cafe in Ilya // Logan Howlett.

Logan sits on that yellow stool day in and day out, just driving you crazy. But its welcome company. You didn't always have that yellow stool. But as your relationship with Logan changed and progressed into something not bound by labels, you got it for him. From the dumpster behind Wades apartment complex.

Before you knew his name, or anything about the brooding man who would eventually hold your heart in the palm of his hand, he'd sit at the table closest to the door. Still admiring from afar.

The books behind the counter have all been left behind by previous owners. They found a new home in your cafe much like Logan dose. He often asks you to pick him out something to read while its quiet, or for when he knows he’ll be back at his place in his own bed.

Your cafe is a wayward sanctuary for mercenaries, avengers, vigilantes and well—criminals. But no matter what there's one golden rule everyone follows. No one disrespects you. It doesn't matter what side they found themselves on or what moral compass they held…if something ever happened to you? It would cause a war.

Logan hangs the lights for you one day when its raining. He's known for months that you've been wanting to hang them up but never put them high enough on your priority list.

There's more blood soaked into the hardwood flooring of your cafe than your convinced is in your body. Its a small price to pay when your customer base is the apparently the scum of the earth. However, You have a pretty good first-aid kit and have been on a first name basis with majority of the first responders in your neighbourhood.

Logan helps you around the cafe more than he'd care to admit. But he knows how much love you out into your business. He knows why you do what you do. You give people who don't have much a place to call home. Somewhere safe. That's one of the many reasons he loves you.

When your daughter, Ilya, is born. Logan makes it his primary purpose to keep that little girl safe and sound at all times. So as you work with her literally on your hip, Logan is there to make sure not a soul comes in to cause trouble. The rule was and always had been ‘No fighting, fucking or freaking out past the threshold’ But sometimes things happen.

Logan babyproofs the cafe top to bottom.

[lokideservesahug]

Bordering Professional

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ferrari/ Future Team Principal!reader

Notes: For some reason, my thoughts are consumed by Charles Leclerc and Ferrari/ Future team principal!reader (+a moodboard)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Charles Leclerc meeting his future team principal... Or so the rumours say. Fred Vasseur is good but this rising star is better. You're not only extremely talented and overwhelmingly intelligent, but you're also incredibly captivating. Cameras have caught drivers stopping to catch glimpses multiple times. From Lewis readily talking to you whenever you visit the paddock (in what he claims is getting to know his future team better) to the time Max faltered for a moment in his post qualifying interviews as he caught sight of you in that outfit that accentuated your features all to well. You're captivating and everyone knows it.

You know the effect you have on many. And if it isn't your brains or beauty turning heads, your family name certainly is. Being one of the last to carry the Ferrari name is certainly a burden but you pay it no mind. People can't even complain about nepotism when you help the team so much and half of the paddock follows you around like lost puppies. Making life much easier for all.

Charles finds it quite professionalism quote infuriating (when it doesn't get him going, not that he'll admit that). Your sheer refusal to blur any lines with him or anyone else in the paddock is infuriating but keeps a small part of him happy, knowing that he doesn't have any competition or at the very least it's all equal.

You're there in Monaco when he gets the win. All bright smiles and Italian praises thrown at him. But they all blur into insignificance when you kiss him on the cheek. It's a quick peck. Nothing more. But gosh does it send him reeling. Charles wants nothing more in that moment than to swoop you into his arms and kiss you senseless. He's brought back to reality by the feeling of Fred engulfing him in a hug and he tries to rationalise his thoughts. "It's just the adrenaline" he tells himself.

He never thought a moment could top that. And whilst he doesn't want to compare two of the most joyous moments in his life, Monza 2024 is certainly up there with Monaco.

He wins. In front of what many would call his second home crowd. He wins in front of the Italians, the Tifosi but most importantly, you. Your professionalism bleeds into all aspects of your life. You don't show much emotion unless you need to, most people can count the times they've seen you smile even the slightest on one hand. Yet he's met by another one of your big grins. And as he realises two of the happiest moments of his life also being you a lot of joy, Charles can't help but fall more and more in love with you. You give him a tight hug and whisper "Well done Charlie." To which he just grins. He takes in your feautures, trying his hardest to commit this moment to memory. He almost swears he can see tears in your eyes as well but he's pulled away before he can come to a definite conclusion.

That night he stays a bit later, wanting to soak up the last bits of energy at the track before he hits the streets of Monza. He finds you and does something that he'd only dreamed off. He kisses you in an adrenaline filled haze, desperate to show his appreciation and affection for you. Charles didn't think far ahead, but as the kiss goes on, he's surprised that you didn't pull away and hit him. After a few more moments you both pull away. He expects to be lectured about how unprofessional it was, about how it ruins the both of your careers and images. But instead he's just met with a quick peck (the same type as the one you gave him at Monza) but this time on the lips. His eyes widen as you chuckle slightly and turn on your heel. "Well done Il Predestinato. See you in Baku."

And as he watches you walk off, Charles' suspicions are confirmed. He knows he shouldn't, you're probably his future boss and at the very least you're his co-worker. Heck your family surname is surrounding him, his suit is brandishing the logo of the company you'll one day inherit.... But Charles doesn't care. He just knows that he's completely and irrevocably in love with you.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Sorry for how random this was... Also I tries my hardest to make it gender neutral. Idk where this came from or why but I hope you like it...

And please send any asks if you want to, or want me to elaborate on this...

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[yanderes-galore]

Hiii! Absolutely in love with your writing! Never thought you'd ever write for Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel. Out of your top fandoms, may I propose that the reader is immune to Vox's hypnosis? Having this rare ability, they try escaping the V tower but it ends up being the biggest mistake. This TV seems to be possessive and canonically a control freak like a lot of TV based characters (looking at you Mr. Puzzles) lol! I know you're a busy person with their own life in the end of the day so I won't be mad if you refuse to write this. I love the content you provide us with already <3

Sure! I wasn't sure if you wanted a concept or a one shot, so I just focused on rambling out my thoughts on it. It could work either way though so maybe I'll follow this up sometime.

Yandere! Vox with Darling immune to hypnosis

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Anger issues, Kidnapping/Post-Kidnapping, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Mentions of Val's smoke/Drugging, Forced relationship.

It's hard to say who, at this time, has immunity to Vox's hypnotism.

It's currently only known to grab the attention of people who are... paying attention.

So, maybe you're oblivious or just never paying attention to his hypnotism.

Which in itself is incredibly frustrating to Vox.

However, another method is natural immunity.

I'm thinking maybe you're also an Overlord that has to, unfortunately, have meetings with The Vees due to a partnership.

Vox probably still outranks you, yet you're strong enough to resist his powers.

Another option is simply having a specific type of gear or tech you created that blocks his hypnotism.

Regardless... One way or another Vox can't use one of his most powerful tools on you...

Which naturally makes him pissy.

He can't do his usual subtle charms against you, carefully manipulating you into listening and being his.

Even when he captures you, you never seem to listen.

Normally it's easy for Vox to make other demons listen to him.

Unless they're Valentino or Alastor.

But now he has yet another demon who can just... ignore it.

He has so many fits when he tries to trick you into something, only for you to shut him down.

It's humbling and he hates it.

So, if Vox wants to keep you in the V Tower, he has to expect more resistance.

In fact, normally escape attempts would be amusing as he can just charm you again.

But now he can't do that.

I feel your immunity would stress Vox out at times.

Even if he manages to manipulate you into V Tower, keeping you there is difficult.

Vox is naturally charming, so you may agree with what he says at first.

Hell, maybe you two were dating before things went wrong or at the very least on friendly terms.

Then he goes crazy and locks you in your own personal room with high security and everything.

Vox was once drawn to (and frustrated with) you due to your immunity.

That was what got him obsessed in the first place before he started having all these... feelings.

Sinful feelings.

You're distracting, even more so when he can't charm you to give him attention.

So what better way to force your attention than manipulate you into the tower.

Maybe you were meant to be another V, but once you had enough of Vox and his obsessive behavior, you tried to leave.

Only for Vox to lock you away.

As he can't charm his way into making you listen, now he has to keep you by other means.

Such as cameras, screens, electronic locks, all sorts of security.

Fine... You may be able to bypass his hypnosis...

But he has other means to keep you his.

The issue he ends up finding though is a lack of affection.

He can't charm you into giving it to him.

You ignore him and no matter how hard he tries... You never pay attention.

Considering how Vox thrives on attention...

This is devastating and leaves him screaming in frustration.

One way I can see him forcing you to be more... attentive is using Val.

Vox would probably somehow get Val to give him some of his smoke/spit.

Disgusting and disturbing? Yes... but that's the point.

Vox seems like the type of person to control you in other ways, since he loves control.

If you tried to escape your high security prison, or withheld affection from Vox, you're essentially getting gassed/drugged.

He most likely would test it with just a bit.

Then afterwards, depending on his mood, would up the dosage.

(This makes my skin crawl-)

Of course, escape was never going to end well for you.

Vox will find some way to break you.

Be that showing you his security, using Val, or isolating you...

Vox is going to force your attention to make you rely on him.

There's no genuine love with him.

Only ownership.

Escaping is near impossible with his coworkers, employees, and security.

At some point, you'll break and only have him to greet you...

Leaving Vox to embrace you with eager arms, his claws digging into your skin once you're finally his.

[beachlifelez]

Elizabeth had decided it was time to expand Mary’s submissiveness horizons.

When they got to the hotel parking lot, she told Mary to hand over her panties. Mary got the deer in the headlights look and Elizabeth just said “Now!” And reached into the top of Mary’s dress and pinched one of her nipples hard.

Mary apologized and took off her panties and handed them to Elizabeth.

“That’s better. Let’s go.”

They walked into the lobby. Elizabeth scouted the room.

“Over there, perfect.”

Elizabeth led Mary to a set of chairs and had Mary sit in one with her back to the lobby. She sat in a chair opposite Mary.

“Ok, show me you’re not wearing panties. And don’t fuss or else it will get much worse.”

Mary knew that tone. She slowly raised her dress and showed Elizabeth her naked pussy.

“Keep it lifted. Let me admire you.”

Mary nervously kept her dress pulled up. She was also getting very flushed and could feel her juices begin to flow. Letting Elizabeth direct her was certainly an undeniable turn on. Elizabeth, of course, knew this.

“Ok, I know this is getting you excited. Show me how wet you’re getting. Open yourself for me.”

Mary slowly opened her legs. People walked by but weren’t paying attention, thank goodness.

“Such a pretty pussy, I must admit. She looks in need of petting, I think.”

“No, Elizabeth, please.”

“But I can tell you want to. You need to. Rub your pussy for me. For one minute. Then we’ll go to our room and you can lick mine. No arguments, please.”

“Yes, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth was right; Mary definitely needed to rub her pussy. And so, she did as Elizabeth instructed. And rubbed her clit for a full minute. Elizabeth nodded when time was up, and Mary was allowed to cover up before being noticed.

She had passed this test. But Elizabeth had many more tests planned for the weekend.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Powerbottom!Phil (2) Masterlist

part one

Consume Me (because I'm all yours) (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), embarrassing_myself

Summary: Dom!powerbottom!phil and sub!top!dan hcs with a lot of praise and teasing

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

domino’s pizza (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: dan can’t stop thinking about calling phil ‘daddy’ again, but his anxiety makes it feel impossible to communicate his desires with phil. but phil always knows when something’s up, and dan can’t bear to keep things from him.

Experience is key (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: On a fateful late-night walk, Dan happens across two oddly familiar young men in the park.

Grey Sweatpants (ao3) - Absolutefilthimsosorry

Summary: Set after the filming of the fall guys dvp where dan was wearing grey sweatpants.

How He Wants It (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan is a bit of a hopeless top and Phil isn’t having that.

"Is this on?" (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Dan and Phil set up to film in the hotel room, but get distracted. They don't know the mic is recording.

Like Fine Print (ao3) - totalincandescense

Summary: Every few weeks, Dan was given an unfriendly reminder of at least one of the many reasons why he never went outside.

The most frequently recurring thing on the list being the general existence of people.

But more specifically, the existence of people who flirted with Phil.

Netflix and Phil (ao3) - cynx_17_kh

Summary: What happens when Phil can't sleep and he doesnt know what to do? He pays Dan a visit and the escalate quickly.

No Evil Angel But Love (ao3) - benotafraidofwriting

Summary: All Prince Daniel Howell wanted to do was escape from a future of a loveless marriage and a miserable life. He got more than he bargained for when he summoned the most powerful sorcerer in the world to help him do so.

Restrain Yourself (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Phil buys a harness for Dan, you know, for fashion.

The Father and The Nun (ao3) - cosmic_angel_writes

Summary: Sister Daniel has wanted nothing but Father Philip since she first joined the church. Today is the day she finally gets what she wants.

the pool noodle fight (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Navigating the emotional aftermath of Phil's near-death experience with the help of, uh, some foam pool toys.

To be loved (ao3) - Thedemonqueen

Summary: Dan knows Phil insisted they’re together. Dan knows Phil loves him. But it doesn’t stop Dan from feeling dirty when he wants to touch Phil.

what, like it's hard? (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: title, obviously, from legally blonde

[rose-colored-tarot]

Got a cold offer on being a “tarot consultant” a few weeks ago and something didn’t sit right with me. So I investigated and it seems to be an app based psychic hotline. Think B*tterH*lp with divination.

With that in mind - there is nothing wrong with paying an individual for divination, but think several times before you pay a company.

[knaveofmogadore]

You ever have a customer with a legitimate problem but they're such an asshole that they extinguish the embers of empathy within you with their insolence?

[complicit-rot]

i haven't been this social & talkative in Years someone drag me out back

[louderfade]

exene talking about the state of the world. the good stuff starts at eight minutes. or you can just read the transcript complete with the usual errors that accompany robot transcribed speech (the irony of which is not lost on me). maybe it's not about transhumanism and living forever (or maybe it is who knows), but there's definitely an agenda of surveillance and control at work which is designed to keep the powerful in power. cash rules everything around me and you will own nothing etc. the future is worse.

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

"Prostitution is the world's oldest profession..." and "The "i" in lie" are great songs because they both talk about the same thing -- selling yourself out in the music industry-- from two different viewpoints

[protocolseben]

jklkhjhjg

[novella-november]

Novella November 2024 Announcement Post

Hate AI, but love writing challenges?

Want to take part in a global, fun project to write a Novella in one month?

Grab some friends, and take part in Novella November, by writing 1,000 words a day for the month of November, ending with a 30,000 word Novella to test and stretch your novel-writing skills!

Your goal is not perfection, but merely getting into the habit of writing a litte bit every single day :D

No website, no sign-ups -- Just a community initiative to write using only your own word!

What are the rules? Just Three so far!

#1 - No AI

#2 - No Plagiarizing

#3 - Wordcount for the month should only come from what you write during the month.

What does that mean?

Only words written during November should go towards your Wordcount for the month... but! Feel free to use your 30k words as a continuation of previous writing, or just make it the first 30k words in a longer novel!

Don't think you can write a whole entire 30k word story? Write a series of short stories that total up to 30k!

Not ready to write original works yet? Write a 30k word fanfiction that you can post after the month is over!

Share your writing experience, tips, encouragement, and questions in the #Novella November tag!

---

EDIT, from the tags: Want a progress tracker? Track your progress with TrackBear!

https://trackbear.app/

Don't have a word processor? Use LibreOffice , the free and open-source alternative to Microsoft Word!

Want to organize/storyboard your Novel and don't want to pay a subscription? Try 7writer by Simon Haynes!

Want to be able to listen to your story aloud for proofreading using TTS (text to speech)? Try Balabolka!

Or, create some custom progress / Goal Cards in advance you can fill out as you reach word goals! For ideas and templates, search this blog for "goal cards" :D

Want to do a writing challenge in more than just November? Check out my ideas here for year round challenges to keep you writing consistently! Got feedback? Send it in, I'd love to see everyone's ideas!

---

EDIT 2: I almost forgot to mention, if you are unable to write/type your story, you can also narrate/dictate your story to your preferred recording device!

If you're doing a Recording only and it doesn't automatically generate a transcript, it would obviously be hard to judge the word count -- but you're also working with a lot of obstacles, so I'd say if you're able to complete your story via voice recording from start to finish, you've definitely achieved the goal!

Edit #3: added the title "Novella November 2024 announcement post" to the top to make it more standard with my Ominous October and Drabble December posts (will be updating Outline October shortly) , added "Official Announcement Post 2024" to the tags so people can easily find the monthly events for 2024, and added a bit of bold to the third bullet point in the original post from September 2nd 2024 for emphasis.