#always a pleasure meaning he's a repeat customer

[sunskate]

[ariestrxsh]

🍕 content warning: smut, praise, jealousy, masturbation, oral (f! & m!receiving), edging, begging, unprotected sex, light choking, sub!pizzaboy!chris, dom!boss!reader

🍕 author's note: this series follows sub!pizzaboy!chris and his tendency to mix business and pleasure. in part one, he sleeps with a customer after delivering pizza to her. in part two, he sleeps with a cop that pulls him over for speeding. now he must use his magnetic charm to seduce his boss to avoid getting in trouble for coming back late from a delivery.

🍕 summary: you can't help but get a little jealous when you find out your favorite employee, chris, has been sharing his meat with everyone but you.

pizza guy part three

"That delivery should have only taken twenty minutes. Why did it take you an hour and a half?" You inquired, peering up from the nightly paperwork at Chris, who had just walked through the front door of the otherwise empty pizza shop.

He could immediately feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

Chris was your best employee when he wanted to be, but he was constantly pushing the boundaries with you and taking advantage of how much you let him get away with. You could never fire him, though, and he knew that.

He had too many redeeming qualities. He was always covering shifts, bringing in good reviews, and working without complaining. He was also extremely polite and had a lot of respect for authority, always calling you ma'am and asking what you needed from him.

Chris' only downfall was that he couldn't help but mix business and pleasure - always getting high on the job and entertaining the women who were metaphorically lined up for him in between deliveries and sometimes on deliveries.

He always had a good excuse, though. And when he didn't have an excuse, he'd turn on the charm. He saw the way you looked at him, your hungry gaze that would linger for a few seconds too long, and he recognized the need in your voice, every word coated with lust. He knew that in your eyes, he could do no wrong. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't above using that to his benefit.

"Chris. Where the hell have you been?" You repeated, interrogating him. "Sorry, ma'am.." he apologized, forcing a pout. "I got pulled over," which wasn't technically a lie. "Oh, Chris. You poor thing," you responded, your tone immediately changing as you walked over to him, giving the sweet boy a hug.

"Did you get a ticket?" You wondered, cradling his flushed face. "No, ma'am. Almost. I think the police officer has a little bit of a crush on me," Chris said, his blue eyes flickering back up at yours as he tried to hold back a smirk. Can't blame her, you thought, studying his handsome features as his seemingly innocent smile stared back at you.

You detected a scent on Chris, one you could recognize anywhere and one you'd already addressed with him. "Chris. Are you stoned right now?" You glared at him, looking at the redness in the whites of his eyes, dropping your hand from his face. "What?! No!" He objected defensively, avoiding eye contact.

"There's no way you just got pulled over. If a cop looked at you for longer than two seconds, you'd be in the back of the cop car in cuffs right now. I bet you were at your dealer's house," you accused him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm not lying, ma'am. She did put me in cuffs," Chris responded, his cock stirring in his jeans as he recounted the events that took place earlier in the night. "You mean to tell me, you went from being cuffed to walking away without even getting a ticket?" You shot him a skeptical look.

He showed you his wrists, pointing out the red marks left behind from the metal that dug into them under the weight of himself and the cop while she riding him. "Don't worry about how I got off, ma'am. All's that matters is that I did," Chris responded, his gaze locked on yours.

You bit down on your lip, imagining Chris in restraints, offering to do anything to keep a clean driving record. You knew it was wrong. After all, he was your subordinate, but that was another reason you could never fire him.

He was so hot, and he knew it. He had this way of looking at you and talking to you when he knew he was about to get into trouble that immediately made you melt. You couldn't stay mad at him. Not even if you wanted to.

"Chris, you gotta be careful. I don't care you if you smoke weed, but you can't keep doing it on the job! You could have gotten yourself into big trouble tonight!" You jabbed your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look.

The truth was, you'd bail him out of jail if you could, but as much as you wanted to protect Chris from the consequences of his actions, you could only do so much when it came to the law. "I'm only hard on you because I care about you," you whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I know, but it makes me feel so good. Don't you like things that make you feel good, ma'am?" Chris asked, a bit of seduction seeping into his tone. You stood in silence for a moment, studying his pretty blue eyes and his pouty lips as he looked you up and down. You avoided his question.

"You know, Chris. I read a really interesting review someone left a while back about you while you were gone," you smirked, sauntering back over to your desk and pulling up the review on the computer. "Was it a good one?" He wondered, his facial features softening as he hoped you were about to start praising him.

"I don't know, you tell me. 'Their driver, Chris, has the best Italian sausage in town. He always goes the extra mile to please the customer,'" you read it word-for-word. "What could she have meant by that, huh?" You wondered with a bit of jealousy lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"I think she just really liked my meat, ma'am. I mean, the shop's meat," he corrected himself, giving you another sultry smile. "Is it the shop's meat? Because I certainly haven't been getting any," you remarked, glancing down at the outline of his half-hard cock in his jeans.

"Oh, ma'am. It would be so wrong," Chris purred, secretly enticed by the moral complexity of the idea of sleeping with his boss. His eyes dropped to your figure as his imagination took over, picturing how certain parts of your body would jiggle while riding him.

"Makes it even hotter, doesn't it? How wrong it is? What do I have to do to get a taste of your meat, huh?" You asked, getting up from your desk and slowly making your way towards him again. "All's you have to do is ask, ma'am," Chris responded with allure in his tone, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I finished everything while you were getting pulled over," you smirked. "Why don't you come home with me, sweetie? It's the least you could do. I'll take really good care of you," you flirtatiously responded, leaning in and kissing his neck. You took both his hands and placed them on your waist.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Please take me home with you. Take good care of me," he whimpered as he tilted his head to the side to give you better access, immediately giving into your advances.

Your lips were so soft, and Chris couldn't get enough of the way they felt on the sensitive nerve endings on his neck, sending blood rushing to the tip of his cock as a few luscious moans escaped.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You cooed, running your fingers along the bulge in his pants as your kisses grew slower, deeper, and more passionate. "Yes, ma'am," Chris mewled, grinding against your palm.

"Down, boy," you said, smiling and petting his package through his jeans as you retreated from kissing his neck. He nearly sobbed when you pulled away. "Oh, ma'am. You're so cruel. Getting me all riled up when we still have a long drive ahead of us," he whispered, already feeling lightheaded from the way you handled him.

"You were cruel first. Leaving me here all alone while you entertain other women. Don't you know how bad I need you here with me, Chris?" You wondered, your words drenched in envy as you delicately ran your hand across his chest.

Of course, you meant it in a professional sense, needing him at the store to help you close up, but you also meant it in a much more primal sense, and he did know. He'd known for a while now, but Chris wasn't the type to make the first move. He'd been waiting for you to finally say it. He nodded.

"Show me how bad you need me," he seductively whispered, tempting you. "Let's lock up, shall we?" You said, taking Chris by the hand, leading him towards the front door, and shutting off all the lights on your way out.

The two of you stepped out into the dark, chilly night, the breeze biting at your nose and stinging your lungs as you inhaled. You slipped the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, and you tugged on the freezing cold handle for good measure.

Chris followed you to your nice, shiny, black SUV and climbed into your passenger seat. You started the ignition, your engine roaring as it turned over. You turned on the heat, placing your palm in front of the fan, waiting for the air to warm up.

Chris was still rock hard, his eager cock straining against the denim fabric he wore and his mind swirling with the possibilities of what you were going to do with him once the two of you made it back to your place.

"So, what really happened with that cop?" You deviously wondered, glaring at him before looking back at the road you started down. Chris blushed. "She handcuffed me and put me in the back of her car. Then whatever you think happened is probably what happened next," Chris smugly suggested.

You bit your lip, letting your imagination run wild. "And the customer, Chris? You naughty boy," you clicked your tongue at him, shaking your head. His head fell lazily against the headrest as he peered over at you with a submissive expression.

"Ma'am. I promise I'm a good boy. I don't have a naughty bone in my body," Chris lustfully responded, his cock beginning to twitch in his pants as his eyes danced over your lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around him. "Well, maybe one," he quietly admitted, shifting around, trying to adjust his aching erection.

"Take it out for me, Chris," you demanded. "Right now?" He asked, an upward inflection in his voice as his brows flew up. "Yes. Show me that pretty cock that the girls can't get enough of, hmm?" You hissed, placing your hand on his thigh and making it jump again. "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, unclasping his belt, undoing his button, and lowering his zipper.

Your eyes shifted between the road and his dick, favoring one more than the other as he started to pull it out. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slightly open at the sight. "You like what you see, ma'am?"

You couldn't find the words to describe just how much you did, so you settled for a subtle nod. Its size was intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He went to wrap his long fingers around his veiny shaft, but you swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say you could play with it," you teased him. He gave you a pout, his brows turning up in a look of anguish. "But I need it," Chris whined.

"I thought you said you were a good boy, hmm? Don't good boys listen and do what they're told?" You purred, playing upon Chris' praise kink and his need for your approval. He hesitantly nodded. "Then behave, Chris." You lightly patted his thigh again, driving him mad with your touch. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Why don't we play a game? And if you're a good boy and play the game correctly, then I'll let you touch with it," You suggested, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "What kind of game?" Chris wondered, eager to let his hands wander below his waist.

"The kind of game where you tell me what happened with that customer who left that review while you stroke yourself, but you have to do exactly as I say. And you better listen and tell me exactly what happened or else you're in big trouble," you told him.

"But ma'am, I'm gonna get in trouble with you anyway," Chris quietly pouted, worried you were going to fire him for lying about his slashed tires that night.

"Oh, Chris. You could never be in trouble with me as long as you tell the truth," you cooed, softly running the back of your hand along his cheek. "You promise?" He timidly asked. "I promise," you replied, and you meant it.

"Go ahead, Chris. Start touching it," you voiced, giving him permission. His hand moved towards his cock, firmly gripping it, and he let out a relieved sigh as he started slowly stroking.

"So, tell me, Chris. Who instigated the interaction? You or her?" You interrogated him, glancing between the road and his swollen head, a wet patch forming on the front of your panties. "She did, ma'am," Chris told you.

"Did you go inside her house?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know I'm not supposed to, but.." Chris started to say. "But what? Answer me, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am. I did go into her house," Chris whimpered, his gaze meeting yours. "How'd she get you to stay, hmm?" You purred, watching Chris' facial features soften as he relaxed into his pleasure.

"She made me a cup of hot cocoa and started kissing my neck. She told me to call you and give you an excuse as to why I couldn't come back to work. Told me she'd make it worth it," Chris admitted, looking nervously at you with his blue eyes.

You gasped. "You naughty boy," you narrowed your gaze at him, a little annoyed that he had faked an excuse to get out of work but a little turned on by the fact that he'd done it to get his dick wet. "She made me call you while she was sucking me off," Chris replied, a smirk forming in the corner of his pink lips.

"You called me while she sucked you off?" You repeated what he just told you to make sure you heard him correctly. You squeezed your thighs together as you pictured him on the phone with you while he had his cock in another woman's mouth. "Mhmm," Chris nodded, pumping his length faster as it quivered against his palm.

"Slow down, Chris. You're gonna have to make yourself last a long time, so don't get too carried away," you smirked at him, thinking about how long you were gonna make him wait to finish. He took a deep breath and slowed the pace. "That's very naughty of you, sweetie," you responded in a voice just above a whisper.

The rest of the drive to your destination, you teased Chris, trying to extract information from him about his most recent sexual encounters, and he spilled the details to you relunctantly. Despite his hesitancy, his cock gave him away, jerking at every word you spoke that jogged his memory.

"Did she ride you, Chris?" You provocatively asked, and you watched it twitch again, listening closely as a soft whine passed through his lips. "I think she did.." you answered your own question, giving him a playful smile.

"You like it when the girl's in charge, don't you? You love to be bossed around in bed," you insinuated, and you watched Chris blush and nod in response as he ran the tip of his thumb through his precum, spreading it around on his sensitive head.

The banter between you and Chris was enticing to say the least, and the whole time you were soaking wet, buzzing with excitement about what Chris would be like in bed and how good his pretty dick would feel lodged inside of you while you bounce up and down on it.

You saw how close he was getting as you turned onto your street, and before he could finish, you stopped him. "Be a good boy, Chris. Put it away for a second. His eyes were filled with hurt and desperation, but he nodded and did as he was told.

Once you pulled into your garage, you turned to Chris, gently grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face just a few inches from yours as you locked your hungry gaze onto his.

"Look. Normally, I'd invite you in, give you something to drink, offer you something to eat, show you around. I don't have the fucking patience for that right now, Chris. What we're gonna do is go straight to my room, and you're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use you however I want for as long as I want. Got it?" You demanded.

Chris obediently nodded, his face conveying desire. You took Chris' hand, leading him in through your warm and cozy house that smelled like apple cinammon. You guided him up your stairs and into your bedroom.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, your mouth crashing into his as the sexual tension between the two of you built to an all-time high. His pretty moans vibrated against your lips as you reached under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against his hip bones as you hooked them onto the hem of the material.

You pulled away long enough to pull his uniform off over his head, and you quickly dropped to your knees. Chris looked down at you, wetting his lips as he silently begged you with his eyes to do what he thought you were going to do. You unbuttoned his jeans, slid the zipper down, and pulled down his pants and his underwear.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as if you were getting ready to please his cock, but you couldn't let him finish without a little more teasing. Instead, you retreated, standing to your feet as a look of disappointment seeped into Chris' expression.

It was just as hard for you as it was for him. You'd imagined this scenario a hundred times, and you couldn't wait to hear the pretty sounds he'd make while you suck on it, but the fact that you'd been waiting so long for it, made you want to savor every moment, every kiss, every touch..

You gently pushed him back onto your bed, and his eyes danced over you while he propped himself up on his elbows as you shed off your own layers, letting them fall to your feet. You climbed on top of him, pulling him into another passionate kiss as the two of you rolled around on your silky soft sheets.

"Be a good boy for me, Chris. Let me sit on your pretty face," you demanded from him, but it didn't take much persuasion. "Oh, yes, ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice," Chris eagerly replied as you gently pushed him down, guiding him to lie flat on his back.

You straddled his face, placing your knees on either side of his head and lowering your pussy onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue explored your folds, flickering back and forth over your sensitive clit.

You entangled your fingers in his messy hair, and you gently tugged on it, causing him to moan against you while his eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration that passed through his lips reverberated against your vulva, pleasure rushing through you.

You gently rocked your hips back and forth, riding Chris' face and grinding against his silky, wet tongue. You peered down into his gorgeous blue eyes as you combed through his brown locks. "You're such a good boy, Chris," you whispered, enjoying the feeling of his lips as he wrapped them around your bundle of nerves and started tenderly sucking on it.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that," you encouraged him. He nuzzled into your heat, relishing in the lovely sounds that left your lips and the way you rutted against his face, all testaments to how good he was making you feel. He could eat you for hours.

He reached up and grabbed your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers. He moaned against your clit a few more times as he delicately sucked on it, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. You felt pressure building in your lower stomach as you tightened the grip of your thighs around Chris' head.

"Good boy," you whimpered again, your body beginning to shiver as your pleasure reached a crescendo. His cock twitched at your praises, and his hands moved to your waist, stabilizing you as he admired the way you looked from this angle.

He took your clit between his lips and gently tugged on it until you were coming undone. You threw your head back and started fervently grinding against his face, losing yourself in your orgasm as you released onto his tongue.

He lapped up every last bit of your wetness, savoring the sweetness that filled his senses. Once you were completely satisfied, he removed his mouth from your pussy. "Did I do a good job, ma'am?" Chris asked, his big, blue eyes staring back at yours with his chin covered in your juices.

"Oh, sweetheart. You always do. You were perfect. Such a good boy," you purred breathlessly as you ruffled his hair once more, starting to lift yourself off of him. "Get comfortable, sweetie. Let me take care of you," you cooed.

"Yes, please," he politely answered, nestling among your mess of pillows and propping himself up against your headboard. He loved it when you took charge. He kept his eyes locked on yours as you placed yourself between his legs.

He'd been hard for the past hour, desperate for you to take it into your mouth, but you were still savoring every moment, and he secretly adored all the teasing. You drew a line from the base of his dick all the way up his length with your soft tongue, and it twitched in response.

You gently kissed his tip, slurping up the shiny, clear fluid that was slowly leaking out as you slowly stroked his dick. He let out a soft, pleasured sound as your tongue made contact with all his sensitive nerve endings, and you started delicately flicking it across his swollen, pink head.

"How's that?" You asked in a soft voice. "So good," he whined as you started combining the two techniques, sucking on it while your tongue got to work, fluttering around in the best-feeling places. Pretty noises poured from his lips as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly on his length and learning every vein with your tongue.

He smiled down at you and tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head, silently asking you to take more of him. You listened by sliding your lips all the way down his shaft until he was hitting the back of your throat. He gasped as you took it all so effortlessly. "How'd you learn to do that, ma'am?" He whimpered, peering down at you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as you chuckled, humming around the base.

You sped up your movements, sloppily drooling and making a mess all over his cock. "Please let me cum. Please," Chris moaned, his luscious voice spilling into the air. Despite how politely he asked, you took him out of your mouth long enough to give him a smirk and shake your head no.

"Please, please, please," his jagged breaths becoming whiny and needy. You ignored his begging and continued your pace, bringing him dangerously close to the edge before withdrawing all stimulation. He let out a few strangled moans as his cock twitched some more, begging to be sucked on again.

You loved how responsive he was and how his body language reacted to every subtle touch. You wrapped your lips around him again, and a stream of lustful noises flowed from him. You looked into his blue eyes that were silently pleading with you. You could see how desperate he was, which made you want to edge him even more.

"Please," he whispered again as if you didn't hear him the first half a dozen times he asked for you to let him finish. "You're going to have to be a good boy and wait," you teased him, removing your mouth again and shifting around on the bed. He responded with a subtle nod.

You began to straddle him, guiding his rod towards your entrance, and you let out a delighted hum as you lowered yourself down onto him. Chris' head gently fell back and tapped the headboard as you squelched around him.

"Oh, Chris. You're so big," you moaned. "So I've been told," Chris chuckled. He couldn't help how much that compliment stroked his ego. You started to ride him, your breasts bouncing in his face as he latched onto your nipples, tenderly sucking on each one. His hands wandered towards your ass, and he squeezed your soft flesh, whimpering against your chest.

"Good boy," you praised him as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his head. You leaned down and started sucking on a sensitive place on his neck, and he whined into your ear as he tried to hold on while you were actively working against him. "Please let me cum," he asked again patiently and politely with desire in his expression.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you cooed into the crook of his neck as you continued lightly sucking on it. Whimpers escaped his mouth as you picked up the pace, your strides becoming faster and rougher. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he tried to hold on to please you.

He was always able to hold the different perspectives of you in his mind, both the professional view he had of you and the sexual desire he felt toward you. He couldn't help but delight in the way the two versions of you merged in front of him. He'd always loved how bossy you were, but the way you were ordering him around in bed gave your bossy nature a whole new meaning to him, and he adored it.

He loved the way you bounced on him, your moans becoming louder and more urgent. He could feel you clenching around his cock, which made it even harder for him to fend off his long-awaited orgasm.

"Please, please, please," he begged some more, losing his composure. "Please let me cum, ma'am," he sweetly requested, his dick already beginning to throb inside of you. He wasn't exactly asking for your permission but more or less warning you that he couldn't hold off anymore.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?" You asked, peering into his bedroom eyes and examining his flushed, pink cheeks and the way he kept licking his lips. "More than anything, ma'am," he whimpered, his eyelids growing heavy and his mouth falling open.

"Only because you've been such a good boy," you commented, caressing his jawline with your thumb and moving your hand to his throat. You gripped his neck, lightly choking him which sent him over the edge.

A few strangled moans passed through his lips as his eyes rolled back and his head gently thumped against the headboard again. His climax hit him like a freight train, barreling through him and sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body.

He shot his load up into you as you finished onto him, the room filling with both of your satisfied sounds. You involuntarily dug your nails into the flesh of his neck, intensifying how good it felt for him. You slumped forward, pulling him into a warm embrace as you throbbed around him.

"Chris, I've been wanting to do that forever," you breathlessly whispered into his ear. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often, huh? It really seems to get your attention," Chris smugly remarked, smirking at you. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have to try to get my attention. You just always have it."

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[ihatemakingusernames]

Here he was again, the big, fat, wobbling tub of lard approaching my coffee shop for the third time this week... It's Wednesday, he's here every day.

Though we do this every morning, I couldn't help but get excited by how wheezy he sounded as he approached the counter. Little beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead as he desperately tried to calm his embarrassingly loud breathing.

"The usual?" I asked, knowing his order by heart. He nodded his assent, still trying to catch his breath.

I prepared a large iced coffee, with heavy cream and extra caramel - fantasizing yet again about pouring in a caramel boost as well. I tossed a buttery chocolate croissant, two heavy, rich, cheese danishes, and two warm bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches into a bag for him. Feeling flirtatious, I also tossed in a fresh chocolate chip cookie as well - on the house.

I handed the coffee and the very full bag over to him. I could see his plump face light up when he saw the cookie on top.

"Thanks, Audrey!" He said.

I smiled and winked at him. "Anything for my best customer!"

As I watched him waddle away, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like shoving each delicious bite into his greedy mouth.

The rest of the day wore on until about an hour before closing time. The shop was slow and I was busying myself wiping countertops and packing up the leftover baked goods - I usually donated whatever was left at the end of the day, I hated seeing good food go to waste - but then I was greeted by a familiar huffing and puffing.

"Oh? Back again are we?" I asked, "I've only ever had the pleasure of seeing you once a day!"

"Audrey," he said through wheezing breaths "I just wanted to thank you for your kindness. Those extra goodies you've been adding to my order have really been delicious, but," he ducked his head to hide his blushing cheeks, "I'm going to have to cut back." "I've been starting to notice that I've put on a few pounds and if you keep giving me all the extras I can't help but eat them!" He placed a hand gently on his bulbous gut for emphasis.

I could feel my cheeks flush and a familiar heat of arousal warm my body. "I'm not sure what you mean, if anything you look like you've lost weight!" I lied.

"Oh come on, Audrey," he chuckled. "If you had given me any more free food, I'd almost think you wanted to see me fatter!"

I blushed even harder, if I wanted him to know my true intentions... And take any shot of fulfilling my fantasies... This was it.

"I do want to make you fatter." I muttered almost under my breath.

He cocked his head at me. "You what?"

It was now or never. "I do want to make you fatter," I repeated, a little louder. "I love seeing how much bigger you get week by week... It's kind of... Sexy."

"Y-you do??" He stammered in disbelief.

"I really do," I admitted. "I know it sounds strange but I take pride in the weight I've put on you." I dared to reach out and touch the fat belly I've been daydreaming about for ages. "It looks good on you."

He relaxed at my touch and said "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a crush on the cute barista at the coffee shop, little did I know all I'd have to do to impress her was eat!"

I started moving my hands across his enormous gut, feeling every pound I'd put on it. With a crooked smile, I teasingly raised an eyebrow, "Well, you could always eat a little more?"

"I have been feeling a bit hungry," he said "I wonder if there's anywhere with a few good pastries?"

I jumped up to lock the door and close the blinds. "I think I can help with that!"

I had already packed four full bags of leftover pastries, I picked them up and brought them to a small table. "Here, sit," I commanded.

He did as he was told and sat down. The small bistro chair creaked beneath him, he seemed a bit apprehensive resting his full weight down, but that only served to make me hornier. I picked up two huge, glazed apple fritters and sat atop the table. He looked up at me as I pressed one to his mouth. He took a small, delicate bite.

"Really? You're going to tell me you've packed on this much weight taking such little bites?" I teased.

He smiled and began to eat with gusto. I had stuffed about a bag and a half of food into him before he leaned back in his chair and groaned. "Ugh, Audrey, I am stuffed! I don't know how much more I can..."

*CRACK*

The chair snapped beneath him and he spilled onto the ground.

"Oh my God, are you okay!?" I rushed to his side and he just started laughing, it took all my strength to help him heave himself off the ground. He said, "had I known how badly you wanted to feed me, I would have asked you to dinner months ago!"

I chuckled. "Well there's no time like the present, is there?"

"You want to go to dinner? Now??" He asked, glancing down at his stuffed gut and looking around at the mess.

"I thought you'd never ask!" I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. The mess could wait, but I couldn't wait any longer.

[pricegouge]

this time you can thank woolie and stelle for this one

part three of the honey series

font

gaz x f!reader

cw: f!reader. microphilia, objectification, exhibitionism. dubcon kinda but everyone is into it. MDNI

kyle had asked for dinner and a show, but it's hard to command a room at your size. harder still when you're trapped in a drink dispenser.

men stop occasionally, only usually taking notice of your presence after reading the card set beside your display, and then only usually if they were alone, no one to distract them. they'd hit the tap, sway idly, cast about for some sort of entertainment while the liquid bubbled around you, a series of temporary vacuums which made your ears thrum. eventually their eyes would land on the placard - fairy fresh honey, for your enjoyment - and they'd look to the dispenser with renewed interest, delighted even further when they caught the double meaning.

from your perch atop a raft of orange slices, you've been charged with keeping yourself entertained all night, a constant source of sweetener to make the punch more heady and saccharine by the hour. it was an easy task from the safety of your container. guests were permitted to look but not touch, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't do anything for you. you liked the attention, liked seeing the repeat customers getting more and more intoxicated as the night went on - with your taste, with the sight of you; it didn't matter much. just more kindling for the heat that burned within you. sometimes, they'd go and fetch their friends to share in their new-found treasure, a ring of guests looking on and cooing at you as you kept yourself teetering on that constant edge, teasing you to tip yourself over and give them what they wanted. their faces were refracted and distorted through your container, voices muffled, but it only added to it all, made them unreal and nonthreatening.

but kyle had said you couldn't, that you were to save yourself for his drink later, his 'nightcap', after everyone went home. he'd come by every now and again to sample the punch, make sure it wasn't overly sweet. he'd wink at you when he found you were behaving for once and reward you by being gentle when he'd have to top off the dispenser, a ladle kept down by surface level to ensure the drink mixture wouldn't splash too much as he poured it in. your little raft would float back to the top easily each time and then kyle would lean close to press a kiss against the sticky crown of your head and you'd start all over, skin abuzz with his touch.

but as the night drags on and little twinkle lights replace the sun, your bubble grows cold and your pleasure grows sparse. you tap on the glass as kyle passes with a tray of finger foods and he frowns at you for a moment before processing the ice still floating around in the punch, the warmth of the day having died off enough that they haven't melted in a timely manner. he nods and holds up his finger. wait. you're still pouting about it when he gets back and he laughs as he scoops you up in a cup, lets you hide low beneath the rim as he walks around saying good night to everyone.

outside of the protection of your container, the guests take on a bit of a beastly quality. you see more fairies, worn like lanterns on the hips of their companions, or decorated in jewels and chained to their throats like necklaces. you've always known you were lucky to have been found by kyle, but you gain a new appreciation for that when you see one poor soul clenched between the teeth of a rather grisly looking man, her face twisted in some bad mixture of pain and pleasure. some of them see you, dare to ask kyle for one last taste. you sink further into the cup each time, eyes burning as you stare up at them through the murkiness of the sugary punch. you wish kyle would put his hand over the cup like a lid but you know he likes showing you off too much and he never does, lets you flounder under each stranger's gaze as he takes too long to deny them.

but eventually everyone does leave, and kyle retreats inside where he places you on the counter in the kitchen and tells you to stay in your cup.

"don't worry, you'll be warm enough soon," he promises, then goes about getting the kettle on. he showers you in praises as he waits for it to warm because he doesn't play fair, tells you how well you did for him and how everyone talked about you. says you looked so cute on your clever little raft. he kisses your forehead again and grins when he sees how it makes your wings flutter.

he doesn't let the kettle come to a boil, stops it just before it can and pours some water on his wrist to make sure it's not too hot. his tea bag goes in before you but you're quick to follow, loosing a deep sigh as you're lowered into the welcome heat. you loosen up as the tea steeps, tacky, sugary residue left over the punch sloughing off in iridescent swirls across the surface as the water slowly darkens to his preferred level. you hadn't realized how sore you were until right then, the balance of having to keep your raft level while actively fidgeting on it all day having left your core a little overworked. kyle lets you steep just as long as the tea itself, cooing at you all the while just to watch you squirm.

but eventually it's enough and you grin when he goes to fish the bag back out, bare finger dipping into the mug alongside you. not even bothering with pretenses, it seems.

"c'mere," he mutters, but it's not the tea bag he goes searching for. you dodge him a few times, more out of playfulness than a genuine desire to deny him. kyle isn't fooled. he grins as he corrals you against the wall of the mug, the base of his forefinger pressed against your chest to keep you place as his finger tip slips lower, wedges itself between your thighs to force you straddle it. already you're leaking, muted gold ink swirling into his favorite nightcap.

"that's it, luv," he jostles his finger gently, encouraging you to ride it. he always takes good care of his fingers for you but in the heat of the tea his skin feels even softer, a pillow to rest your abused cunt on. when you rock forward, you can feel the hard ridge that makes up the inner hinge of his first knuckle. "one last show for the night, hm? just for me, so make it good."

[chosos-mascara]

sired

𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞 𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - levi is just a regular at your coffee shop - until you're bleeding out, with no other option than to see the true beast he is.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - vampire levi x reader, reader is turned, reader is attacked (not by levi), blood, biting, general vampire stuff, make-out, sex, cunnilingus, spit swallowing and swapping

4.5k words, yes i am reusing this photo of him cuz he's pretty

In this life, blood had run through vein to be taken from others.

Of course, there had been the weight of guilt to burden the shoulder of those who'd drank the life from another, though within the rise of an undead plague, they had began to drink it without regard of memories, pain or pleasure. 

Levi had done the latter; decades spent underground to prey on those in the shadows, brain riddled with disgusting memories of the past.  Erwin had drawn him from this hole and with that, a new life had been birthed. Though, even with a clean slate, ghosts had still remained. 

These hauntings of the past had brought Levi to a simple life, one with routine, and control. An example of this would be his morning tea, always taken from the same shop, with his arrival and departure time as precise as each day would allow. Unfortunately, with a difference in this very schedule, Levi had been six hours late to his local coffee shop, seeing a shift change and new faces. 

You hadn't met the man before you - you were sure of that. Though, when staring into the grey eyes on the other side of the counter, there had been something so hauntingly familiar - or was he just undeniably mesmerising?  There had been an unforgiving and all-encompassing pull toward the stranger; one that had felt both warm and frightening.

"Are you listening?" His voice pulled you from the depths of your daydreams, his face stern and brow furrowed. You cleared your throat, glancing down to your idle finger hovering over the till.  "I'm sorry, sir." An apology had left your lips before a shaking breath, though his abrasive tone would cast your words aside.  "As I said, an earl grey -" He cut himself short with the shake of his head. "And, for the love of God, make sure the water is boiling."

His narrow lips relaxed into a down-turned expression, eyes mulling you over once, and then twice. 

"Did you get that, or do I need to go elsewhere?" 

You blink, lips parting before nodding a response. "Y-yeah." Now trembling, your fingers wrap around a white cup, the other hand moving to grasp a maker pen, though stopping short of the cardboard.  "What's the name?"  "Levi." 

Levi had walked toward the collection counter, one arm crossing over the other, his sight set on your clumsy handwriting and uneasy grip.  Earl grey, boiling water.  You repeated the order to yourself as if a mantra, a tea bag plucked from box, the cup placed beneath the boiler spout. You checked the temperature dial before pouring, allowing the scolding liquid to fill his cup to almost brim, a plastic lid and cardboard sleeve placed over top.

Within a few moments, the tea had been placed on worktop, a pale hand moving to take the drink to palm. 

He didn't thank you before leaving, though with his previous demeanour, you hadn't expected him to.

When Levi had returned days later with the same request, your heart began to beat slightly faster, excitement in vein. The bell had chimed, your eyes moving from the tray of cakes under glass to greet your new customer - and there he'd stood.

As he made his way toward you, you allowed yourself to wonder if he'd returned due to an appreciation of your brew... though with the same hollow stare and frown over lip, you began to assume this shop was more for convenience than a means for enjoyment. 

Just as before, Levi stood with arms crossed and expression cold, and when you'd pushed the cup toward him, he simply turned on heel and left. A sigh escapes you as the weight on your chest suddenly alleviates.

"The weather's nice, isn't it?" 

Your attempt at small talk felt miserable, and with his grey eyes withdrawing from yours to land over countertop, you had mentally slapped yourself. This would be another memory to plague your mind, with another sorry attempt at talking to an attractive customer. 

His brow furrows as he looks to be in thought, before he finally speaks. 

"I don't like the heat." 

Your jaw slackens. For the first time in the past few weeks, the stranger had not just spoken instruction under a condescending tone, but had instead given a genuine answer to a question you had asked. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked upward at your shocked expression.

Locking up had gone well despite a few customers arriving on the minute of closing, with yourself rushing to clean machine and table. Money was counted, lights switched off, and key placed into lock before you would begin your journey home. 

Street lights illuminated your path, your shadow cast beside you as each begrudgingly slow step brings you closer to your destination. Tinny earphones supply you with a soundtrack while your mind replays the images of you jumping into bed after a long day, sheets pulled to shoulder as you would close your eyes to rest. 

The last stretch of road before your home drew closer, the concrete growing a little less clean and evened out when approaching your neighbourhood. A path you had ventured many times throughout both day and night, one you were sure you could navigate through a blindfold. You glance over the patches of grass among grey pavement, a few trees standing only slightly taller than yourself. In summer, they would bloom green leaves with wild flowers at their root, though on winter nights like this one, they would only shield the unknown.

A shadow slouches parallel to your path on the other side of the road, one with a presence you wouldn't recognise on first glance, though wouldn't yet alarm you. Seeing another at this time of night wasn't particularly unusual; a busy town on a Thursday evening had some form of nightlife, although when seeing the figure's odd gait, your feet did move slightly faster. 

There was a hint of apprehension with your movements, though you had ultimately decided on keeping your gaze straight and arriving home with haste. It wouldn't be too much farther now, though when glancing over shoulder to see the emptiness of the other side of the road, dread filled you to core. 

A sudden weight is born over your shoulder, a sharp pain in neck. Although you begin to thrash, a pair of arms hold you still, the sting of what felt to be a bite allows warmth to seep from your body, exhaustion dousing you. 

At some point, you are freed enough to allow you to stumble forward, slumping toward pavement. Your hand flies to the wound on your neck, alarm rushing through you upon the realisation you were losing a lot of blood, fingers slipping around the puncture holes to be coated in crimson. 

A numbness begins to spread through your body, a coldness enveloping you. 

You lay back to the pavement, head turning to side as you try your best to press into the injury in attempts to stop the bleeding, though with your vision turning blurry, you weren't sure how effective your weakening grasp would be. Focusing your altered vision, you can make out two figures before you, one looking to be the same hooded shadow you'd seen across the road, the second having a recognisable silhouette, though you couldn't quite put your finger on where you'd seen that coat before, and the black slacks, perfectly tailored to meet ankle -

You had blinked only once, you'd felt sure of that. But, it looked as if minutes had passed before you, the two figures now separated, one left to only a heap on the floor. There was a presence beside you, and with racing heart, you turned to meet their view. 

The stranger looks to be Levi, your crush from the shop, and over the ringing of your ears, it'd sounded a lot like him, too. Just as you'd fallen to unconsciousness, you could've sworn his eyes had changed from grey to red, two canines elongated to look much like the fangs of a vampire.

Heavy lids flutter between that of dream and reality as you stir, harsh pavement feeling much softer than you had remembered. Though as you came to, memory foam supporting your body, you were quick to realise that the warmth engulfing your body had not been that of cement floor, but a bed that hadn't felt much like your own.

With the cloud over your eyes fading, you set your sights on the plain ceiling above, with a slow drift down to the thick sheets draped over your person. Your scent had been the second to last sense to return - the smell of cedarwood and pine. 

Your home had been many things, but none of these attributes had felt at all familiar. Not a spec of dust in sight, nor blemish... The only thing that had been certain was your confusion at the current situation, and paired with the jumbled events of the night prior, you had been left to wonder how you had ended up in such room.

And finally, you are graced with the sensation of pain. 

Your neck throbbed, a tingling feeling to flow into vein, and perhaps the beginnings of a fever. There was a reluctance in your movements as your hand had made way to the wound, a withdrawal from the spot much before you'd come to cup it. Would the skin be mauled and tattered? 

Memories flash before you - thick blood pooling over your neck, the sensation of all life leaving your body. You brace yourself as your fingers finally fly to the injury, though you are left to feel dissatisfied by the bandage covering the skin; a barrier to your true condition. Previous events are farthest from vivid, though in the midst of searching your mind, you find a fragment of certainty - the stranger from the coffee shop. Black hair left to fall over brow, concerned grey eyes turning to resemble that of beast with pointed fangs. 

The wound throbbed as you remembered now, that taste of iron within your own mouth. How had that come to be?

As you sit upright, the room spins. Despite this, you allow a single leg to drop to the floor, followed shortly by the other, your weakened arms pushing from mattress to start your investigation. This home's walls had acted as your crutch as you'd moved to leave the bedroom, soon making it through the door, fingers still grazing plaster as you willingly make your way into the unknown. 

The corridor is been clean, walls plain in colour with a few paintings mounted proudly. They look to be expensive, though you don't marvel, instead moving closer to an explanation. 

"You're up." 

The words jolt you to core, eyes widening in both shock and fear as you turn to look over your shoulder, Levi standing a mere few feet from your own trembling body. One glance over his lips cause your throat to constrict, a shallow gasp pushes from chest as you felt to lose your balance, falling down onto the floor. 

You remember now, the fear you'd felt with a figure's teeth far into your throat, and how it had felt to have your very life drained from your soul.  You saw how Levi had torn your attacker from your being, only to seat himself beside you as you'd felt close to taking your last few breaths - how sporadic they'd been. 

He'd taken his own wrist to his mouth, a redness over lips as he'd pulled the appendage away only to force his mouth to yours, a red ambrosia forced over your tongue to douse your throat in burning liquid. You'd screamed against him, you'd thrashed and cried, though within only moments your eyes had felt heavy, the poison suddenly lulling you into security.

Levi despises the look you give him now, the horror and pain twisted in your face. It had been a look he'd seen few times before, though hadn't had to endure in a long while. He hadn't missed the fear he'd caused others.

"I won't hurt you." His arm raises as he takes a step toward your frightened body, voice timid. His hand reaches yours, ice cold skin wrapping over you to offer aid. Calming yourself, you stand.

"You can leave if you want." Your neck thrums as you stare at him, and if not for his sincere expression, you would have tested this offer. He squeezes gently over your fingers, mouth ajar. He knows you remember what he is, and what he'd done. You need an explanation.

"But... shit." Levi's eyes leave yours as he exhales. "There's something you need to know." You raise a brow, chest tightening. "What is it?" Anxiety courses through you as you retract your hand from his, moving it over your bandaged throat. 

"The thing that bit you," There's a waver in his voice, and a change in tone. "He took a lot of blood, and you were close to dying." You nod apprehensively. "I had to feed you my own, but it's been a while so I didn't realise..." His eyes close. "You would have died, if I didn't-" 

"I'm one of you?" Levi shifts uncomfortably before you, head tipping forward. 

"Not just that - tch." He's unable to find another way to put it, but searches his mind in desperation for an answer. The situation pains him in many ways, yet the worst factor had to be the intimacy. Levi had managed to find his way around alone until now, and with this, everything may change. 

"We - our kind... We can create bonds with others. One that can link two souls as one, or at least, sire two souls together. It means you can feel another person's presence at all times." At last, he raises his gaze from the floor, looking into your eyes. "You're now tethered to me." 

The news sinks in slowly, butterflies within your stomach as you sense the connection he speaks of. There had been some hesitance too, but this had stemmed from the limited understanding of what this label would entail, and what this existence would involve. As you stared at him, you grew used to this sensation - the feeling of his soul. It felt cold and somewhat indistinct, but when you focused your mind to it, it was there. 

"I feel different." The phrase resembled more of a whisper than a clear statement, and Levi had shared this uneasiness within himself, too. It hadn't just been this attachment, but your senses had felt heightened, sounds felt louder and colours felt brighter. As you peered over his face, drifting toward his neck, you could sense where his vein had been most open, where you want so desperately to sink your teeth. 

"I do, too." Levi searches your eyes to find an answer he wasn't sure he'd find, with a step toward you. "I can feel your very being." As he edges closer, his hand outstretched, his fingers brush over your hair, finally skimming over your cheek. 

You stare into him, and for a moment you feel yourself lean forward too, but it's as if reality takes its brittle hold over his heart, and he pulls away.  "You need to eat." The statement weighs on you, and as he strides toward another room, you feel your body ache for his touch. 

You aren't sure whether or not to follow him when he disappears, so you instead await his return, or further instruction. He reemerges not long after, a glass in hand. Only when he's closer do you notice the thickness of the glass, and the distinct red. It had been blood. 

You take a step back, breath in your throat as he pushes the glass toward you. Although you try to fight, he places a hand to the back of your head, rendering you unable to move. The glass rim is forced to your lips, the blood pouring thickly to your tongue, and you have no other choice but to swallow. 

It's bitter, and runs like honey down your throat, thick, and heavy. Despite your mental apprehension, your body reacts, gulping back the fluid with heavy eyes. When it's finished, you feel awfully satisfied. 

"Was it... human?" Although you hadn't wanted to truly know, there was a need to ask. Relief seeped through you when he shook his head, sighing.  "We source animal blood. It gets you through the day, but the hunger isn't satiated for long. You will feel a pull toward humans - you just have to fight the urge." 

"What about other beings like us?" 

Levi stirs, his expression souring. "It wouldn't quench thirst unless they had drank from a human. It's more of a... sexual act than one of hunger." 

The skin of your chest feels hot as you watch his lips form the words, and images of intimacy with Levi plague your mind. You remember the distinctness of the blood he had fed to you fresh from wrist - the twang, and the warmth. 

Moments pass by quickly as you move toward him, body acting much faster than the constraints of your mind. Imagery of his blood pooling over your tongue had flashed before your eyes as your lips met with the thick of his neck, face pulled into the crook and elongated teeth brushing the flesh. 

Levi could have stopped you, your frame much weaker than his, but he'd held back to allow you a taste. He knew the hunger too well, and paired with the guilt he'd felt for turning you, he would allow you to take more than you should.

But, you pull back sooner than he'd anticipated, skin stained crimson with his blood. He couldn't stop himself from connecting himself with you, not when you'd worn his life so beautifully over your lips.

This kiss wasn't much like the last, with your half conscious state and his frantic attempts at saving you, it hadn't felt much of a meaningful moment. Now, here with you, his body connecting with your own and the taste of his own livelihood on your lips, Levi felt freed. Freed of this lonely existence, and free from the sorrow path he'd aligned himself upon. 

His lips were cold, yet soft, slipping between your own to grow closer to you. With the initial movements there had been modesty and restraint, yet as you tasted more of him, passion had ignited. 

Levi presses his tongue to yours, hand snaking to hold the back of your head and tilt you to reach deeper limits. He swiped himself over you, roaming your mouth to try his blood mingling with your taste. 

As Levi found himself losing control against you, he held on tighter and kissed with more force and roughness - fangs clashing over yours when they find their way to scrape your bottom lip. The sensation pulls a timid hum from your chest and Levi groans in response, hardness pressing uncomfortably against his trouser as your own blood trickles into his mouth. 

At some point, you end up against a wall, Levi leaning himself against you with need, unhinged rocks of hip to find friction against your clothed body. Pulling back breathlessly, his hand remains upon your cheek.  "I can't control myself around you." His voice is smooth against your ear, lips grazing the skin of your cheek.  "You don't have to." Your words are quiet but he hears them clearer than day, humming against you. 

He takes a step back to regain composure, and you are left to look to him with doe eyes, a tightness in your chest with burning desire. Silently, Levi takes your hand, leading you back into the room you had awoken in not too long ago, stopping beside the bed. His hand runs from yours to trail over your arm, stopping at your shoulder. 

"At least allow me to take you within a bed - I would have fucked you against that wall if you'd have let me." 

Heat prickles your body at his words, though cool air soon meets warmth as he undresses you, discarding your clothes with his own over the floor before you're on the mattress beneath him. 

Levi found it difficult to restrain himself from marking your skin, instead dragging teeth over neck, or flicking tongue to kiss flesh. Your fingers laced within his hair, gently tugging him back to your lips, kissing him with fervour. Saliva glides from your tongue to his, but he drinks it back as if depraved, intoxicated within your taste. You could feel his frenzied state worsening as he licks and nips over you, a clear need to have you in more ways than one. Blood had been a vampire's hunger, both in ways of food and passion, and you had wanted to play with fire.

"You can..." Your confidence fizzles quickly on tongue as you meet his eye, a new wave of anxiety washing over your body. Red irises stare back at you, though in sensing your unease, they slowly fade back to grey. "You can drink from me." The permission you grant to him is one rooted in edge, your muscles tensing when awaiting his reply. 

A puff of air leaves his nose in what feels to be amusement.  "You don't know what you're offering." There's a seriousness in his voice, led by his own reluctance.  "I know you were thinking about it." A stillness warms the room as the statement leaves you.

He shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss you. This time, the movements are languid, a slow-moving pace to instead take time in roaming the mouth of the other. As fluid had been swapped between each tongue, it grows thicker, and a moan catches within your throat. 

Fingertips had breached the hem of your underwear at a point in time you can't quite pin, but you permit the tugging of fabric to drag past your knee, exposing yourself to the cursed being before you. His gaze drops to the bareness before him, a stripe over folds with his fingers. Levi allows his lips to hover over your flesh before he finally lowers himself between thigh, palms spreading you wider to make room for his face. He delves forward, tongue meeting with hardened bud to swirl circles over you.

His name passes your lips, back arching, and Levi rolls his hips over the comforter for some form of relief. As his tongue flicks over you, you are left to whine beneath his touch, hand entrapping your mouth in an attempt to muffle the mews spewing from you. Fingertips brushed your entrance, ring and middle circling the hole before finally teasing in, and you writhe in his sheets. When you roll yourself over his tongue he groans, fingers curving. 

"Fuck, don't stop." Panting, you beg his mercy, feeling close to falling over the edge. He scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you as he moves them in and out, and with the way his tongue is moving you're unable to restrain from the high you begin to feel. He adds a third, and you scream out in relief, stuttering hips as you come undone beneath him. 

When you come down, he's already on his knees with his cock free, pushing the head against your throbbing clit.  "Ever since I saw you in that shitty shop, I've pictured you beneath me."  His head is rubbing against your slit to gather the juices left, and a shaky breath leaves your lips. Levi places his fingers on your chin to tilt your mouth open, watching your face contort in confusion. 

He spits between your parted lips before closing your lips, edging himself into you while looking within your eye.  "Swallow." The command was impossible to defy, so you do as he requests, watching as his lips quirk into a smirk.

Levi forces his length forward, thickness finally nestled within your walls. He rocks himself gently at first, though soon looses himself within you as your chest rises and falls at rapid pace, body welcoming his every inch. Your gaze drops to his fangs, finger reaching toward them in curiosity, allowing your skin to be pierced by the needle like ends. Blood rushes to the small puncture, only a pinprick, though Levi was quick to respond, his tongue darting from lip to taste the crimson offering.

With one taste, he craved more. After the sire bond, your blood had tasted uniquely different, reflecting more of his own. He's unable to stop himself from biting into your wrist, puncturing vein and wrapping his mouth around the source. He groans deeply, eyes rolling upward as he ruts his hips much harsher than he'd done before, allowing himself to indulge within your taste. 

When he removes himself from your skin, a single droplet rolls from wrist to elbow - but Levi cannot allow the smallest amount of your nectar to waste, his tongue darting along the length to leave not a stain over your arm.

His cock twitches inside you as your head tilts back in pleasure, legs tightening around him. He can feel himself grow closer to release, though has one last offering to you. 

Levi brings his finger to fang, piercing the skin in a similar fashion to your prior display, placing the digit straight to your lip. He smears his blood over your lips, and you too mimic his actions from before, eyes locking with his own as you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking before the pop of your lips releases him.

You pull his face to yours, pushing the mixture of blood and saliva to his mouth. He groans in reply, much deeper than before, thrusts growing messy as he allows your tongue to dance with his. Levi's breaths were sporadic as he came within you, pushing himself as far as he could, squeezing over your flesh as his body ached.

The veil over his eye had began to lift as he laid himself beside you, brain no longer clouded - though he still felt an unusual lull of safety within your presence. He pinned it to the sire bond, soothing him into trusting your soul as it had linked with his own. 

If his heart had still beat, he was sure it would feel differently while in your presence, and for the first time in decades, he allows himself to wonder what life would be like if he was still human. 

"Earlier, when you told me I could leave," The silence was broken with our voice, still hoarse. "I didn't want to." There was a small dip in your words as you fought with your own understanding of the situation. "Why? Why do I feel this way toward you when you're still a stranger?" 

He exhales, staring up at the ceiling. "It's the bond." His words won't offer much insight as he barely understands it himself, though he feels himself needing to comfort you. "I brought you back here to rest, but only when you'd awoken had I realised what had happened." 

"How will this work?" Your words are gentle, but the question hangs stagnant in the air.

"I don't know, this is a first for me."

a/n: for some reason, after a break in writing, staying in present tense felt really hard?? please excuse me if i messed up, i feel like this is so inconsistent

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Storer has been Storing with Syd all along

Please read the previous meta I included and pay attention to the bonus tracks.

What Storer chose to show us What Syd knows about Carmy

The narrative Storer (and Calo) were pushing onto Syd was:

Carmy Berzatto, the chef I used to fangirl read about in all the magazines, a 30-year-old former boy genius, very easy on the eyes, internationally trained by the best, former NOMA, published author, multi-awarded hot shot, fresh outta the most excellent restaurant in the entire USA, most excellent CDC,

who most likely got laid all over the world, is now back in Chicago opening a restaurant and getting laid with this blue-eyed, hot brunette, a white chick he calls "friend".

Which means he's into the whole "FWB" thing because he clearly prefers to play the field rather than be in a committed relationship, seeing as his longest relationship must be the one he has with his personalized custom-made jacket.

The reality we, the audience, know:

For Carmy, Syd is a mystery, for Syd Carmy is this successful chef who couldn't keep it in his pants when he should have been there CALLING TONY!

But WE know that's not entirely true. WE know better:

Bonus track #1: Richie was NOT saying "Interesting" because Carmy was finally getting it on with the C person, but because he picked up on Syd's JEALOUSY. He thought: #Catfight!

Bonus track #2: She's just an interruption, she was never supposed to be a permanent thing.

I already went over that temporary quality of hers from other angles, but it always BEARS repeating because we are constantly being gaslit.

Bonus track #3: She's a FUCKUP. Fak forced and initiated that situation.

Bonus track #4: C was a QUICK FIX kinda situationship because Carmy JUST COULDN'T WAIT for a better time to pursue the woman he really wanted, seeing as he presumably thought she was either completely out of his league or it was just unprofessional to even give it a try because they were gonna be business partners and you shouldn't mix business with pleasure anyway, plus Syd never showed interest in him in any other way than professionally, so why would he risk it? He decided not to wait for a better chance to go after Syd in the future, since he deemed that chance to be a looooog shot that might never happen at all and instead he just TRANSFERRED his feelings onto a more attainable prospect, as I explained above, this was confirmed by 02X05's soundtrack.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[partyanimal167]

How Fitting- Crocodile x F!Reader

I'm so happy to see all the new Crocodile content here after that nice man's birthday, so I wanted to add something for all my fellow Croco simps. I've been meaning to write something, so it all worked out. The prompts for his birthday event were certainly helpful too (fashion, au). Requests are open too if anyone has any ideas.

CW: modern au, fluff, fem reader, no pronouns

In all fairness, you were not expecting to be measuring such a specimen within the first week of your job.

The family trade had been sewing for generations, and you were no exception when the call was at your door. Your slight rebellion got you into men's fashion however since you had fond and not-so fond memories of dresses, fluffy underskirts, and berserk brides. Oddly enough, you found yourself to be one of few women in that sector, but you didn't mind so much. You weren't a big name designer, so blending in was easy enough when necessary.

You worked at a well-known shop that had been a community staple for decades. You paraded around in the backrooms where bolts of fabric of all kinds of patterns and materials were stored. You weren't new to this line of work, but you figured you would do simple alterations since most repeat customers had their favorites amongst the tailors.

As you hemmed a pant leg, you heard the bell ring from the front. Soon after, your name was called by your beloved elder boss. You cheerfully walked towards the front not prepared for towering figure at the counter.

It was comical in a sense. Your boss was small and fragile looking compared to tall, muscular man who didn't seem to fit the quaint ambiance of the shop. However, your boss simply beamed at the man who despite having a serious demeanor held some fondness in his eyes.

"I want you to meet Sir Crocodile. He's a very loyal customer here, a familiar face."

You smiled kindly at the man and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The man's lips tugged in a slight grin as he lifted your hand for a soft peck. "Pleasure's all mine." You were surprised by the gesture, but didn't say anything.

"They're quite spectacular in their work. I hope you don't mind, but I'll have 'em take over for today's suit fitting." the old man went on.

You were caught off guard and held up your hands in defense. "Oh I couldn't possibly. I'm sure the gentleman would prefer your work."

The boss looked at your softly. "Please. My arthritis is acting up." He rubbed his hand for emphasis.

Well you couldn't argue with that.

...

The two of you moved to the back, and you couldn't help but notice the strength of the man's presence.

As you set up your work station, you peeked over.

Crocodile was a man of class. You weren't sure what he did professionally, but the fur-lined coat definitely meant money along with the adornment of rings. You made note of the sleek prosthetic as well that was just as much of a luxurious accessory as well as a functional piece. You could appreciate the sight.

You shook your head slightly before reaching for the roughed suit jacket draft. You glanced over the previously noted measurements and turned again.

Crocodile had taken off a few layers and seemed relaxed. He noted your expression and chuckled. "I'm not new to this."

You blinked before nodding and handing the jacket. "Certainly not."

He put it on and pressed it against himself. You held a couple pins between your lips as your checked the lengths with your tape. You hummed as you worked, but soon felt eyes watching you. You looked up and were met with those captivating golden eyes. "Is something wrong?"

The man grinned and shook his head. "Not at all. It's always satisfying watching a professional at work. "

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment and you turned away to feel the shoulders. "Everything comfortable?"

"Quite."

You two went on through the other elements and noted the addition of a notch for a lapel chain.

"What can I say? I'm a bit old fashion."

You giggled before finishing some adjustments. "I can certainly appreciate that."

"You seem to have a bit of personal style yourself." Crocodile motioned towards your silk tie.

You touched it fondly. "Ah this, it's a memento of my grandfather. He was an excellent suit designer."

"I've seen the design before, but I'm afraid to say I don't have one in my collection."

You stepped off the stool and without thinking much replied, "Well I'll be sure to make you one," then you realized, "of- of course, if you're interested."

Crocodile began to dress in his original clothes. "Certainly. I'd be honored."

You weren't quite sure how to respond, so you hummed as you looked over your notes. "There are only minor adjustments to be made before we finish off. We'll be sure to reach out as soon as your suit is complete."

The man nodded before turning to go. "I look forward to it."

~~~

It was just your luck that you were off the day that Crocodile picked up his suit. The custom tie had been included in the boxes, so there was that at least. You could only hope that you'd see him again. Though, a part of you was nervous that he would find something wrong with suit, but your boss simply stated that it was your newbie jitters.

You were out doing some errands outside the shop when you walked passed a well-known cafe. The smell of savory cigar smoke caught your attention, but you were going to continue walking until you heard your name called.

You turned and saw that well-dressed man approaching you--no suit coat in place and appreciated the fitted vest.

Your heart raced when he again kissed your hand in greeting. "Ah I'm sorry to have missed you when picking up my items."

You waved your hand simply and glanced away. "Oh it's alright. I just hope everything is to your liking."

"Of course, I'm happy to say that many have appreciated the new tie as well. Thank you again." he went on.

You swayed a little and scratched your cheek. "Ah that's wonderful news. I'm sure many would try to get it. Too bad that fabric is very limited in its production."

"I'll treasure any one-of-a-kind piece from you, my dear." that made you lost for words.

"Oh, I'm flattered."

"Only stating the truth." he paused. "How about you join me for lunch?"

You totally wanted to, but looked at your watched. "I'm afraid I have some more tasks to complete."

Crocodile looked a little shock to see someone turn him down but it was quickly replaced with a grin. He reached into his pocket before pulling out his wallet. He handed you a card and looked deep in to your eyes. "Well please reach out when you have a chance. Don't keep me waiting." the eyes kept you locked in and you nodded shyly.

"Of course not."

~~~

I was totally counting on this being a model au and that totally didn't happen. I liked this intimate version though. Crocodile is certainly getting his suits custom and tailored.

Happy birthday to that gruff bossman.

Thanks for reading!

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

fragments from the google docs continues with: Nero's mom has a little chat with everyone's favourite goth kid, and she knows her ex well enough to sniff him out even when he's up to his stupidest hijinks yet.

Adaline has stepped out - she needs a breath of air not tainted by fear and guilt, please God just give her that much - and so she is the first to see them.

Her first impulse is to tell Morrison it can wait. Or, if it can’t wait, to send whatever job it is Lady and Trish’s way. Devil May Cry doesn’t need the money and the thought of leaving Nero -- or Dante leaving her -- is, for the moment, incomprehensible. Even for an evening. Even for an hour. She will fall apart. She will shatter like glass.

Then she sees the figure following -- limping -- a step or two behind Morrison, and holds her tongue. It’s rare that a client makes their own way to Devil May Cry; Morrison likes to act as go-between to keep the jobs coming through him. His pockets would empty fast if there was no need for a middle man.

So she keeps her peace, sipping from her glass of wine held in a hand that is only ever so slightly shaking, until Morrison comes close enough to see her in the dim glow of the neon sign. He tips his hat to her, as is his custom, but Adaline is hard-pressed to fetch up a smile as is hers.

“Always a pleasure, Ada,” he begins conversationally. “I realise this isn’t the best of times, but… well, we have a bit of a doozy by the sounds of it. Might even be connected to what happened here.”

Adaline’s toes curl inside her shoes and her grip on her glass tightens; the chardonnay glitters a kaleidoscope of colours as the neon lights refract through it. She says nothing.

The figure behind Morrison -- a young man, maybe only Nero’s age, dark-haired and covered in tattoos -- keeps his head bowed. In one hand he clutches a cane; no affectation, he’s leaning on it quite heavily. In the other, he holds something else, although Adaline can’t properly see what it is.

“May we…?” Morrison nods towards the door.

“Who are you?” Adaline asks the boy. “Why are you here?”

At first, she thinks he isn’t going to answer, but eventually he finds his tongue. His voice is low and slightly husky. Eventually, he does her the courtesy of looking at her. A pretty boy, with pale green eyes; she recognises the shape and colour from somewhere, though she can’t presently think where.

“My name is V. I am here because I have some information about a powerful demon lord poised to wreak havoc on this world. It is something I thought an equally powerful demon hunter ought to be aware of.”

Again, Morrison makes a movement towards the door. “Probably easiest if we don’t have to repeat the story…?”

The last thing - the absolute last thing - Adaline wants to do is let them across the threshold of Devil May Cry. This boy brings trouble, she can feel it. She wants to run inside, batten down the hatches, and keep what is left of her family safe from whatever trouble is building outside.

But Dante never will; she knows him that well by now. Dante never saw trouble in his life without throwing himself into the middle of it. Deep down, Adaline knows she has (just, barely) too much of a conscience to let the world burn for the sake of her boys. Not for the first time she thinks of how much easier life would be, without caring. Without that little bean counter in the back of her mind, totting up life and death. The rippling, unknowable consequence of so much as an afternoon off at the wrong time.

She downs the last of her wine and nods towards the door. “By all means. God knows, he needs some occupation. Why don’t you boys talk about money first? And we’ll talk about… everything else.”

It’s difficult to tell, at first, who is more disconcerted by the proposal. Morrison, however, is a wonderfully uncomplicated man and the rare opportunity of browbeating Dante into promising away his earnings before he’s even earned them without Adaline there to intervene is a powerful incentive. Nodding again to her, Morrison strides into the building.

And so they are two. For once, Adaline doesn’t care to hear the details of payments and cuts and debts, which is all Morrison will be talking about for now. She’s much more interested in V.

He’s gone back to avoiding her eyes as much as he can, fiddling with his cane and what she can now see is a large, though not particularly thick, hardback book. Something about it catches her attention, but it’s too dark to make out the details.

Moving as discreetly and unhurriedly as she can bear to, Adaline lets one hand drop to her side, and then behind her back; out of sight, she casts a series of cantrips. V himself -- his body; his being -- is untouched, but to Adaline’s eyes only his tattoos glow a faint purple. Perhaps the surprise shows on her face, or else he is magically attuned enough to feel the cantrips probing over him; he raises his head, offers a half-smile tinged with an emotion she can’t quite place.

“I assure you,” he says, “I am no demon, nor am I here to launch an ambush.”

No demon, maybe, but something in V is of the Underworld. Adaline’s consolation is that she knows anything she can pick up with a cantrip, Dante will smell on him.

“Forgive me if I seem discourteous,” she says with only a moderate amount of irony. “Someone tried to kill my son two days ago. It’s put me somewhat on edge”

There: V is good, he schools his expression again as quickly as he can, but Adaline sees the flash of panic; the momentarily widened eyes, the white-knuckled grip on his cane; the look of a man caught out.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he manages, but it’s too little too late.

Still with one hand behind her back, Adaline prepares to conjure more than a cantrip. “Who are you?”

V holds up his hands -- one still clutching his cane, the other held awkwardly to keep the book under his arm from slipping away -- and the attempted calm is replaced by no small amount of fear. Genuine fear, too, as far as she can tell, unless the boy is an excellent actor. While Adaline can’t smell fear rolling off a body like a demon could, she considers herself a decent interpreter of body language.

It calms her, just a little; anything afraid of her is no match for Dante.

“A friend. Or,” he adds, seeing her disbelief, “If not a friend, at least not an enemy.”

“Someone else walked up to this building once and said the same thing. It ended up causing us a lot of pain.”

They say, the two of them, that they wouldn’t be without Trish now -- but if it was between Trish and Vergil? That bean counter again: life and death, death and life. Pray they’re never given the option.

She’s scaring him: the boy with the demon tattoos looks ready to peel off. Adaline shakes her head, reminds herself he’s only Nero’s age -- if there’s a plot at work here, V is the intermediary rather than the mastermind -- though Nero would be furious to know she still thinks of him as a boy, not a man. Even if it’s a ploy, a trick, they need to know who is after them. Of course they first assumed… But it can’t be… Or is she fooling herself? Maybe the wine was a bad idea.

“Fine. I--” Adaline gropes for the words. “We need to know. Especially if it’s really all that bad.”

V relaxes slightly; lowers his hands, looks at her with something like compassion. He’s just a boy, she reminds herself again; look at him, this boy with his tattoos and his postmodern goth aesthetic, with his cane and his book and something demonic carved into his skin, something he might not even know of or understand. Bound up in a world of trouble beyond his capabilities. Even if that trouble is to do with whatever attacked Adaline’s son, V did not break into Devil May Cry and tear Nero’s arm off.

Those eyes, though. There’s something about him; something she can almost touch, almost taste. Something she feels like a bigger idiot every moment for missing.

“Had I the choice, I would not bring trouble to your door,” he says. His voice is low, genuine; Adaline finds she believes him. Or, at least, believes that he believes it.

She sighs. Exhaustion is settling into every muscle after two days of adrenaline-fuelled anxiety. The wine was definitely a mistake.

“We should probably head inside. They ought to be finished squabbling over money by now.”

V glances at the door; what he sees must confirm her suspicion, because he nods. He shoots her a quick smile and bows: it’s over-exaggerated, a dancer’s flourish; head down as far as his waist, arms outstretched, his cane flicking towards the door.

“Ladies first.”

It’s a charming display, but Adaline isn’t in the mood to be charmed. Especially not when charm so often disguises an intent to hurt. Again, that impulse against all good sense to turn the boy away and batten down the hatches with Dante and Nero. Her brain is running through all of the possibilities, even the most outlandish ones.

Okay, Mundus is dead (or as close as they’re going to get to killing him) and his corpse is slowly rotting in agony, but what if some other demon lord got the same idea? Mundus sent an underling to tempt Dante into danger once before, why fix what isn’t broken?

If that’s the case, whoever has taken Mundus’s place has even learned not to rely on painted doll replicas (and what if that’s why V seems so familiar? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something… green).

V looks up with a smile but his face falls when he sees Adaline still looks decidedly unamused.

“Let’s hear what you have to say,” she says, leading the way into Devil May Cry.

Dante looks expectant, almost excited; Morrison looks satisfied. Those two states don’t normally coincide. Adaline wonders how much money is involved here, and where it’s coming from. V doesn’t exactly give the impression he’s swimming in cash. Then again, this is Dante: he gripes about money from time to time but he’d work for free if the pizza place didn’t demand payment. Adaline happily funds him but he has a few shreds of chest-beating masculine pride about paying his own way that surface now and again.

Adaline circles around the desk to set her glass down on it, briefly makes eye contact with Dante, and leans against the wall behind him. She nods to Morrison as he leaves with a few final words about bringing in Lady and Trish and sets herself to watch. Now that she’s taken her own measure of their newest client, she’s interested to see what Dante makes of him.

Not much at first. Dante leans back in his chair, posturing boredom with the merest glimmer of interest.

“So,” he begins without preamble, “What’s your name?”

V stands in the centre of the office, the book open in his hand and his gaze pointed down at its contents.

“‘I have no name; I am but two days old’,” he says. In the ensuing pause, he snaps the book shut and looks up. “Just kidding. You can call me V.”

Adaline isn’t looking anywhere in particular. It is pure chance when her eyes fall on Eva’s photograph. It’s been on the desk as long as the desk has been in Devil May Cry, and Adaline stopped really seeing it years ago. She knows Eva is there, watching them (watching over them?) but familiarity breeds indifference to the contours of her cheeks and the exact curve of her jawline.

Or the colour of her eyes.

V is watching her when she looks up again; he’s quite still, but his grip on his cane is white-knuckled. His eyes are wide. Helpful: it lets her check the colour again.

Adaline remains impassive to the best of her ability. After a moment, during which she sees V’s Adam's apple bob frantically in his throat, he becomes impassive too; he looks away, deliberately turning his attention back to Dante.

For Dante’s part, if he’s noticed the brief, silent struggle, he gives no indication of it. Humming, he lazily sets aside his magazine and stretches.

“Okay, V... Why don't you tell me everything about this job?”

There’s a slight pause before V answers. He gives a little shrug, his lips pursed, as if to… well, Adaline isn’t quite sure, but his nonchalance strikes her as over-acted. In fact, if he is bringing them information about a job big enough that Morrison is nervous about Dante going it alone, isn’t ‘nonchalance’ the last thing in the world V should be feeling?

“A powerful demon is about to resurrect and…” Again, the briefest of pauses, as if the explanation is so obvious that V can barely bring himself to voice it, “We need your help, Dante.”

Dante lets out a bark of laughter. Either he’s giving an Oscar-worthy performance (and people rarely realise it, but Dante is a good actor when he wants to be; the man practically has a degree in misdirection) or he’s not picking up on any of the inconsistencies and questions Ada is. In stark contrast to her own anxiety, Dante is languid and lackadaisical. He pushes himself out of his chair and strolls over to the couch, still chuckling.

“Now that’s a familiar tune,” he quips. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that exact line before?”

V doesn’t look offended by being blown off so easily. He shifts slightly, grip on his cane visibly tightening. Despite her suspicions, Adaline has an impulse to offer him a chair; he looks genuinely in pain. Before she can, however, he walks towards Dante, intent.

“This is… special.”

“Special,” Dante echoes disbelievingly, a hint of amusement colouring his tone. “Okay, what’s so special about this one?”

It’s about this moment that Adaline realises V has almost completely turned his back on her and she can no longer see his face.

“This demon is your… reason. Your reason for fighting.”

Something shifts in Dante’s expression. He doesn’t enjoy being jerked around and doesn’t suffer fools, but he’s enduring V’s dancing with more patience than Adaline would have expected. Is he finally realising, as she has, that there’s more to this than meets the eye? Or did Morrison just flash more money in his face than usual? Adaline can’t think. His reason for fighting? His reason… your reason--

I have no name; I am but two days old. How -- poetic.

Poetry. Murmured half-under his breath; the one indulgence in an otherwise spartan life; the book she had picked out for him, unearthed in a second-hand store--

“This demon got a name?”

“Vergil.”

[galedekkarios]

mx galedekkarios dot tumblr dot com may i please have some gale and/or bloodweave hcs from your big beautiful mind 👉👈 (or honestly just any longform post of bg thoughts at all bc ur tags keep inflicting me w gory stickmen disease and wanting to read more ;;)

oh anon whadda hell.. u flatter me. 🫶 i unplugged my brain real quick and gave it a shake and this is all what fell out (some are mature):

in a modern au, gale's second favorite cuisine (after greek ofc) is east asian! he loves to both eat it and cook it from scratch. chinese, korean, japanese, etc. he's even good at other asian cuisines like thai and vietnamese. he's gotten very familiar with a lot of recipes and actively tries to learn more. when he doesn't feel like cooking that night, he opts for takeout. he's been a loyal customer of a handful of restaurants for so long that they already know his tastes too.

the only reason why gale's students don't try to flirt with him is because he's too much of a "my wife" guy. he's always wearing his ring, always talking about his partner, and has portraits of them in his office and everything. there's just no way you don't know that he's happily taken. you could be talking about the most random thing ever and he'd be like "omg! this reminds me of how my partner blahblahblah—" and everyone else is just like 😐 because he's already told this story five times before. not even tara is safe from this (and she was probably present for whatever story it is this time, too!). [this is assuming his students are older / uni prof]

i think gale would be the type of person to have a very Intense gaze without meaning to. the kind where you can feel it whenever he's looking at you. or when he's gazing at you lovingly, or even just looking you in the eye as you speak, it's almost too much. it's just so earnest, so sincere, so... intent on witnessing you and really paying attention, that it's like. whoa man. whoaaaaaaa now let's fucking chill before i blink and realize i've fallen in love with you alright 😳 (and, of course, this Greatly unsettles astarion in the beginning bc he's someone that can't afford to be seen.)

i know in my heart that mr "mine was a popular hand at the annual blackstaff's ball" + bagged a goddess + with the way i talk you can't be surprised i'm a generous munch + wyll, is it true that ppl think wizards don't fuck? :( bc i assure you we absolutely do!!!!! + mystra had pleasure domes dekarios was a hot girl once and his pussy still does pop severely. he's just in his depression era rn 💔

wyll calls gale elegant, minthara calls him dashing, shadowheart says he smells like a wealthy dowager, lae'zel assumes correctly that he had many tutors in his youth, and gale frequenting the temple of beauty in waterdeep all make me feel like gale x astarion are very the lady and the tramp coded. after they get married, they're old money x new money.

gale is always eager to teach astarion new spells, but astarion only gets excited about the ones that either help him be a better scoundrel and/or that spice up their sex life. which like. is still a win for them both either way

um. throat goat. that's it that's the headcanon sorry except it's also not really a hc bc he alludes to this but it's important to me tht we repeat it. but also maybe it shocks astarion the first time he's on the receiving end of it like boy WHAT!!!! you didn't tell me you was a freak like that!!! literally that damn shawty ok meme. gale gives him such wet sloppy glizzy gluck that it makes astarion feel like he has to wipe his ass afterward smh

neither of them want to get anywhere near bugs, but in any au gale would be the type to take it outside and astarion would just kill it using one of gale's 39304308309 books laying around

gale struggles to catch sarcasm and astarion loves to rile him up and take the piss out of him for it. lovingly ofc. whenever gale does understand astarion's sarcastic comments, he feels very proud of himself.

astarion sometimes drops things on purpose just to watch gale bend over. sorry (i'm the one that's sorry, not him btw)

[waterbottlegrey-blog]

You'll have to sleep with one of them eventually. The thought repeats in your mind. Eventually, you'll have to sleep with one of them before your enemies catch on - you're nearly sure that the last Cartel plant was accompanied by her twin brother in order to test a theory, and while you salute the equality, it really-

"Boss." Your numbers man nods at you politely. The Yakuza plant, Xenia, slinks in after him, giggling at you. You feel nearly sorry for her - her family in Siberia is living off of her 'modeling' in Japan. But she poisoned Rita last week, so eh, fuck her. She's gorgeous to look at, a true piece of art, but Rita could sing. And she's pushy.

She runs a hand down your arm. You remind yourself to not shake her off. You smile. Her perfume is something dark and heavy. Pleasant.

"Dinner and a show? My new club is looking for customers." Posing as a club owner looking for a reliable supply for her clientele, classic. The Albanians at least had the decency to send a useful plant - the four perfect assassinations Janet pulled off before trying to assassinate your best fixer were almost worth the groping.

"Dinner and a show, after my accountant here checks your revenue."

You take sadistic pleasure in the way she freezes. She pouts at you. If you could frame a picture of her just like that... then she crosses her arms and you look at the movement with practiced reflex. The way her tits are squishing is ruining the aesthetic now.

"That's boring, I've got someone for that-"

"Send them in, then. We'll meet at the club."

She flounces off, after a few more poses with her legs and several stretches.

"You're a cold one, boss," says Left Ear, at the door. "A woman like that-"

"He's drowning in them, Left," Says Right Ear, whose name you've also forgotten at this point. "New honey every week, eh? And they're fightin' for him, remember how that Lorella girl shot the black chick, what was her name? Passionate, those Italians. Chicks never fought over me. Must be good to be king, hey?"

You sigh. They're good guys really. But it's so awkward.

Your accountant gives you a flat look, before his eyes skitter away.

"You know this is costing us more than if you just got married, right?" He says to his papers. What is it about numbers-people? Shuffling papers all day and staring at numbers for hours must do something to the brain. Most of your accountants, money-shufflers, and the like, noticed that you never wanted to sleep with the women. Or men.

"Don't know what you mean."

"Your... women. You shower them with gifts, and they inevitably end up betraying you."

You shower them with gifts to distract them. Throw something shiny one way and your body the other-

Your secretary muscles past Left and Right, heels clicking, a bit flushed. Dyke, but that's why she's so loyal. And she's gotten Xenia to change employers, to your great benefit.

You meet her eyes, and she manages to meet them for a good bit, before looking at her papers demurely. They never looked you in the eye for long, either, shy sort of people, these paper-pushing folks.

"Okay, you two, get out. We'll be crunching numbers. Tell Olga I'll swing around about nine, let the others know. Drinks on me!"

"Awooo, boss, celebrating finally scoring with that sweet dame-" Left elbows his brother out, smiling apologetically at Priscilla. Your secretary just sighs.

"Alice excused herself, Steve is bringing her report. Ben called to say he'll be two minutes late."

Punctual, your numbers-people. It's quite amazing what kind of talent you attract when it's known you don't mind eccentric types. Or loonies.

You let Max straighten up the pens on your desk. Then the picture frames-

"An Italian lady by the name Malena asked to talk to you about a loan," he says, nudging the couch an inch to the right. "Apparently her husband died suddenly. Priscilla told me it should go through?"

"Have her come to the club," you reply, relief washing over you.

Thank god, a new one. Italians always sent blood-thirsty dames. She'd arrange for an accident. Or expose poor Olga, oh no.

"James? Don't comment on my love life when other people are around," You say. He nods seriously. You smile.

Alice and Luey are on time, and Ben is two minutes late. You secretly check Steve for mascara- he forgot to wash it off once, it needed some fast talking. You're pretty sure most of your enforcers saw through it, but eh, fuck em'.

You're not a good guy. They won't raise a fuss, or they'll learn just how much of a bad guy you are. And Steve would sell his own mother for you now - did sell out his rat of a step-brother, but the guy was in the American Nazi League, so. Made sense. Gotta have some standards around here.

"She'll get into a conflict with Olga," says James half-way through the weapons expenses.

You look at Priscilla, the resident loonies expert.

"The Italian woman? Yes." She says and makes a cutting motion.

"That is the point. I will explain later," says Max. "Resuming. Profits were 49,7 percent, rounded down, then we spent further 2 324,50 on bribes, as follows,-"

James blinks and keeps quiet. Then seems to think hard for the next few minutes. You're not worried. He's read the reports in the first ten minutes, probably knows it by heart by now.

You smile as you move on to moonshine runners expenses and profits.

You'll have to sleep with one of them eventually. But not this one. Hopefully not the next one, either.

"I will just make a standard allotment on monthly budgets for your wooing, shall I?" says James.

You nod at him, and light up a cigar. Priscilla laughs.

"You're learning, kid."

You are an asexual kingpin, and dealing with all the femme fatales sent to spy on you by your enemies is getting really uncomfortable.

[blog-eatos12]

Kitchen Chaos Conquered: How Kitchen Display Systems Boost Restaurant Sales

Imagine this: You have just ordered a dish you were thinking about for a long time at your favorite restaurant. The waiter takes your order and then disappears into the kitchen and then…chaos. A storm of activities erupts behind the scene. Ingredients get misplaced, kitchen staff mess up while trying to decode the scribbled orders written on paper, and orders get lost due to the shuffle. The result? You have to wait quite long for your dish and it might not even meet your expectations in terms of taste and preferences. 

Unfortunately, this scene we just talked about is quite common in restaurants that depend on the traditional methods of taking orders on paper. But don't you worry, fellow foodies! There is a not-so-secret weapon lurking in the kitchens of the top restaurants, the Kitchen Display System. 

This amazing technology is the same as a digital conductor, working behind the scenes to ensure that customers get meals fresh, hot, and exactly the way they ordered. Still, wondering how this system exactly translates to an efficient and smooth dining experience for you and increases sales of your favorite restaurants? Keep reading to delve into the magic of KDS in the kitchen. 

From Paper Trail to Digital Stream: How KDS Streamlines Operations

Recall those frantic orders that were scrawled earlier. A KDS completely gets rid of that mess. The point-of-sale system electronically transmits orders to a dedicated screen in the kitchen. This digital display, frequently positioned above the cooking stations, shows each order in clear detail, along with any modifications or additional instructions. It's over trying to read handwriting and speculating what the waiter meant when he said, "Extra cheese on the side."

The way the kitchen operates is significantly impacted by this seemingly small adjustment. This is how it helps the restaurants to create a stress-free ordering and payment system.

Faster Service

Cooks can get to work immediately on preparing your meal because orders are transferred smoothly from the front to the back of the house. Eliminate the need to wait for the waiter to repeat your order or for someone to identify which ticket matches your table.

Improved Accuracy

Bid farewell to the aggravation of having a dish arrive that contains an item you did not order or is missing a key ingredient you asked for. A KDS makes sure that the kitchen staff can see every detail of your order.

Beyond Speed and Accuracy: The Power of KDS for a Better Dining Experience

It takes more than just speed to finish your meal with a KDS. It also sets the stage for a more pleasurable eating encounter in several ways:

Shorter Wait Times

Less time spent waiting for your meal is equivalent to faster order processing. This translates to more time for unwinding, chit-chatting with fellow diners, or just taking in the atmosphere of the restaurant.

Improved Communication 

Even two-way communication between the front and rear of the house is possible with certain KDS systems. This implies that the waiter can promptly inform you if there is a problem with your order, which the kitchen staff can easily report. Eliminate the feeling of being in the dark and wondering where your food is.

Increased Efficiency

A KDS frees up staff time by managing kitchen operations more efficiently. This makes it possible for servers to spend more time interacting with patrons, guaranteeing that you will always receive polite and attentive service.

From Happy Kitchens to Happy Customers: The Business Case for KDS

Let's now discuss the bottom line. Why are KDS technologies being used by restaurants more often? This is how a KDS results in a business victory:

Enhanced Revenue

More tables turned due to faster service means more customers are served, which eventually translates into higher sales.

Lower Expenses

Error and remake waste can be reduced with the aid of a KDS. Furthermore, it can facilitate improved workload management, which can aid in staffing level optimization.

Improved Customer Satisfaction

Happy customers tend to be devoted ones. By offering a more accurate and efficient dining experience, KDS assists restaurants in attracting and retaining a loyal customer base.

In the end, a KDS benefits all parties concerned. Faster service, better accuracy, and an all-around better experience are enjoyed by customers, while restaurants gain from increased profitability and efficiency.

Conclusion

Is your kitchen a cacophony of confusion or a symphony of clatter? Mistakes in orders and long wait times can leave both the customers and staff frustrated. 

The missing ingredient to success is the Kitchen Display System. Boost efficiency, maximize profits, and keep your customers happy with our systems. Connect with us today and streamline your kitchen using the best KDS systems. 

[contentconsumer]

that regulars friend

a/n: okay, so it’s a little long and not much happens, but i love this fic and was hoping to maybe make it a little series? If that’s something y’all would want? Let me know! word count: 2,256 (sorry) requested?: no! My requests are open though! Send em in pairing: druig X f!reader /barisita!reader summary: makkari was one of your favourite regulars at the coffee shop you worked at but her new handsome friend may take that spot especially when he offers to walk you home.

Your hands burnt slightly from the warm glasses they were holding, but you didn’t mind as it was cold outside anyway so it was bringing a sense of pleasure to your freezing knuckles. You continued to stack the clean glasses in your hands because no matter how often your co-workers tell you to use a tray, you were determined to carry the mugs stacked up to your chin with some of the handles clinging to your fingers. Walking back behind the bar you started to put the clean mugs away, carefully dodging your co-worker, Sam, who was trying to make a customer their cappuccino. “Steady,” Sam warns, “You know you should use a tray to carry them.” You giggle and roll your eyes, “m’aware Sam, thanks for the input though.” After finishing placing the cups into their places you turn to face Sam, getting ready to start an idle chat to pass the time. The coffee shop you worked at was relatively quiet which contrasted the busy highstreet outside but it’s why you loved it, the calm atmosphere makes it easy to people watch and lose yourself in a daydream. “If it isn’t my favourite regular” Sam calls making you turn around to face the door, there stood Makkari, she was a regular, someone who came in everyday and ordered the same oat milk latte, Makari was deaf you learnt through Sam, who knew some sign language meaning she mainly communicated with her but you never missed out on an opportunity to speak to your beloved customer as she was extremely talented at reading lips and due to this, you had picked up some basic signs such as “Hi Makkari! How are you?” which you signed to her now. Makari signed back to you telling you she was fine and asking how you were, “Well you know, same as always!” You reply with a faint smile. Sam and Makari got into a steady flow of conversation and you took this time to notice the figure next to her. A man. A very attractive brooding man. 

The breath felt like it was knocked out of your lungs when you made eye contact with the stranger, you didn’t hold his gaze for long though as you blushed and looked away. “The usual and an Americano, black.” Sam hums before coming over to you on the coffee machine to give you a hand with coffee shots. “Who’s that?” You mumble to Sam, “her boyfriend?” This was the only conclusion you could come to, “No,” Sam chuckles, “she said he is one of her best friends, said they’re almost family.” You hum and tray up, placing the drinks in front of the pair, offering Makari and her ‘friend’ a friendly smile, “Enjoy” you chirp, wiping your stained hands nervously on your apron. “You think he’s cute” Sam teases after they walk away, “I do not!” You go to protest, but cracking immediately when you look at Sam, who was standing with her hands on her hips cracking a sly smirk at you, “Okay, maybe a little bit!”

Druig places the tray down on a table Makkari had picked out, he reclines into the chair and shrugs off his leather jacket, absentmindedly his eyes flicker back to the bar where you’re standing serving another customer and repeating the order to your coworker. He reaches for the warm mug of coffee, bringing it up to his lips he makes eye contact with his friend sitting opposite him, who’s flashing a teasing smile and raised eyebrows. “What?” Druig furrows his own eyebrows staring back at Makkari, who sighs before signing to him, “You should speak to her.” “What are you going on about?” “You’re clearly interested in her, why don’t you say something?” “What? I’m not interested in anyone, or anything for that matter” Druig huffs, “I come here everyday, she’s here most days, maybe you wanted to start coming with me more often?” “Makkari, I’m not interested in the girl.” he shakes his head trying to brush off her accusations but also trying to shake the feelings of nervousness in his stomach when he looks at you again, he thinks the humans called them ‘butterflies’. How ridiculous. 

Sam and Makkari noticed it first. Way before Druig and yourself could admit it. You liked each other, like an embarrassing high school crush liked each other. Makkari was reluctant to ever say anything to Druig due to his defensive side, yet she couldn’t help but notice how he began to join her almost daily on her coffee run, whether they grabbed it to go or sat in for a couple of hours, Druig came along. Sam noticed how a light dusting of blazing red covered your cheeks everytime you noticed the mysterious man, especially when he would shoot you a quick lopsided smile. 

One day Makkari flounced into the store, the small brass bell atop of the door ringing loudly, behind her Druig followed in tow, hands stuffed into that leather jacket he always seemed to be wearing. It’s only four in the evening but it’s winter and you’re in England, meaning it was beginning to get dark. You waved at the pair, not expecting a response from the taller counterpart and you must admit you were shocked when he pulled a hand out of his jacket to give you a small wave. A bright smile found it’s way on to your face and it stayed there as you walked out back, afterall your shift had finished for today. You hung your apron up and pulled your jacket and coat over you, shivering slightly and cursing Sam for refusing to put the heating on. You grab your keys and current book you were reading on your break before whizzing back to the bar saying bye to Sam, “Catch you later!” You call, “See ya Y/N, enjoy your day off” She throws back. Tomorrow was your first day off after you had been working 10 days non stop. You didn’t mind and loved your job but sometimes you needed a day to rest, recuperate and catch up on some household things like the ever growing pile of dirty washing in your bathroom. 

You smile at your two favourite regulars as you leave, Makkari waving and you even get a head nod of acknowledgement from Druig. You didn’t notice how his eyes followed your figure as you left, but Makkari did and she couldn’t take much more of this pining. With a scrape of her chair she walked up to Sam at the bar, signing “I’ll be back in a second” To Druig’s curious expression. With determination she waltzed up to Sam, “Everything okay?” The barista signed when she noticed Makkari’s appearance. “They need our help.” Sam didn’t even need to ask who, she was already agreeing. 

It began the next week, you were back working pretty much everyday, you let a tired yawn pass your lips from behind the counter, you were working a 12 hour shift today as one of your other co-workers phoned in sick and you didn’t have the heart to ask Sam to come in on her day off. It had been very busy at times but you were determined to get through the remaining three hours to end up home wrapped in a blanket watching some form of shit tv. “Tired?” You hear a thick accent question, you raise your head up to meet the gaze of what you can only imagine is a new customer, but are shocked when you see Druig, who, you had just realised, had never spoken before. A blush creeps up your neck as you process his accent, it was all very attractive and you cursed yourself for putting the heating on because was it always this warm? “A little yeah” You reply honestly, logging into the till to put his order in, “How come you’re not accompanied by Makkari?” “Oh she’s not feeling very well” “There must be something in the air, the person that was meant to close today but he phoned in sick too” “Does that mean you’ve been here all day?” Druig has a concerned look on his face, you laugh as it’s a regular occurrence when your whole cafe is nearon ran by teenagers, “Yeah 6:30 this morning until 6:30 this night.” “I thought you closed at 6?” “We do but I need an extra half hour to close up and lock the door etc” You get started on his drinks and eagerly continue the conversation, desperate to his his accent, “It’s just annoying I walked to work instead of drove as I thought I was finishing early” To be truthful you were dreading the walk home in the freezing winter air, not to mention you also happened to forget your coat this morning. “Won’t it be dark?” Druig questions concerned about you walking the streets at night, “Yeah probably but it’s just one of those things - all ready” You sigh and place the two takeaway cups on the counter. “I can walk you.” The offer seems to surprise both of you, like Druig couldn’t control what he was saying, “Um okay, as long as you’re fine with it?” “Of course” A large grin stretches over his features, “See you at 6” “6:30” You try to correct him but he’s already gone.

And sure enough, he was there at 6, he even helped you clear some tables before walking home with you. The walk was comfortable and you both got along well, interested to learn more about the other as well as laughing at each others dumb jokes or stories. Once you got to your flat you were tempted to ask him if he wanted to come inside for a bit but held your tongue - what if he wasn’t interested in that way? He could have just been being polite, you brushed it off and bid him farewell, of course after exchanging numbers on the promise he would let you know when he got home and you would tell him if you ended up in this situation again. 

‘Back home. Xx’ You had been staring at the text on your screen for 10 minutes, what do you reply? Did he mean the kisses? You even sent a screenshot to Sam to ask her what you should reply but she was no help due to her insisting you send some form of cringy pick up line. ‘Good to hear, see you tomorrow? Xx’ You typed out slowly before hitting send and throwing your phone away, it was stupid how this grown man made you feel so immature, unsure on your emotions - the thought of seeing him more often and speaking to him personally made you feel slightly giddy. Your phone buzzed - ‘Of course you will. Xx’

A couple weeks passed and yourself and Druig only grew closer, you began texting regularly and he found himself speaking more when he visited you at work, your relationship bloomed into one full of flirty banter which you both loved, but both Makkari and Sam hated, both trying to force their friends to make a move. But both of you were too scared of rejection, Druig didn’t make friends often so he didn’t want to ruin what you had created and you were mortified at the thought of him rejecting you and then having to make his coffee everyday. 

That was until you finally got the balls to man up and ask him if he wanted to come inside after he walked you home which conveniently began to happen more often as Sam began telling you she had to run off to various appointments/was very busy after work so couldn’t even offer you a lift back and Druig began coming in without Makkari telling you she would go on walks and simply text him to pick up a coffee for her return. This evening you two had been discussing the Hunger Games trilogy and Druig shyly told you he had never seen it to which you replied “No way! You've gotta come inside to watch the first movie!” Trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating you looked through your lashes at Druig who was smiling down at you, “Okay” he grins. 

And that's how you ended up wrapped in a blanket, slightly too close for two friends but neither of you daring to cross the invisible border of actually acknowledging the possibility of being more. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but nothing quite prepared you to wake up to your alarm still in your clothes from the day before, with Druig’s arm wrapped around your waist firmly. He mumbled something inaudible as you turned the alarm off - you forgot to turn it off yesterday and now you were awake at 5AM on your day off yet the most obscure part was Druig still being here? Maybe it was because you were too tired to think about the consequences of your actions or because you really wanted to kiss him but your body gravitated back towards the warmth of his arms and you snuggled back into his chest, placing a chaste kiss to his neck. You considered the fact that perhaps he had fallen back asleep but these thoughts were diminished immediately when you felt him press a kiss on your forehead and mutter “Go back to sleep.” You heard his breaths quickly become laboured and soon enough you felt yourself slip back into a peaceful slumber.

... part 2?

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Get Your Spirits Up (Platonic Jotaro & Kakyoin x Reader)

Desolate. Your now eternal resting place was desolate, leaving you to live in isolation forever. Sure, the occasional tourist would come through, but nobody could see you, and if they could, you doubt they would be friendly. How did it come to this? Why did you decide to turn against him?

The door to the hotel room creaked open. You assumed it was one of the janitors getting the room ready for arriving customers. You hoped it was the one with a mole on her nose. She always played good music when cleaning up. You went and sat down in one of the chairs, staying comfortable but out of the way.

However, when the door opened up, you were met with two young men who certainly weren’t the janitors. They must have been walk-ins. The smaller man seemed a little recognizable, although you were sure you’d remember someone with cherry red hair. The bigger man, though, you knew by name. Jotaro Kujo.

You sighed, getting up from the chair to go lay on the couch, but then Jotaro said something.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, turning back to look at him and the other boy. Sure enough, they were both looking right at you. A chill went down your entire body, and you tried giving your best lighthearted laugh.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said. You tried moving towards them, but in the blink of an eye, Jotaro’s Stand manifested and sent its fists straight into your stomach. You flew back into the glass door, but it didn’t even crack.

“Don’t try anything funny,” Jotaro said. He walked up to you as you were struggling to get back up, placing his foot down on your back. Well, he tried to. His foot phased right through your body. He staggered backwards before yelling “Kakyoin!”, signaling to the boy next to him to summon his own Stand. Before you could stand back up, green tendrils wrapped tightly around your body, immobilizing you.

“Now, then, whose Stand are you?” Jotaro asked, this time summoning his Stand to step on your back.

“I’m not a Stand, okay?” you shouted. “I’m a ghost!”

“A ghost, huh?” Jotaro didn’t look at all relieved to hear that. “So what vengeance do you have with us?”

“Stop acting like I’m a vengeful spirit!” you continued. “I haven’t even attacked you yet. The only vengeance I have is with a man named Dio.”

This time, Jotaro’s expression softened a slight bit, and he took his Stand’s foot off of you. “Dio?”

“Yes, Dio,” you repeated. “A few months ago, he put a flesh bud in me, and ordered me to kill you, Jotaro. But when I got here, waiting for you to arrive, I realized what he did to me. I was so angry, I tried taking the bud out right then and there, but… it killed me. My last breaths were spent cursing the name of Dio, and I suppose I was so enraged that my soul refused to die until he was gone.”

“So, you were a part of Dio’s army, too?” Kakyoin asked. He let go of you, allowing you to stand up. “I thought I recognized you. I also had a flesh bud put in me, but I was lucky enough that Jotaro’s Star Platinum pulled it out of me after he defeated me in battle.”

Your heart dropped. “So… if I had just let the flesh bud control me, I could be free by now?” You could feel tears starting to break, and your voice cracked. “Jotaro would’ve saved me? All I had to do was lose to him and he would’ve pulled my flesh bud out?” Before you could control yourself, you broke down in tears, sliding down the wall to sit down again. “I died for nothing! I’ve been trapped in this hotel room when I could’ve been alive and free!”

Jotaro looked over to Kakyoin, stepping aside.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Kakyoin bent down and summoned Hierophant to place a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. You must’ve been strong to resist the flesh bud by yourself, though.”

You continued to cry for a little while longer, but you soon calmed yourself down. With a few more sniffles, you finally were able to form words again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like that in front of you. It’s just… I miss my friends and family, and I can’t even see them because I’m stuck here.”

“Do you think you could escape if you came with us to fight Dio?” Jotaro asked.

You looked up at him.

“You said you’re trapped here because you want revenge on him,” Jotaro continued. “It seems like you’d be able to escape if you left for the sole purpose of defeating him.”

You stood up again, wiping your eyes. “Let’s try it.”

Jotaro nodded. “I’ll go ask the old man if we can switch hotels. Do you want to try to come with me?”

You nodded. Jotaro opened up the door, and walked into the hallway. You followed suit, but stopped right before you were going to exit.

“Something the matter?” Kakyoin asked you.

“Not really,” you said. “It’s just… it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen the outside world. I’ve gotten my hopes up, and I don’t want them to be let down.”

“There’s no way to know for sure until you try, though.”

You took a deep breath, then took a step forward, half-expecting to run into an invisible wall.

But you didn’t.

Miraculously, your foot successfully landed on the other side of the doorway, on the hall’s carpet. You took the other foot that was still in the door and dragged it out with you. A smile appeared on your face as you laughed. “I did it!” you said. “I actually did it!”

“You did it!” Kakyoin exclaimed. Jotaro looked over with a smile.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble so early, but that was just a test.” Jotaro shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really think we need to switch hotels. But now that we know you can escape if you’re set on helping us defeat Dio, you can come along with us when we leave by train tomorrow.”

“So, what do you say?” Kakyoin asked you. “Care to join us?”

You looked over at Kakyoin, then at Jotaro, then back to Kakyoin, nodding your head. “I’d love to.”

[genshinboys]

Thigh job with Genshin boys - Zhongli

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Zhongli

Knock-Knock-Knock

You are standing in front of the door to Zhongli’s office at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. Upon knocking, you open the door and peek inside only to see the Archon seated at his desk and hunching over some documents. His form relaxes the moment his eyes cast upon your persona.

„Can I come in?” you ask politely knowing very well that Zhongli would never be capable of saying no to you.

He puts aside the pen that was previously tightly squeezed in the palm of his hands. Eyes glistening and his facial expression a tell-tale sign of excitement which he promptly attempts to hide going back to the customary for him calm facade.

Immovable as a rock and yet his world was shaken the moment you waltzed into it.

Zhongli doesn’t mind though and he revels in the way you made everything the Archon thought he knew to go to rack and ruin.

So, he finds himself inviting you and wreaking more havoc in his hitherto impassive and emotionless millenniums of existence.

„Oh, by all means, please do,” he responds courtly. He straightens up in his armchair gesturing to his lap.

You smile knowingly.

Zhongli but adores having you in his lap. The way your soft body fits in there is glorious and the lord of Geo could narrate hundreds of stories about the marvel of you being sat on his thigh tightly pressed into his sturdy physique.

It is his way of unwinding after a long day or taking a break from work. He would find solace and relaxation with you next to him. It becomes habitual and it just occurs naturally. When he sips his tea, scans through documents, reads a book or wants to tell you some of the stories from his past. You sit on his lap and everything falls into place.

He loves the control this setting gives him and the fact that he can easily do whatever he deems fit when your body is conveniently at his disposal.

And you wouldn’t say no. Whatever his intentions are.

So you come over to the handsome god and with a loud scoff unceremoniously land on his lap while wrapping your arms around his neck.

„What’s the matter my dearest?” he furrows his brows but the little crooked smile doesn’t escape your notice. Zhongli can’t help himself, he thinks that you’re just too adorable and pure for this world.

„Oh, Zhongli!” you cry out, „That little bastard Venti stood m-,”

He clears his throat and gives you a reprimanding glare, „Language my little girl.”

You roll your eyes at his antics and wiggle your butt successfully shifting your position so that your whole weight is now on Zhongli’s right thigh and your legs are hanging in the air on the other side of the armchair. He wraps a protective arm around your middle while his free hand starts caressing your uncovered leg, so nicely exposed by the skirt of your choice.

So once you feel all snug and comfortable you continue dramatically, „Zhongli, but he really stood me up! I needed his help with one commission and I found him as drunk as a skunk. He was so sloshed he fell asleep in the tavern and Kaeya had to escort him home!”

„Is that so?” he cocks an eyebrow but he isn’t surprised at all.

„Yes! I wasted so much time because of this motherf-,”

Zhongli shoots you another look of disapproval and you just smile apologetically.

„He’s never been good at holding his liquor, my Dear,” he states the obvious more preoccupied with the way the plump flesh of your thighs reddens when he squeezes it with his leather-clad hand. He allows himself to roam a bit higher and the skirt does little to prevent his movement.

„Dear,” he says as his lips approach your earlobe, „Have you by any chance forgotten to put on underwear yet again?”

You really love Zhongli’s voice. His low rumbles, deep and husky sounds from the back of his throat always give you goosebumps.

And so this time, you shudder in his embrace like a leaf in the wind.

„No, of course I didn’t,” you respond in your defence.

„Mind if I see?” he asks and pushes your skirt out of the way revealing your naked bum.

He clicks his tongue, feeling you up with his long fingers. The gloves he is wearing create nice friction as he strokes your skin.

„I might have forgotten after all,” you admit even if reluctantly.

Zhongli is a patient man. Throughout the centuries he has learned to remain cool and composed despite the most arduous and trying of times. He would have never guessed that this quality of his would so often come in handy when graced with your presence.

„Pray-tell my Dearest, so you did come here, parading around the streets of my city with no decency in your soul left, only to sit in my lap with your bare bottom?”

This question sounded more like an accusation and was rather rhetorical.

You shrug your shoulders for lack of any better excuse.

The archon takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into the meat of your ass.

„You enjoyed yourself last time, no?” you make a point to remind the lord of Geo of your last visit to his office.

„So vulgar,” he criticizes gazing down and marvelling how your smooth skin contrasts with the material of his black slacks. You would often stain them with your juices when the Archon opts for something more than just telling you stories with you in his lap.

„I trust you know what to do, Love,” he adds once again locking his eyes with yours and then kisses your forehead fondly.

You chuckle having no intentions to make the god wait any longer.

You let your hands slide down to his crotch and unbuckle the belt helping Zhongli get his erection out of the tight black slacks. At times like this, you would internally curse the Archon for his strict dress code but it can’t be helped. Zhongli is as stubborn as a mule when it comes to certain customs.

His cock springs free and you bite your lip openly admiring the ex-Archon. It never ceases to thrill you. His shaft is thick and painfully long with popping veins and a swollen tip. He is just so enormously big it intimidates you. You briefly wonder if it has anything to do with him being a half-dragon and you shudder at the thought mentally taking a note to ask him about that next time he places you in his lap.

Zhongli’s heartbeat quickens when you teasingly stroke his impressive girth, your lips finding his and you crash them together hungrily.

He hums in delight when you slide your thumb over the tip of his penis. You break the kiss and flash a cute grin at your immortal lover.

„I want to please you with my thighs,” you inform him matter-of-factly at which he nods somehow too quickly to match his typical indifferent attitude.

„You spoil me, my little one,” he praises in an erotic timbre and his eyes widen when you lift yourself from his lap and turn around.

„Hold my waist, will you?” you ask for some assistance placing your hands on both sides of the chair.

„Certainly, so,” he obliges.

So with some help on his side, you elevate your bum and reach for his hardened cock to delicately insert it between your warm-to-the-touch thighs. Experimentally, you lift yourself up and then push down letting his erection slide between your legs in a smooth motion. You make sure to smudge the leaking pre-cum all over his shaft so that the Archon doesn’t feel any discomfort.

„How does that feel Zhongli?” you ask glancing behind your back only to see his already fucked-out stare which makes your chest swell in adoration.

His lips are parted and eyes half-closed as he holds onto your waist the way you asked him to.

„Absolutely marvellous, my Dear. Please, do continue, hmm?” he encourages albeit struggles to reply.

You carry on stroking him like that, sometimes pressing your thighs a little tighter and he groans as quiet as he possibly can. Zhongli would despise being caught by Hu-Tao when you rub his cock so expertly.

The pace you decide to torture Zhongli with is sickeningly slow and he’s had enough of playing around for today.

You let out a muffled cried when the Archon grabs you even tighter and forces you down on his dick. He repeats the motion in an animalistic tempo taking pride in the way your ass bounces up and down in front of his eyes.

„Zhongli!” you plead as you feel your legs going numb.

„Bear with me a little longer, Love” he coos.

Your whole body hurts and your arms feel as if they were going to give out any moment.

Fortunately, Zhongli isn’t going to last much longer as the pleasure mixed with pain make him approach the brink he so much desires. With one final thrust and a guttural moan he releases and you can feel his hot load on the inner side of your thighs. Some drops of cum land on your lower belly and face. It’s so messy and you feel how your walls contract around nothing in feverish excitement.

He helps you go back to your previous position with his arms now tightly wrapped around your exhausted body. He enjoys the slight twitching of your weary muscles. He reaches for your chin and forces you to face him.

„Home?” you ask in a desperate plea for him to return the favour. Your body aching for his touch.

„Home,” Zhongli agrees, as indeed, the Archon is unable to turn down any of your wishes.

Other boys:

Albedo

Xiao

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Kazuha

[portias-husband]

It is no secret that I am absolutely and irrevocably in love with Asra. So, I politely ask, that we get some headcannons for him. Please give us fluff, angst or whatever you want. So long as it includes Asra, we shall be happy. Thank you.

Of course! I love asra too he was the first route i played and they are such a softie ❤️ Kinda got carried away with this one since I’ve fantasised about Asra quite a bit.

Includes NSFW so minors do not read past the cut 

Random Asra x MC headcanons

SFW

- Softest relationship ever

- I’m not even kidding the two of you have the most sweet relationship that ever existed and everyone who sees you two can just tell that you two are no question absolutely in love.

- He’s such a good partner to have since he loves you unconditionally and without restraint meaning you probably never question whether or not he loves you.

- Arguments are also really rare since neither of you want a repeat of what happened during the plague when he left and then you were dead so whenever it gets heated he will give you a look that basically says “okay lets stop this and calm down”, which usually works.

- They usually get some water for you both and faust cuddles both of you, usually scolding Asra for upsetting you to which you both wetly laugh and tell her that it’s okay.

- You always seem to find a way to work it out since you hate arguing and never want to be angry at each other for long and these situations usually end in cuddles with Faust on the couch after she stops being mad at you two for getting mad

- They usually don’t get jealous easily since he is secure in the relationship but if you are the type of person who doesn’t like confrontations and are naïve, then he will get protective but only to make sure you don’t get hurt 

- Domestic life is so pure with him, like I’m talking tea dates and stargazing when either of you have a nightmare.

- His parents love you as well and consider you as their own child, absolutely cooing over anytime the two of you do anything cute. 

NSFW under the cut

- If you’re a sub, he’s a teasing, playful, soft dom. 

- He will probably edge you for a while and playfully ask whats wrong if you start whining, then he will bring you over the edge while praising you for waiting and being so good for him.

- It’s kinda canon that he’s into exhibitionism so a few times he has pleasured you from behind the counter, even while a customer has been in the shop

- They are willing to try more extreme kinks but they have hard passes on hurting you since all he wants is you to feel amazing and they are a big softie.

If you’re a dom, they are a playful semi-brat and he will pretend to disobey until you give him a look and he will melt and then be completely submissive since he just wants to please you.

If the relationship is vanilla without d/s dynamics then the sex is still great and no matter what you do its a loving experience with them

[myherowritings]

PART 2. LOVE IS FAKE, MARRY A WEALTHY SUITOR

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. thank u guys for all the positive feedback on this series so far and i really hope u enjoy this chapter too ! ^-^ xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

It seemed your subtle pleas to the gods to see the mysterious businessman again had been answered, since only the day after Shouto gave you a $100 tip, you saw him at the cafe. 

You looked to the skies with a hint of suspicion. This seemed too easy— You were expecting at least a few weeks of your heart pining as you wondered where-oh-where your dreamy customer could have gone. But instead, after a mere 24 hours later, you saw him enter the store in a pair of pressed trousers and a light blue, button up shirt that was rolled just below his elbows. 

Blinking, you drew your attention away from his exposed forearms. You knew he was attractive from your first encounter, but was he always this hot? 

Sadly, you couldn’t focus too much on that since he had to get behind the line and obstruct himself from your view, and you had to take the order of the next customer. 

“Hi! I can take the next person in line.” You smiled. “Good morning! What can I get started for you today?”

After repeating that five or so more times and starting a few drinks on hot bar, you finally reached Shouto’s place and, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many patrons piling behind him. 

“Good morning, Shouto!” you greeted when he stepped forward to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Better now that I saw you.” 

Your smile faltered as your cheeks heated up, but you tried to brush it off with a laugh. While Shouto had the definite looks of a so-called businessman playboy, his words held none of the flirtatious intonation as one might expect. In fact, he sounded like he genuinely meant it— Like he was only stating a simple fact and had no reason to be shameful. 

It felt both like an attack on your heart and like a refreshing glass of water at the same time. 

“How about you?” he continued. 

“I could say the same thing,” you said with a chuckle, but you found yourself meaning everything you told him. Though you didn’t expect to see him again at the cafe so soon, you couldn’t deny the instant he walked through the doors, your morning felt just a little bit brighter. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but this is a pleasant surprise.” 

Shouto had the decency to look a little bashful as he averted his gaze slightly. “Yeah. I…really liked the...cheese danishes.” 

Surprised, a small giggle left your lips. “Don’t tell me you finished all three dozen of them!”

“Well…” He looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t exactly… I guess you could say that.” 

“I’m glad you liked them so much you came back for more,” you teased, looking down at the pastries from the oven you just stocked. “Sadly, our fresh pastry today is a chocolate croissant. I can tell my manager to have cheese danishes made again soon though!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try the chocolate croissants today then. Maybe five dozen this time.” 

Five multiplied by twelve… A whole 60 chocolate croissants? Were they all for him? You shrugged, not one to judge. If someone wanted to eat 60 croissants, so be it. Though you did hope he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. That might give him a stomachache. 

“Alrighty, five dozen chocolate croissants,” you repeated as you typed it into the register. “And would you like any beverages with that? Another flat white maybe?” 

“Actually, I’ll have a large macchiato with two extra shots of espresso this time.” 

You nodded with a hum. “Long day ahead?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“I hope the coffee and croissants can carry you through, Shouto!” you said, wishing his day would go by smoothly. “Will that be all for you today?”

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too. And yes, that’s it.”

“Great. $73.24 is your total then! Will you be paying in card again?” 

He nodded. 

“Go ahead and scan and sign when you’re ready.”

You busied yourself by writing his name and order on a large cup and starting the espresso pulls. Your manager was helping get the pastries and other orders ready this morning, so it was nowhere near as hectic as yesterday. 

“Your order will be to your right. It was nice seeing you again, Shouto.” You smiled, giving him a small wave and already wishing you could hold the line up to talk to him longer. “See you tomorrow morning?” you asked almost hesitantly.

He returned your smile with upturned lips of his own. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” Before he left the counter, he pulled out another $100 bill—did he go to a dry cleaners to have his cash steamed and ironed? It was almost ridiculously crisp—and handed it to you. “A tip to show my appreciation for your service.”

“A-Again?” you stammered, eyes wide. That was $200 in two days from just his tip alone. That was more than you made in two weeks when you worked part-time! “Are you sure?”

Whether he had money to spare or not, this was incredibly generous of him and you would never have expected this amount from anyone. And it wasn’t like Shouto made it a scene for everyone in the shop to look at and gawk; he was subtle yet unashamed. Like he wanted to do it for no other reason than to do it. 

“Of course. You deserve it for your work, Y/N.”

The customer behind him made an impatient noise and you winced. You wanted to be able to thank him more, but all you had time for was a simple, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Shouto nodded in response before walking to the other side of the cafe to wait for his order while you managed the other customers in line, a fuzzy but warm feeling lingering in your stomach from your bizarre interaction. Money or not, you enjoyed seeing him in the mornings and were already looking forward to your brief conversations that would take place the next days to come.

He certainly gave you something to look forward to amidst the inconsiderate customers who barely saw you as human every morning. Sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

When Shouto left the store and the line had died down towards the end of rush hour, your manager approached you with a curious look on her face. 

“That guy named Shouto…?” Miyazaki said. 

You nodded. 

“A friend of yours?”

“You could say that… We just met yesterday’s morning shift,” you said as you finished up the green tea latte for one of the remaining stragglers from the last hour’s boom. “But he’s really friendly I think.”

“You only recently became associated?” she asked, lifting a brow. “It seemed like you two were quite chummy today.” Then, nudged your side. “He was rather attractive don’t you think? And rich-looking.”

Fumbling with the lid on the beverage, you stifled a surprised cough. Sure, you got along with your boss and thought she was one of the more understanding and kind individuals you have worked under, but gossiping about the looks and potential income of a customer with your 56-year-old manager was not on your bingo sheet as a worker here.

“I…” You called out the order for the latte before turning back to your manager. “He is.”

“Ooh, he’s rich?”

“I meant he’s attractive!” you sputtered, feeling abashed at her blunt words. You thought of the tip he gave you in your pocket and his orders of dozens of pastries. “Rich…maybe so. Not that it matters!” 

Miyazaki tsked. “Of course it matters! Marry rich and your life will be easier. That’s what my mother told me and what her mother told her.” She shook her head. “Should’ve listened.” 

You laughed, feeling only a little awkward. It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentiment from someone older than you. It wasn’t uncommon for family members or even workers you were close to to share that same advice—if you could even call it that.

While you agreed money could make a lot of things easier, marrying someone for wealth didn’t appeal to you. But you recognized that even that may come from a place of privilege to be able to say. 

“He seems like a wealthy suitor for you, yes?”

“Suitor—?” you choked out. “No! I mean— We just met! We don’t know anything about each other really.”

She sighed, “Young people and their obsession with marrying someone they ‘know’ for true love. When do you really know someone anyway?” Waving a hand she changed the topic. “But enough of that. What I wanted to say was next time that man comes in here, we can offer him a complimentary box of a dozen pastries— Since he’s spent so much in so little it feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure. A complimentary dozen.” Finally. Work. A topic you felt much more comfortable talking about. “That, I can do.” 

“And then maybe offer a hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

“Mrs. Miyazaki!” you gasped, feeling only mildly affronted. 

“I joke.” She ruffled her hair and smoothed down her apron. “I’m going to make more pastries now. Can you hold up the front?” 

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks for your hard work!” 

And with that, she headed to the backroom where the kitchen was to leave you alone with your thoughts in a quiet cafe. Rush hour ended so there were only a few customers trickling in, most much kinder and more pleasant to talk to than the bustling businessmen of the earlier shift. 

Throughout your small conversations with the patrons, you found yourself thinking back to two things— One, how interesting traditional values and teachings in collectivist cultures were and questioning where you fell into place with them, and two…wondering about Shouto. 

Tomorrow, he had said before he left. You’d see him again tomorrow. 

Oddly enough, you were looking forward to it more than you’d like to admit. 

— ✩ —

It was the fifth day of the week, the fifth time he had seen you at the cafe, and he was already tempted to see you again. Would it be invasive to get another pastry after work? Would you even be there working at that hour?

Shouto saw you this morning (along with all the other mornings before that) and yet he couldn’t quell the pull he felt towards you with only the short interaction time you had together. But he would take what he could get without being weird. 

He had been told in the past he could be too forward and dysregulate his feelings and scare people off, and that wasn’t something he wanted to risk with you, though he was certainly much better at it now with learning and practice. If he was reading things correctly, you at least seemed to enjoy seeing him during your shift. 

“You got more pastries, sir?” an employee from the medical supplies sector asked him gleefully. “I swear they get better each time!”

Shouto nodded with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be sure to relay your compliment.”

With the dozens of pastries he’s been ordering from your cafe (each order seeming to grow every time he visited after realizing just how much his employees enjoyed it), he would place them around the breakrooms and staff kitchens in the establishment. Those areas were always fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches and chocolates in case anyone needed a little boost, but nothing seemed to bring as much comfort as freshly baked pastries did. And a different baked good almost everyday seemed to give people more to get excited about. 

He owed it all to your sales’ pitch and blinding smile that made him want to buy it. And your personality, of course.

His Personal Secretary had started to wonder why she no longer was tasked with his early morning coffee runs, and Shouto had to find a way to answer without saying it was because there was a barista he wanted to keep talking to. 

Not even he was that shameless. 

The first time, his PS had just called in sick and Shouto decided he might as well head to a cafe himself for the first time in a while. He worried he might have been rusty while ordering, but you did such a good job at being welcoming and guiding the transaction that he found himself actually enjoying it. (Enjoying you, maybe. But it was too soon to admit that.) 

And now, after that initial meeting, he decided it was worth half an hour of his day to give his PS some early morning break time and visit the cafe himself. 

It was worth it so much, in fact, that the next morning on a Saturday, despite most of his employees being given the weekend off, he still went to buy some coffee and pastries. 

“Good morning!” an older lady called as he entered the front doors. Shouto had seen her assisting in shifts and baking pastries when you were busy working the cash register. “What can I get started for you today?”

He looked around the store—relatively quiet compared to the rush hour during the weekdays—and to his disappointment, saw no sight of you. 

The current barista laughed, seeming to read his very thoughts. “Looking for someone? Y/N perhaps?”

His gaze shot up, feeling like a kid getting caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to by his guardian. Cautiously, he gave a small nod. 

“‘Fraid they have the weekends off, actually,” the lady—her name tag read Miyazaki—said. “But don’t look so down, they’ll be back on Monday morning to greet you with a smile.”

He nodded again, feeling his face heat up. Was he that transparent or did Miyazaki just know too much? “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving him over. “No need to be so formal. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Or were you just visiting in hopes of asking our dear Y/N out?”

“No— I…” Shouto felt himself averting his gaze. “I’ll order something.”

At his apparent discomfort, her mischievous gaze softened. ���Of course, hon. Sorry for teasing too much. I was just excited seeing how adorable you and Y/N were.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s not my business. Anyway. What can I get started for you?”

He asked for a macchiato and a couple dozen of today’s pastries, paid, and tipped. (Though, it was initially met with a blatant rejection. He didn’t take it too hard; he knew some older members of society thought of tips as insulting and he’d never force anyone to take a tip if it made them feel bad. But after offering again, she thankfully accepted it.)

When he left the cafe, although the exchange was pleasant enough, Shouto still found himself disappointed he wasn’t able to see you. 

At least he had something to look forward to next Monday morning, though part of him wished the day would somehow come sooner. 

a/n: hope u enjoyed miyazaki’s words of wisdom u.u FHKDF i’m totally kidding, but if ur asian like me then u kNOW what convos like that are like omg ,, just had my mom and two grandmas tell me that recently :’/ kskskfd but anyway i hope u enjoyed this chapter and liked seeing a glimpse of shouto’s thoughts ;3 tysm for reading!

what to expect in the next part:

more shouto and y/n :>

maybe some ~flirting~ pfft idk idk u.u

some minor...misunderstandings 

“hello, zuko here” vibes