#and an 'employee break room' up top instead

[victorluvsalice]

-->And so, the never-ending quest to start filling up these shelves a bit more continued! Victor made some big bags of fruit sugar and potato flour, which I discovered to my delight DID fit on the SrslySims consignment shelves, so I put those out to sell later. Smiler then took over the bulk processor to make a couple of flavored milks (which they tried to put in the bathroom *sigh*) and a box of vegetarian MREs while Victor fizzed up some grape juice and then improved the infuser on the fizzing machine to make better quality products. And Alice concentrated on doing some more canning and preserving, making mushroom conserves and blackberry jam -- at least until the stove broke. Yeah, uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep trying to can stuff on a stovetop with an OPEN FLAMING GAS JET on it! Alice didn’t think so either, and fortunately was able to fix it without issue.

-->Around that time, though, I noticed that Victor and Alice’s needs were tanking -- Victor was hungry and tired, while Alice was hungry and Furious thanks to her werewolf temperaments objecting to all the time spent indoors. And given Smiler was still without that much to do, I decided it was time to head home. But not before taking a few shots of the shelves -- yeah, fine, there’s still a lot of huge gaps, but they’re still looking better than they did before! Things are indeed coming along!

-->And so it was back to the farm for the trio, where I immediately noticed a bunch of the wind turbines were busted again. >.< I promptly put Smiler on repair duty and annoyedly checked the “bills information” to see how that was affecting our ability to build my desired electrical surplus. . .

And saw that said surplus had jumped from a mere 3 energy from before they left to 73. O.o Oookay, uh -- power issues finally solved? Mostly? We hope? Fingers crossed!

-->Anyway, while Smiler got the turbines back up and running, Victor had a BLT and made sure all the pet feeders were full for Shadow and Kelly before heading off to bed, while Alice went off for a hunt, coming back so full of Fury I figured it was easier to just let her tip over the edge into a rampage instead of trying to contain it. . .

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[captainmalewriter]

Miss Pigwin's Journal

Among the myriad of stereotypes surrounding gay men, Ivan never really fit into any of them. He was never the flamboyant queen nor the circuit party gay. Ivan always considered himself to be more of a lone wolf type. Although many would find the life of a social hermit boring and exhausting, Ivan truly didn’t mind his quiet, solitary lifestyle. Just class, work, gym, rinse and repeat. It was a simple routine, but it was one that Ivan loved. 

One evening, after his engineering classes, Ivan made a quick pit stop at the local store before heading back to his apartment. He needed to buy a new journal after he had filled out the last page the night before. Journaling was a hobby that Ivan took very seriously. For the past five or so years, Ivan would take 10 minutes every night to write his complete, unfiltered thoughts in his journal before bed. It was a therapeutic practice for Ivan, and he did not plan to stop anytime soon. 

Ivan was hoping to find a stylish yet relatively cheap journal but was quickly met with disappointment instead as he made his way down the stationary aisle. The store had completely run out of notebooks! A nearby employee told Ivan that the overnight crew would restock the store and that he should return the next day, but he was too determined to give up after having gone through the trouble of walking to the store. He scoured the store until he finally found one misplaced notebook, although its gaudy design left much to be desired…

It was a bright pink journal with glimmering sequins and came with a large bundle of pink ribbon. The journal had an ugly cartoon drawing of a pig in a princess dress along with her name ‘Miss Pigwin’ written in glitter across the top of the cover page. Ivan pulled out his phone and did a quick internet search to find out more about the Miss Pigwin notebook. Apparently, it was limited edition merchandise for some obscure children’s cartoon that never made it past 5 episodes. The idea behind Miss Pigwin was that kids could better understand their pets by helping them communicate with them. Kids were tie a piece of ribbon around an animal, and with Miss Pigwin's help, they would become their best friends. At least that was what the old advertisements promised anyway.

Obviously, the designers meant it to be used for pets like dogs and cats, so it was no wonder the pink journal was quickly discontinued after kids tried to tie ribbons around dangerous, wild animals instead. All in all, it was just cheap scraps of overly decorated paper for imaginative little girls. 

Ivan didn’t care much for the girly pink notebook. However, it was still a notebook at the end of the day, and the $5 price tag was too enticing to give up. He bought it and promptly returned to his apartment where his roommate Jesse was hosting a few of his frat friends over for beer pong. 

Ivan and Jesse were not friends but they were civil enough as roommates. Jesse wasn’t officially a part of a frat yet, but he already had the wild personality of a frat brother anyway. Jesse’s constant partying and drinking was annoying to Ivan, so he often made himself scarce—  as he did that night. He went about his usual nighttime routine and thankfully, by the time he sat down at his desk to journal, all of Jesse’s guests were gone. But just before he could touch pen to paper, Jesse came stumbling into the room.

“Hey, bro, you got any ribbon or string by any chance?” Jesse asked. Ivan hesitated saying yes right away.

“Maybe, what for?” 

“There’s this stupid Tiktok trend going on right now. Dudes are tying a piece of ribbon around their bicep and flexing until it breaks. The bros are saying I need to do every trend I see if I wanna continue rushing.”

“Cool, makes sense. Here, you can have it all. I don’t need it.”

Ivan took the bundle of ribbon that came with the Miss Pigwin journal and helped Jesse tie a piece around his bicep. Although Ivan did not like Jesse in that way, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited as he wrapped the ribbon around his straight roommate’s muscular arm. It was probably the only time he’d be that close to Jesse, so he relished in the moment as much as he could. Once it was tied, Jesse thanked him and left the room to record his Tiktok. Meanwhile, Ivan returned to his journal and began writing. 

March 12th - I am soo fucking h*rny. Sometimes, I wish my roommate would give in to his secret desires and just makeout with me already. 

Just as Ivan finished writing the last letter, a terrifying scream coming from the living room interrupted his journaling session. He quickly ran out with the pink journal in hand and saw Jesse straining himself to break the ribbon. No matter how hard he flexed, the pink ribbon stayed firmly wrapped around his bicep.

Although Ivan was worried about the pink ribbon constricting Jesse's arm, he couldn't help but stare at the massive bulge in his roommate's gray sweatpants. It was huge! Was Jesse hard? Ivan always had a feeling that his straight roommate was packing some serious heat downstairs, but he would've never guessed he'd be that big and thick! Just seeing his bulge was enough to make Ivan's jaw drop!

"Dude is this ribbon made out of fucking titanium or some shit! Where the fuck did you even get this!?" Jesse yelled out in anguish. It was enough to bring Ivan back down to Earth.

"I don't know! It came free with this weird notebook I found."

"Whatever!! Just go get the scissors! This shit's way too tight, my arm's starting to go numb!"

"Right! Hang on, I'll be right back!"

Uh oh!!

Just as Ivan turned around to go get the scissors, a sudden high-pitched voice made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a girl's voice, and it was coming from the notebook in his hands. Ivan looked down and froze from what he saw. The cartoon princess pig had come to life!

Uh oh!! It looks like our new friend isn't being a very good listener! Let's play some music to help clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing a melody while soft piano music played. The music had no effect on Ivan, but it did on Jesse. Jesse suddenly stopped fighting and just laid flat on the floor. Within seconds, he had gone from a pissed off jock trying to rip the ribbon off his arm to eerily calm and relaxed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. Jesse had a dazed look in his eyes once he opened them. He had a dull, almost sleepy-like expression plastered on his face too. It was like he was sedated by simply listening to Miss Pigwin's song! Only once Jesse was fully relaxed did Miss Pigwin finally stop the music.

Yayyy!! No more distracting thoughts! Now what did our best friend tell us?

Ivan watched in awe as Jesse got up from the ground while massaging his protruding bulge. His movements were almost mechanical, like a mindless robot following orders. He then began walking towards Ivan while reciting what Ivan had written inside the Miss Pigwin journal.

"I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate."

It was incredible. Despite having never read it, Jesse kept repeating what Ivan had written over and over like a personal mantra!

Once Jesse closed the gap between them, Ivan got a good look how dilated his pupils were. It was quite the sight to see, though Jesse didn't give Ivan any time to react. Instead, he quickly joined his lips with Ivan's and kissed him roughly. Ivan was caught off guard by the surprise kiss but quickly matched Jesse's energy as the two kissed like it was their last night being alive. Ivan could hardly believe it. He had gone from merely tolerating his roommate's existence to making out with him in the same night! He felt himself light up with joy and pleasure as Jesse's hairy chest pressed against his with every kiss.

They continued at it for a while, locking lips until they gradually moved towards the couch. From there, they both discarded any remaining clothes they had on. Ivan hopped into Jesse's strong arms and went in for another deep kiss. He was shuddering with anticipation as he felt Jesse's rock hard boner tap against his butt. Luckily for him, it didn't take them much longer until they decided to get into position. Ivan spit onto Jesse's cock to lube it up, then guided it into his hole. A deep, sensual moan escaped his mouth as Jesse slowly thrusted his hips into him. Inch by inch, his dick disappeared into his ass. The room then filled with the sounds of men grunting and heavy, cum-filled balls clapping against Ivan's cheeks. Ivan was in heaven, while Jesse was in a trance with only one thought in his mind. Give into his desires, and makeout with his roommate.

Ivan woke up the next morning feeling like a brand new man after the amazing pounding he had received from Jesse. To say he was in a state of bliss would be a massive understatement! Even just remembering the feeling of Jesse's massive cock inside of him was enough to make Ivan smile with delight. But his grin quickly faded when he reached out for the Miss Pigwin journal and found it wasn't where he had left it before falling asleep. Even worse, he found a piece of pink ribbon had been tied around his wrist while he was sleeping.

"No... Nononono NOO!!"

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Looking for something?"

To Ivan's horror, Jesse was holding the Miss Pigwin journal and he looked furious! Although, despite the present danger, Ivan couldn't help but notice that Jesse still had the same ribbon tied around his bicep.

"Hey man... Let's put down the journal, and have a civilized conversation between adults. I promise it's not what it looks like, just let me ex-"

"Nahh FUCK that. I'm glad I woke up just before you did, otherwise I would've never found out what the fuck you did to me with this weird journal. You always gave me weird vibes but this? I... I don't even know where to start I'm so MAD!"

Jesse slammed a fist against the wall, startling Ivan. He then let out a maniacal chuckle as he pulled out a pen and opened the journal.

"Alright, Ivan, you wanna fuck up my mind so badly? Two can play at that game!"

Loud scribbling filled the room. Once he finished, Jesse read out loud what he wrote.

"Ivan's too serious for his own good. He needs to lighten up and join my frat so we can become best bros forever!!"

"...That's stupid. I'm not gonna do that."

"Are you sure?"

Uh oh!!

"I think Miss Pigwin might disagree with-"

Ivan smacked the book out of Jesse's hands, catching him off guard. The journal landed against the wall with a loud thud. Ivan wasted no time making a break for the journal. He bought himself a few seconds by smacking it away from Jesse. Those few seconds were all he needed to open the journal to a new page and write something down. In the heat of the moment, he could only think of one thing to write.

"Jesse's gay 4 me!"

"YOU FUCKER! ERASE THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!"

Jesse grabbed the journal but Ivan had a tight grip on it. The two slammed into the nearby walls and furniture as they tried to wrestle it out of the other's hands. The Miss Pigwin journal was getting torn and crumpled up in the crossfire of their fight, but that didn't stop the princess from carrying out her sole purpose.

It looks- New friend- Good listener! Let's- Some music- clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing her soothing song, forcing both men into a hypnotic trance as they listened. They both fell to the ground screaming as the pink ribbons grew tighter around their bodies. They tried plugging their ears with their fingers, but it was already too late. The second they heard the first few notes of her song, Miss Pigwin was already deep within subconscious- ready to broadcast whatever was written in the journal directly into their brains. However, because the journal had gotten destroyed during the fight, Miss Pigwin's subliminal messaging turned out to be incredibly potent than usual.

Ivan fell back against the ground in a daze. He couldn't believe how discombobulated he was. It was like he was trapped underwater as he felt his mind beginning to clear of any and all thoughts. Ivan let out a heavy sigh as a powerful, cool calm filled his body. Soon enough, the only thing he could think about was how badly he wanted to become a frat bro just like Jesse. Ivan repeated his new life mantra to himself as his mind became hyper focused on only one goal.

"I need to lighten up... I need to join a frat... I need to become best bros with Jesse..."

A lot of his engineering knowledge got wiped away from his mind to make room for his new personality. Mathematics and physics were replaced with workout regimes and a strong, itching need to drink and get laid. The partying lifestyle of the frat bro that once repulsed Ivan became as normal as breathing to the former homebody gay man. Ivan tried resisting against Miss Pigwin's conditioning. He tried reminding himself how much he loved a quiet night at home by himself. He tried recalling how much he hated loud, obnoxious men who did nothing but party and drink all night. But everytime he tried fighting against it, the little voice repeating his mantra grew louder and louder until all opposition was completely stamped out. Ivan had been reborn.

As he rose from the ground with an altered conscience and personality, the only thing on Ivan's mind was how to maximize his gains the next time he hit the gym. After all, how could he even dare to show his face around his frat brothers if he couldn't keep up with them in terms of bodybuilding?

Meanwhile, Jesse laid out sprawled on the ground as a calm stupor washed over his aggravated mind. Soon enough, his mind became a quiet place where only one thought remained.

"I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay... For Ivan..."

Jesse repeated the same sentence to himself until the words no longer felt foreign leaving his mouth. Soon enough, saying he was gay for Ivan felt as natural as saying his name. His desires to sleep with women melted away from his subconscious everytime he recited his new mantra.

Like Ivan, Jesse tried fighting against it. He tried remembering the taste and feel of a woman's touch, but it was no use against Miss Pigwin's powerful conditioning. His memories of being with women were quickly fading. In their place, a deep, profound love for his roommate-turned-loved began to take hold. Within minutes, Jesse wanted nothing more in life than to stand by his boyfriend's side and make sure he felt loved.

Once Ivan and Jesse woke up to their new personalities, Miss Pigwin finished her song, never to be heard from again due to the journal being in tatters. Jesse woke up with a headache and with a grinning Ivan by his side.

"Good morning my handsome boyfriend, how'd you sleep?"

"Amazing because I slept with you, my love." Jesse joined his lips against Ivan's. The two shared a deep kiss filled with passion, ending with a loud smack when they finally pulled apart.

"You ready for today? I can't wait to start the rushing process, then we can join together!" Ivan flashed a wide smile. Jesse wrapped his hands around Ivan's neck.

"The frat can wait till later. Right now, I want you all to myself."

He pulled Ivan in for another kiss. The two men then proceeded to fuck all morning, completely unaware of the strange circumstances that led them to that point. All thanks to a little princess pig on the cover of a bright pink notebook.

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️�� it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

[cherryrainn]

begging u for some fem reader blitzø smut 🙏 we need more blitzø content in this world

━━ ✧ 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; blitzø + fem!reader

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; i'm proud of this. and YEAH SO TRUE

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; sexual content, smut, oral sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, dirty talk,

you push open the heavy door to i.m.p headquarters, expecting to hear the usual cacophony of voices and the shenanigans that often accompany a typical workday. instead, you're met with an unsettling silence. the absence of moxxie's chatter, millie's boisterous laughter, and even loona's sarcastic remarks leaves the place feeling eerily still.

raising an eyebrow, you shrug off the unusual quietude and decide to head straight to blitzo's office. the walls adorned with contracts and pictures of past assignments close in on you as you make your way down the corridor.

you've always sensed a strange, electric tension between you and blitzo. the stolen glances, the lingering touches — yet, neither of you has dared to cross that unspoken boundary.

as you approach blitzo's office, you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest. was he even in there?

you've had your eyes on each other for what feels like forever, but circumstances, or maybe just sheer cowardice, have kept things between you strictly professional.

you knock lightly on blitzo's door, already half-expecting it to swing open without a response. to your surprise, the door creaks open almost immediately, revealing blitzo leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk cluttered with paperwork and empty whiskey bottles. was he waiting for you? classic.

"ah, if it isn't the most fuckable employee walkin' through that door," blitzo drawls, his red eyes lighting up with mischief as he takes in your appearance. "took ya long enough."

rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips, you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "looks like everyone decided to play hooky today. even loona?"

blitzo chuckles, lowering his feet to the ground as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "yeah, somethin' like that. mox and mil.. more like a 'family day out,' or some sappy shit like that. loona.. i dunno. left me here all alone, can you believe it?"

you say nothing. you move closer to the desk.

it's just you and him.

blitzo breaks the silence first, his voice husky and laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability. "y'know, for all the shit we've been through, all the near-death experiences and fucked-up assignments, there's somethin' i've been meanin' to tell you."

your heart pounds in your chest as you lean in, captivated by the intensity in his eyes. "oh? and what's that?"

he smirks, a devilish glint in his gaze as he reaches across the desk, his fingers lightly grazing yours. "fuck the paperwork."

before you can process what's happening, blitzo is standing before you, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

your lips crash against his as he tightens his grip on you, his hands roaming over your body, desperate and hungry. he bites your bottom lip, earning a moan from you, and your tongues dance together as you deepen the kiss.

heat pools in your core as blitzo's hand slips under your top, his claws raking down your back. he pushes you onto the desk, and you find yourself trapped beneath him, his frame pressing you against the wooden surface.

the sound of ripping fabric fills the room as blitzo tears off your top, exposing your bare chest. he lowers his mouth to your breasts, his tongue teasing your nipples before sucking on them. you writhe beneath him, your breath hitching as his fingers trail down your stomach and under the waistband of your jeans.

"tell me you want this," blitzo murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire as his fingers brush against your clit.

"yes, please, i want you," you whisper, your own voice trembling as you cling to him.

that's all the encouragement he needs. in a blur of movement, blitzo yanks off your pants (or whatever you're wearing) and underwear, tossing them aside as he kneels between your legs.

his tongue flicks against your folds, causing you to buck your hips against him. he chuckles, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, before pushing his tongue inside of you.

you let out a moan as he begins to lick and suck at your entrance, his fingers massaging your clit. the heat inside you is unbearable, and you arch your back, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

blitzo pulls away, his eyes burning with lust as he looks up at you. "god, you taste so fuckin' good."

you reach down, grabbing his horn, guiding his head back down to your dripping cunt. he groans against you, his tongue plunging inside of you once more, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

the wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy echo throughout the room, mingling with the sounds of your whimpers and moans. you feel yourself growing closer and closer to climax, your grip on his horn tightening.

"fuck, blitz," you whimper, your thighs quivering as you teeter on the edge of release.

suddenly, blitzo stops, pulling away from you. you whimper, the loss of his touch leaving you feeling cold and empty.

"why'd you stop?" you pant, your eyes pleading for him to continue.

"i think you can do better than that," blitzo smirks, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly rises to his feet, unfastening his pants.

your eyes widen as his cock springs free, already hard and throbbing. his hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs open as he positions himself between them.

you bite your lip as he enters you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. he grunts, his hands digging into your flesh as he begins to thrust into you.

the sensation of him filling you, his cock hitting every right spot, is almost too much to bear. you cry out, arching your back as he pounds into you, his movements frantic and desperate.

"oh, fuck, blitz!" you moan, your hands grasping his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"that's better," he growls, his voice ragged and full of need.

his fingers dig into your thighs, the pain mixing with the pleasure, sending you spiraling towards your release. your muscles tense, your body tingling with the delicious friction of him moving inside of you.

"are you gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispers, his eyes locked with yours.

"yes!" you moan, the heat building inside you reaching a breaking point.

blitzo smirks, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frenzied. "go ahead then, cum for me."

you cry out, the coil of pleasure inside you snapping as you reach your peak. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

blitzo lets out a guttural groan, his cock pulsing inside of you as he comes undone. his hips slam against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as he empties himself into you.

you collapse onto the desk, sweaty and panting, the euphoric afterglow of your orgasm washing over you. blitzo leans over you, his face inches from yours, his red eyes gazing into yours.

"shiiit," he says, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "i think i love you."

you smile, a warmth spreading through your chest as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. "i think i love you too."

[eggcats]

I know everyone's already said this, but Vox is so funny because he's quite literally the most competent and professional Vee.

EXCEPT for when it comes to Alastor.

Like, HE’S the one who had to calm down Valentino and keep him from making a scene. (Especially because, yes, it looks bad if they can't control their employees, but - even in hell - it looks even worse if their top pornstar has to be dragged to the studio vs walking in on his own).

Velvette doesn't give a shit about professionalism. Like, Vox wanted to talk to Carmine about Angelic Security, and you think THAT'S how he wanted Velvette to treat her to try to guarantee them working together? Absolutely not.

(Also, Vox being able to immediately turn the tide of the paparazzi harassing him about news that JUST broke? Granted, he did use his hypnosis, but it wouldn't have worked if he didn't immediately come up with something on the fly. He knows how to keep his company running AND looking good, as WELL as being innovative enough to create new things with little to no notice.)

The other two Vees? I would not trust either of them to be the public speaker or the face of the company the way Vox is. Do you think either Velvette or Valentino would have been able to come up with a solution to the moved-up Extermination date in a way that pleased the general public?

But then. Some old timey radio deer shows back up and he immediately breaks down and can't plan for shit.

He sings a silly little song and immediately gets owned to the point he loses power to the entire city.

He plans to break in using a dude they KNOW is incompetent, and his only response when it (obviously) fails is to fucking gamer anon hate with "hahaha kys loser!" and the second he is confronted with Alastor’s face he can't do anything. He doesn't even try a single other thing after this point, cutting his loses entirely.

And THEN he avoids the meeting sending Velvette instead, potentially fucking up their ability to collaborate because he can't handle seeing Alastor.

This bisexual wreck of a television doesn't fucking leave his gamer dungeon once since Alastor is back, doing everything he can to avoid seeing him in real life.

Like, imagine what dealing with Vox is like from Alastor's perspective. HE never sees the professionalism or competence - he ONLY ever gets the pathetic mew-mew Vox!

Alastor is constantly being told how competent Vox is with his company and shit, but the second he's in the same room with him Vox is glitching and can't walk in a straight line without running into a wall or something. If I were Alastor, I'd have fun teasing the television too, because, like, what's wrong with him? It's funny!

Like, does Alastor register that this treatment is only for him, or does he think the rest of hell is pathetic enough to not notice or to just accept it? Does Alastor think Vox is like this all the time, and he's using his hypnosis to make everyone else forget about it?

Vox is just such a funny man, he has one weakness and it's just Alastor - and Alastor isn't even doing anything, he's just nearby minding his own goddamn business, lmao.

[4ranghaes]

haechan x reader [fluff, slight angst, fem!reader, talks of workplace sexism]

12:28 - “hey do you know where– oh! nevermind, i found her!” your boyfriend’s voice rang through the office.

your head snapped up in the middle of his question. “donghyuck?”

“princess,” he cooed, knowing how much it wound you up to be called that in public, “i brought you lunch.”

your cheeks burned red, apologising quietly to people around the office as your boyfriend made his way over to your desk.

“i was just gonna go get some lunch from the cafeteria, hyuck,” you said, trying to subtly give him angry looks, tugging at his sleeve as you did so.

“what to just sit by yourself?” he murmured so that only you could hear it, in a way that made you bite your lip and look up to the ceiling in anger.

“y/n,” your boss called, striding towards you.

donghyuck suddenly became serious, knowing you didn’t have the best relationship with this particular manager. a sexist pig, he often dismissed the work you did in your role, instead asking you to get food and drinks from the break room. in a very male-dominated office, no one had stood up for you either.

“yes?”

“what is this–” your boss cut himself off, turning to look at donghyuck, “oh, so this is your boyfriend! mr. haechan himself, how do you do?”

donghyuck smiled, nudging you slightly as he bowed and shook hands with your boss, ever so politely, “how do you do, sir? it’s lovely to meet you, i’ve heard so much about you.”

“like me that much, eh?” your boss joked with you, his loud, booming voice clawing at your skin as you chuckled politely. “you should’ve told me you were coming in. my daughters would love to meet you. they’re big fans of l-g-h whatever it is.”

“nct,” you corrected.

“yes, of course, nct!” your boss laughed, “well what brings you here?”

“well i thought i’d bring lunch for my wonderful girlfriend,” donghyuck said, showing off the bag in his hand, “i know how hard she works around here.”

“yes, yes, an amazing cup of coffee again this morning!”

donghyuck tensed, “wow, that too, on top of her work? she must be one of your best employees!”

you nudged your boyfriend, motioning to him angrily as your boss looked around.

“i suppose she is, you know. putting up with all my demands,” your boss chortled, “well, enjoy your lunch both of you, feel free to use the meeting room for some privacy.”

you looked at donghyuck confused, as he smiled in response to your bosses’ words.

“thank you sir,” you both bowed, watching as he left. suddenly, you turned to donghyuck and started whacking him. “stop using your fame privileges to get people to treat me nicely.”

donghyuck shrugged, cockily walking to the breakroom. “and what the fuck else would i use them for, hmm? next mission is getting people in this office to be friends with you.”

“oh my god, i’m quitting. i’m actually quitting.”

[overstuffd]

How do they do it?

(wg story about being secretly turned into the office piggy)

You weren't worried about gaining weight at your new job, even if it did involve sitting behind a desk all day.

One of the first things you'd noticed when you'd come in for your interview was that everyone was in great shape.

No wonder, either, with all the ammenities the company offered. Free food - 3 meals and a day and as many snacks as you want, prepared by the in house chefs.

Fancy coffee machines, fridges stocked with kombucha and seltzer, a gym and spa on site, massages, a nap room - this place took employee wellbeing seriously.

You could already see yourself getting lean, putting on some muscle. Clearly the office culture was one of discipline, and you were ready to slot right in.

☕

Okay - maybe the first few weeks hadn't gone quite as planned. Your workload was heavier than you expected, so there was less time to hit the gym. The chef prepared meals were delicious - so delicious you found it almost impossible to opt for the healthier options over rich, indulgent dishes.

You were drinking a lot coffee to stay focused, at least the machines dispensed endless skinny cappuccinos, but even with that you found yourself craving a sugar hit for attention. The break room might be stocked with almonds and sawdust-tasting protein bars, but you found yourself grabbing a big scoop of m and ms several times a day.

The truth was, you weren't getting any fitter. Instead, you were feeling a little softer all over - especially at the top of your thighs which were spreading wider and wider in your plush office chair.

Meanwhile, your colleagues looked as good as ever. The guy in the next office keeps stopping by to see how you're settling in and every time you swear his grip is a little stronger as he jostles your shoulder.

You vow to double down on keeping in shape - though looks like you'll be working till ten tonight, so you're going to need to fuel up before then.

☕

The friday that marks six months at the company for you is also the night of the office hoilday party before you closed till new year.

Last year, you owned a cozy, baggy, oversized christmas jumper. Now, you own a just-about-covers-your-swelling-gut christmas jumper.

Still, the boss had insisted everyone wear something festive so you don't have much choice.

The party is lavish - specialty cocktails, a huge buffet and tuxedoed waiters circling with hors d'oeuvres and champagne to make sure there's always something within reach.

You mean to keep control of yourself, but all your coworkers keep pressing drinks on you, and pretty soon it's hard to say no. They keep reocmmending food as well, and then the tall girl from accounts you always though was cute is pushing a chocolate coated straberry between your lips. Soon everyone is taking it inturns to feed you, and as confused as you are you can't help but admit you're enjoying it - maybe too much.

That night, after you get home, you spend an hour touching yourself to the feeling of everyone's eyes on you as your over-tight jumper rode up over your rounded stomach.

The next morning though, you're embarassed. How can you have gotten so out of shape so fast? Sure the job is stressful, and there always seems to be food to hand, but everyone else in the office seems to have no problem.

When you're back in the office after new years you're going to turn things around. There's no point starting a diet during the holidays, but in a few weeks you're going to be on the track to dropping the pounds.

☕

Of course, it's not really your fault you can't seem to keep the weight off. Your colleagues all know a few things you don't.

They know that the coffee machine in your break room might offer sinny lattes, but they pour cream-thickened coffees filled with sugary syrups and enough caffeine to keep you craving six cups a day.

They know that the chef - infuses - certain dishes, and makes sure you grab those plates, leaving you dozing and snacking through the afternoon.

They know that your supervisor lets the canteen know to prepare extra large desserts right after assigning you a new pile of work, so you have something to help you deal with the stress.

And they know that one of the perks of the job - for them at, least - is getting to take their stress out on the office piggy. Once the workload gets too much for your struggling brain and your body is properly swollen you'll be gently offered a new role in the company, one more suited to your skill set.

You'll be so tired of the stress, and so eager to please you manager, you sign without reading the job description. That's why you're surprised when you're delivered to your new office and find nothing but a bed with thick straps at each corner and a cart loaded with food - and when your old office-neighbour comes in and grabs a box of doughnuts as he pulls down his suit pants.

[splataii]

so uh @b1ueprinc3 made a post and i was inspired to make this drabble.

pervert manager dabi x male reader

cw: sub/bottom male reader, top/dom character, dacryphilia, degradation, minor exhibitionism, groping

anyway dabi first meets you an just thinks ur so fucking cute. he just loves your enegry and attitude, and becomes a lil too eager to train you, always being a lil touchy. hes down horrendous, always grabbing ur ass to congratulate you for a job well done at the end of the day or whatever.

insists he a “hands on learning” typa guy. always grabbing you by the waist so he can grind his obvious boner against your ass as he scoots behind you. always grabs u by the back of the neck, rubbing a thumb up its side as he leans over your shoulder to look at whatever work has you occupied. grabs you by the beltloop when youre passing him so he can spin you around and tell you about this “important work related thing” while he keeps his fingers pressed into your hips.

he already thinks you look pretty good in the assigned uniform, but one day, he has the genius idea to spill some water or something over you so you're forced to change into a top that's a couple sizes too small (which he insists is the only available uniform, yes it's mandatory, no you can't go home and change).

he promises it was an accident, and that he’ll wash it for you (despite the fact you insist you can clean it yourself) but instead spends his time dropping random shit on the ground so he can see your pants strain against ur ass and the way your shirt rides up your back.

the liar also takes your old shirt to the backroom to fist his cock with, pretending it's ur fucked out face he's cumming on. you ain't never getting that shit back

speaking of jerking off, this bitch does it all the time. specifically does it when youre getting off break and heading to the break rooms, so you can hear the sound of him shamelessly moaning your name as he finishes to another one of his gross fantasies of you laying spread out for him in his bed. he exits the stall and smiles when he sees your face like its no big. always makes sure to give ur ass a nice slap and some half assed “work hard” crap before he leaves you totally embarrassed.

nyway he also a bit overprotective, never stepping more than a couple feet away from you while you're working with a customer, and even other coworkers. he knows people know how cute you are. why would he leave his sweet boy to deal with those random mofos? he just stands behind you glaring when he feels someone is getting too close. you get a little confused, when they eventually leave, terrified, but he's always there to comfort you. your ass is his, you don't need no one else baby<3

he can have a bit of a mean streak sometimes tho, stretching you thin. whenever you (expectedly) fail to meet his impossible deadlines, he’s teasing you. talking about what a dumb little boy you are. he could probably fire you, if he wanted to. but he wont. if you could do this one little thing for him.. he pulls you into an old storage closet, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants so he can slap it on your face and spread his pre all over your cheek and nose. he can't help it, you just look a lot cuter this way. besides, he knows you can take it. dumb little boys like you are only made for one thing. since you're such a bad employee, show him what a damn good whore you are.

dabi claims he's only mean cause he cares. boys like you need to be taught a lesson so no one can take advantage of you. but sometimes, he plays like he's gonna make you answer calls while hes spearing you on his dick, just so he can see your pretty tears as you shake ur head no.

once again, he can have complete one eighty's, giving you all these bonuses and gifts at work saying “you deserve it” and all that shit, but everybody at work knows the reason you get all this special treatment is cause he slutting you out behind closed doors.

at the end of the day, you’re really just dabi’s personal whore. and everyone knows it.

[hazelira]

tiny tempers

The meeting had been dragging on for a while, the steady hum of his coworkers’ voices blending with the rhythmic tapping of pens against notepads. Sunoo sat back in his chair, Suho still nestled in his arms, his tiny body comfortably curled into the crook of his father’s arm. His son’s soft, steady breaths had lulled him into a peaceful nap, his little hands relaxed by his side.

But then, without warning, one of the employees sneezed.

It started with a single, loud achoo, followed by another, and then another. The sneezing fit grew more intense until it seemed never to end. The employee’s apologies barely registered as Sunoo’s attention returned to Suho, who stirred slightly in his arms.

A little grunt escaped Suho’s lips as his eyelids fluttered open, his small face scrunching up in irritation. Sunoo watched in surprise as Suho’s tiny fists clenched, and the baby puffed out his chubby cheeks in a perfect imitation of a grumpy pout.

For a moment, Sunoo couldn’t help but stare at his son, utterly baffled by the sheer force of his son’s mood. How could someone so small be so very displeased?

Suho’s eyes blinked rapidly as if trying to make sense of the world around him. His gaze settled on the men, who were trying to stifle their laughter at the sight of the grumpy little face. Suho’s brows furrowed, his lips trembling as he let out a frustrated, high-pitched hmph and puffed his cheeks even more.

Sunoo’s lips twitched, though he quickly schooled his expression. He’s just a baby, he reminded himself. Just a baby...

But Suho wasn’t done. He puffed his cheeks again, his little body fidgeting in Sunoo’s arms, clearly agitated. The sneezes had done it—his peaceful nap was ruined, and he was letting everyone know it with the full force of his toddler-sized temper.

“Suho,” Sunoo muttered softly, though he wasn’t sure if his son could understand him. “What’s wrong, huh? You don’t like the sneezes?”

Suho’s little arms reached up to tug at Sunoo’s shirt, his tiny mouth making an adorable pout. No more sneezes, it seemed to say. His grumpy expression was so comically exaggerated that even the staff in the room, hardened as they were, couldn’t suppress their laughter.

The employee who had been sneezing earlier, still sniffling, shot an apologetic look toward Sunoo, but Sunoo just shook his head with a half-amused, half-exasperated smile.

“Sorry, sir,” the employee offered sheepishly, his voice breaking through the moment. “I didn’t mean to wake him up.”

Sunoo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let his gaze soften as he looked down at Suho, who was still puffing out his cheeks, a tiny glare aimed at the employee who dared to disturb his nap.

“I’ll have to talk with you about your nap etiquette later, huh?” Sunoo murmured, his voice gentle, even though a hint of amusement coloured his tone.

As Suho’s grumpy face slowly softened, Sunoo adjusted his hold on him, bouncing his leg slightly to settle him back down. He didn’t want to disturb the meeting more than necessary, but his son’s mood had shifted from quiet frustration to a calm almost as abrupt as his previous tantrum.

The baby’s eyes drooped once more, his tiny body finally relaxing as the soft rocking motion and the hum of his staff's voices in the background began to lull him back into slumber.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” Sunoo whispered, pressing his lips to the top of Suho’s head, his hand gently patting his son’s back. He let out a soft sigh, momentarily lost in the unexpected depth of the connection he felt with his son—despite the little grumpy fits, despite the sneezes, despite everything.

And just like that, the moment passed. Suho was asleep again, his tiny face peaceful as he rested in Sunoo’s arms, his earlier grumpiness forgotten as he sank into the warmth of his father’s embrace.

The men continued with their reports, though a few couldn’t help but glance at the father-son duo. Sunoo, usually so stoic and unflappable, gently holding his son and tending to him amid the meeting seemed to quiet the room. Sunoo was no longer the untouchable figure they all knew. In that moment, he was just a father—human, imperfect, but undeniably present for his son.

The meeting finally came to a close, Sunoo dismissing his men with a curt nod. They gathered their papers and laptops quickly, each one casting a subtle glance toward the squirmy little bundle in their boss's arms as they filed out. Sunoo didn’t move immediately, though.

Suho had begun to stir, his tiny body wriggling as he let out soft, sleepy babbles. His face scrunched in frustration, and Sunoo felt his son’s little fists clutching at his shirt again.

“Hmm,” Sunoo hummed softly, leaning back in his chair and shifting Suho slightly so he could see him better. “Still mad about the sneezes, huh?”

Suho let out a small, incoherent string of baby babbles, his lips trembling slightly as his sleepy pout deepened. He blinked up at his father, his big eyes glassy with lingering tiredness. Then, as if he suddenly remembered the offense, he puffed his cheeks out again, letting out an indignant little hmph.

Sunoo sighed, though the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement. He bounced his leg gently, trying to soothe the squirmy toddler. “You’re really holding a grudge, aren’t you? It’s just sneezes, kid.”

But Suho was clearly not convinced. His tiny hands reached up, tugging at the fabric of Sunoo shirt as if to emphasize his displeasure. His little legs kicked half-heartedly, though he was still too tired to put much effort into it.

“Alright, alright,” Sunoo muttered, adjusting his hold on the grumpy toddler. He cupped Suho’s cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the soft, pouty lips. “What do you want, hmm? More milk? A nap redo?”

Suho babbled again, his tone almost scolding, and Sunoo couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “You’re really something else,” he murmured. “So tiny, and already so full of opinions.”

He stood up, cradling Suho closer to his chest, and began pacing the room slowly. The rhythmic motion seemed to calm Suho a little, though he was still pouting fiercely, his cheeks puffed out like a miniature balloon.

As Sunoo walked, he found himself speaking softly to his son, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “You know, you’ve got to learn to let things go, Suho. Sneezes happen. Life happens. You can’t get mad at every little thing.”

Suho responded with a sleepy little grunt, burying his face in Sunoo’s chest as if to block out the rest of the world. His father sighed again, shaking his head in quiet exasperation.

“You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” Sunoo murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Suho’s head.

The toddler finally settled a little, his small body relaxing against his father’s chest, though his pout remained firmly in place. It was clear he wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget, but the steady rhythm of Sunoo’s heartbeat seemed to soothe him enough to keep the tantrum at bay.

As Sunoo continued pacing, the room grew quiet, the earlier tension from the meeting dissipating entirely. In this moment, it was just the two of them—father and son, navigating the delicate dance of understanding each other’s needs.

“Alright,” Sunoo said softly, finally stopping near the door. “Let’s find mama. She always knows how to fix your mood better than I can.”

Suho let out another sleepy babble, his little hand clutching at Sunoo’s collar. His father chuckled quietly, adjusting his hold once more before stepping out of the room, carrying his grumpy, squirmy son with the kind of care that only a parent could give.

You had just finished tucking Suhwa into her crib, her soft coos fading into quiet as she drifted off to sleep. The nursery was calm now, the kind of peace you rarely got during the day. You sighed contentedly, smoothing the blanket over your youngest before stepping away.

As you turned to leave, you saw Sunoo standing in the doorway, holding Suho in his arms. The toddler’s chubby cheeks were puffed out in a grumpy frown, his brows furrowed in an expression so dramatic it almost made you laugh.

“He’s been like this since the meeting,” Sunoo began, his voice low but tinged with a hint of amusement. He adjusted his hold on Suho, who let out a soft huff and buried his face in his father’s chest, as if to block out the world.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you approached. “What happened? Did someone steal his pacifier or something?”

Sunoo shook his head, sighing. “No, but one of my men sneezed during the meeting. Woke him up from his nap. And apparently…” He gestured lightly to the grumpy toddler. “...he’s still not over it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, reaching out to gently touch Suho’s back. “Oh, baby,” you cooed, your tone filled with affection. “Did the sneezes ruin your nap?”

Suho peeked up at you, his pout deepening as he let out a small, dramatic babble that sounded suspiciously like a complaint. His little hands reached for you, and you quickly took him from Sunoo’s arms, cradling him close.

“Come here, my grumpy baby,” you murmured, bouncing him lightly as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know it’s hard being woken up like that, isn’t it?”

Sunoo watched the two of you, his usual stoic expression softening as he saw how quickly Suho’s mood shifted in your arms. The little boy’s pout remained, but his body relaxed against you, his tiny hands clutching at your shirt.

“He’s got your dramatic streak, you know,” Sunoo commented dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.

You shot him a playful glare. “Excuse me? My dramatic streak? Have you met yourself?”

Sunoo huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

Suho let out a soft babble, his tiny voice catching both your attention. He looked up at you with his big, watery eyes, his little mouth forming an exaggerated pout that made your heart melt.

“I think someone just needs a little extra love today,” you said softly, kissing the tip of Suho’s nose. “And maybe a snack. Want a snack, baby?”

Suho babbled again, his tone slightly more cheerful now, though his pout lingered stubbornly. You glanced back at Sunoo, who was still watching the two of you with an unreadable expression.

“You should spend some one-on-one time with him,” you said gently, bouncing Suho slightly to keep him calm. “He needs to know his dada’s there for him, too.”

Sunoo gaze flickered, a brief moment of guilt flashing in his eyes before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You’re right.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’ve been doing better,” you assured him softly. “It’ll take time, but you’re trying, and that matters.”

Sunoo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he simply nodded again. “I’ll take him downstairs for his snack,” he said, holding his arms out.

Suho hesitated for a moment, clutching at your shirt before finally letting Sunoo take him. The toddler’s pout softened slightly as he settled back into his father’s arms, though he still shot Sunoo a grumpy look as if to say, I’m not done being mad at you yet.

Sunoo chuckled under his breath, holding his son close as he started toward the kitchen. “Alright, kid,” he murmured. “Let’s see if a snack can fix that attitude of yours.”

And as you watched them go, a small smile played on your lips. Sunoo might not have it all figured out yet, but moments like this made it clear—he was trying. And that was enough. For now.

In the kitchen, Sunoo held Suho snugly against his chest, the toddler still occasionally puffing his cheeks in residual grumpiness. Sunoo opened the pantry door with one hand, his other securely supporting his son.

"Alright, Suho," he said, his voice unusually patient. "You pick. It's your snack, not mine."

Suho, still slightly pouty but curious now, blinked at the array of snacks before him. His chubby little hand reached out, pointing aimlessly at first before settling on something colorful.

"That one," he babbled, his voice still tinged with a hint of sleepiness.

Sunoo followed his son’s line of sight and saw a box of soft baby biscuits with a bright red label. He pulled it down from the shelf, holding it up for Suho to confirm.

"This one?" Sunoo asked, arching a brow.

Suho responded with an enthusiastic babble, his pudgy hand smacking the box lightly. Sunoo smirked faintly and set the box down on the counter.

"Good choice," he murmured, balancing Suho in one arm as he opened the box and retrieved a biscuit. He handed it to his son, who immediately grabbed it with both hands, his grumpiness melting away as he began to gnaw on the soft treat.

"You’re easy to please, huh?" Sunoo muttered, watching his son with a mix of amusement and quiet affection. Suho looked up at him, crumbs already forming around his mouth, and offered a muffled babble through a mouthful of biscuit.

Sunoo chuckled softly, using a napkin to wipe at the crumbs. "You’re a mess already, kid."

Suho ignored the comment, fully engrossed in his snack now, his earlier frustration over the sneeze completely forgotten. Sunoo leaned against the counter, still holding him securely, and allowed himself a rare moment of calm.

“Maybe I should let you pick more often,” Sunoo said quietly, more to himself than to Suho.

The toddler looked up briefly, offering a crumb-covered grin before returning his full attention to the biscuit. Sunoo shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he adjusted Suho in his arms.

It wasn’t much, but moments like this—letting his son choose a snack, holding him close—felt like a step in the right direction. And for someone like Sunoo, who wasn’t always the best at expressing his love, those small steps mattered.

“Alright, snack boss,” Sunoo murmured, brushing a crumb off Suho’s cheek. “Let’s finish this up before mama comes down and scolds me for the mess.”

Suho babbled happily in response, clearly pleased with his snack and the attention from his father. And for now, that was enough.

After finishing his biscuit, Suho let out a contented babble, his little body relaxing fully in Sunoo’s arms. He looked up at his father with a sleepy smile, his earlier grumpiness completely replaced by satisfaction.

Sunoo wiped the remaining crumbs from his son’s mouth, his movements gentle and unhurried. “Better now, huh?” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Suho’s forehead.

The toddler responded with another babble, his hands reaching up to pat Sunoo’s face clumsily. Sunoo blinked, startled for a moment, before a small, genuine smile broke through his usually stoic expression.

“Alright,” he said softly, his tone unusually warm. “What now? Back to your toys, or do you want to sit with me for a bit?”

Suho simply leaned his head against Heeseung’s chest, his tiny hands clutching at his father’s shirt as if to say, This is fine. Sunoo chuckled under his breath, pressing a light kiss to the top of his son’s head.

“Guess we’ll stay here, then,” he murmured, settling into one of the kitchen chairs.

Just as he sat down, you appeared in the doorway, pausing for a moment when you saw the two of them together. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you stepped into the room.

“Looks like someone’s in a better mood,” you said, leaning against the counter.

Sunoo glanced up at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. “He picked his snack,” he explained simply.

You laughed lightly, crossing the room to stand beside them. “Of course. Suho always knows what he wants, even if he can’t say it yet.”

Suho, hearing his name, looked up at you with a bright grin, his earlier grumpiness now completely forgotten. You reached out to gently pinch his cheek, earning a delighted giggle from the little boy.

“You’re such a little sunshine when you’re happy,” you cooed, kissing his forehead. Then, you looked at Sunoo, your gaze softening.

Sunoo nodded slightly, his hand resting protectively on Suho’s back. “I’ll try to spend more time with him,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm.

You smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing good, Sunoo. They both adore you, even if Suho and Suhwa can’t always say it.”

Sunoo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, and he glanced down at Suho, who was now babbling happily in his lap. For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift, leaving only the warmth of his son’s trust and your steady presence beside him.

“Alright, boss,” Sunoo said, looking back at Suho. “What’s next on your agenda?”

The toddler responded with a cheerful babble, his little hands clapping together. Sunoo chuckled, his earlier stoicism melting away completely in the presence of his son’s joy.

And as you watched them, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of hope. Slowly but surely, the walls around Sunoo’s heart were coming down—for you, for Suho and for Suhwa. Together, you were building something strong, something that could weather anything. And for now, that was more than enough.

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke

[ink-stainedkiss]

Tattoo Artist Satoru Gojo Headcannons

*Not proofread sorry I got to excited and immediately wanted to post this.*

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who is ecstatic when you walk through his shop doors. As you scan the lobby, looking at different tattoo ideas, Gojo sneakily walks over to his employee, who is mainly the receptionist, but he tells her to take a break since she’s working so hard.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who listens very carefully to your explanation. His eyes scanning over your form to uh…get an understanding of where you want the tattoo, yeah, that’s right. He quickly perks up when you tell him you want the ink on your ribs, your hand tracing right under your breast.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who flirts with you shamelessly while others in the room work on their clients.

“So you want it on your ribs, huh?” He asks, inspecting the reference photo you brought in for him. You hum in confirmation,”Yes, is that going to be a problem?” The artist shakes his head,”No not at all, but I’m supposed to tell you that it’s not going to feel amazing.”

Gojo watches as you start to pull up your hoodie sleeve, revealing your arm covered in gorgeous drawings,”I think I’ll handle it.” Gojo gave you a smirk, but on the inside he was still gawking at your arm. If you too were alone, he probably wouldn’t be able to help himself. He stepped back from the counter, slyly lifting his arms to “stretch”, and doesn’t mind how you peek at the slip of skin from his lifted shirt. To add the cherry on top, he catches your eyes, and gives you a flirty wink.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who has to bite his own fist to contain any crude sounds from escaping as you walk past, telling him,”I came here to get a tattoo, pretty boy, not to be teased.”

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who trails after you like an excited puppy to the back tables. He tells you to take off your hoodie, hoping that after he can tell you to take off more. You clearly aren’t shy, because even the way you take off you jacket makes you ten times hotter.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who believes he hit the mother load as he sees the scattered markings of tattoos across your body, since you so gratefully decided to wear a tank top to his store. As he preps the stencil, he can’t help but take glances as you hop up onto the bed. His eyes linger on your bra strap, noting the scarlet material shining through your practically transparent tank top.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who has to keep his face neutral when he asks you to lift your top. His jaw tightens at the sight of your bare skin and he has to tell himself to be professional. It’s just so hard when you're laid out on his medical bed and looking so, so, perfect.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who chuckles when you let out a small squeak as he applies the cold sterile wipe on your skin, his azure eyes locking onto your for only a second, before he’s looking away. The tension in the room is thick and he loves every second of it.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who loves seeing you flustered by his intense staring.

He tilts his head and gives you a sultry smile, asking,”Are you ready?” His mouth twisting in a lazy grin. You open your mouth to respond, but you can’t, instead you look away, a blush reaching your cheeks,”Mhm.” You hate how his small laughs make your heart flutter.

He begins to trace your tattoo, but as the needle hits your skin, you inhale sharply. Of course it’s not pleasant, but it wasn’t agonizing. Gojo flicks his eyes back and forth, checking in on you and making sure he doesn’t mess up your tattoo. As he glides the tool down, it hits a spot that makes you gasp, impulsively grabbing ahold of Gojo’s hand that rests on your stomach. He doesn’t mind, hell, he loves the fact that your using his hand as a vice. His smirk grows as you squeeze his hand each time the needle punctures your skin a bit too hard.

To soothe you, his thumb gently caresses your skin, and it seems to work.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who praises you immensely once the tattoo is done. He finds the sparkle in your eye as you stare at the ink in the large mirror adorable. While most will say he’s just charming you, he honestly finds you stronger than most that walk in. Especially because it was a rib tattoo. He’s seen some men that have gotten the same and walk out of the shop with tear stains coating their cheeks. But you didn’t even need one break.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who grins as you examine your new tattoo in the mirror.

“Ya know, it kinda matches mine.” Without waiting a second, Gojo is lifting his shirt, making you go beet red. His abs make their way into your vision, but the artist is turning around before you can look any longer. There on his back are beautiful marks, etching from his shoulder blacks, to the bottom of his back.And dear god, it’s gorgeous. Everything. The ink to just his figure. He’s large. You reach out a hand to feel, but you instinctively yank it back, embarrassed at your actions.

Gojo had seen it in the mirror and chuckled under his breath,”It’s alright, you can touch. I don’t bite.” He purred,”Unless you want me too.”You were speechless by his boldness. It was super hot, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You hesitated, but the tattoo was practically calling to you. Finally, your soft fingers traced over the sketches, making Gojo let out a shaky breath.

You started at his shoulders, dragging down till you hit his spine. Gojo obviously had a sensitive spot, because you were sure you heard a muffled groan.Gaining more confidence, you use both hands, massaging his sculpted back,”It's breathtaking.” That’s it. That’s all Gojo needed to snap, because in an instant he’s flipping around, stealing your lips in a hot and needy kiss.

Tattoo Artist!Gojo who makes his employees question why your tattoo is taking so long and why his room is locked…

[shootingstarwritings]

Body a Day #10: Table

Alex Fisher yawned as he entered the water treatment plant. It was five in the morning, but he had to be in early due to being just recently assigned to the morning shift.

His boss, an older man in his 50’s by the name of Mr. Fisk, urged him to do so to raise his motivation. He had taken a few days off for whatever reason, but came back with a perky mood, which seemed to infect everyone in the morning shift. “Everyone there is so chipper and nice. If you’re feeling unsatisfied, perhaps this new schedule will help your mood.” Alex wasn’t convinced, but soon agreed thanks to small pay bump Mr. Fisk offered.

Alex went into the company break-room to dump his lunch into the fridge, but paused when he saw a plate of doughnuts on the table. He cocked an eyebrow and looked at the note left nearby.

“Thought some of you could use a little pick-me-up!” The note said it was from Mr. Fisk.

Oh, so that’s why everyone’s so happy in the morning. Little snacks, thought Alex. He grabbed a doughnut—surprised by how warm it was—and scarfed it down before heading to his office. “Mmm! Oh, that’s good,” Alex couldn’t help but moan out-loud. With doughnuts that good, how could anyone be in such a foul mood?

Now with a spring in his step, Alex made his way up the stairs, but stopped and doubled over halfway up. “Oh, the fuck…? What was in that… urgh…!”

“Ah, there you are, Alex!” From the top of the stairs, Mr. Fisk called out and smiled Alex, who was on his knees, trembling. “I see you had one of my special treats. That’s good, boy! Just relax and it’ll all be over soon,” he said as he walked down to Alex.

“The fuck…? Boss, what’d you do to those…? Am I dying?!”

Mr. Fisk, still unfazed, kneeled down so he was at eye-level with Alex. “In a way, yes,” he said, gazing intently into Alex’s eyes. Blue film flashed over his brown eyes, which caused Alex to flinch back and nearly fall. “Hang on there, champ,” said Mr. Fisk, catching Alex easily with his strong, broad arms. “Can’t let you die and take one of my spawn with you. You’re too valuable for us.”

By now, Alex’s vision was swimming. Mr. Fisk’s smiling face was growing blurrier by the second. The pain had stopped. Instead, there was a numbing sensation spreading throughout his body. He knew he should’ve been worried, but it was difficult to think. All he could do was string together a few words. “Feels… wrong…”

“No, son, it’ll feel good very soon,” cooed Mr. Fisk before pulling Alex in for a kiss. Alex’s limp body trembled and convulsed.

A few minutes passed, and soon he was back on his feet with a smile that matched Mr. Fisk’s. “Thank you so much for the snacks, boss!” said the new blue-eyes Alex as he beamed, chest puffed out with pride.

“Not a problem, Alex. Oh, but you had green eyes, remember? Take care to fix that before anyone gets suspicious. And get back to work! Remember, our main objective can only come to pass once we take over 50% of this company. Actually, hmm… Come to my office. Seems there’s a bit of an issue we need to take care of.”

Alex looked down at the erection that threatened to burst from his slacks. The blue slime that had taken over his body was still new to the human body, so just the very sensation of being able to move such a gigantic creature like this was exhilarating. He blushed and followed Mr. Fisk like a puppy.

“Ahh, argh… oh, being a human is so great…!” Alex said, moaning as Mr. Fisk sucked him off. He sat spread-eagle on Mr. Fisk’s leather chair as his boss, on his knees, went to town on his cock. “L-Let’s spread this joy all over, Mr. Fisk. I’m your—w-woah—I’m your loyal employee! Ah, ahh!” Alex covered his mouth and tried to drown out his moans as he shot his first load as a human all over Mr. Fisk’s face. “J-Just tell me what to do, Mr. Fisk. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Patience, patience,” said Mr. Fisk as he ruffled Alex’s damp hair. “First we have to take over this water treatment plant. All employees need to know the joy of our true form before we can spread further. Now, let’s get back to work.”

“Yes, sir!”

[pedroshotwifey]

Hi! I have one request. Just a horny Joel Miller jacking off to porn. A solo session. That’s pretty much it 🫶

You got it, baby. Hope this is what you were looking for ;) If not, please feel free to send me another request or message and I'll fix it up for you!

Also gonna make a PSA here and say sorry that I still don't have updates for TTF or FB. I also want to apologize for not being super active lately. I promise I'm trying, I just have a lot going on right now. Love you all and hope you're doing well!

W/C: 1.1k

Tags/warnings: male masturbation, pornographic details, I mean c'mon it's pretty self explanatory

Stress Relief

It’s been an absolute shit show of a day. Wrong tile ordered after being on the waitlist for a week, two employees calling out, a customer changing their mind on the layout three fourths of the way through the project. Between it all, Joel didn’t get a single break. 

He’s tired, fed up, and ready to go home to an empty house. With Sarah gone to sleep over at a friend’s, he knows what he’ll be doing tonight. He’s pent-up as hell and there’s only one good release he can think about right now. Unfortunately, he’s been brewing on it the entire hour-long ride home. 

Thinking about the pull on his cock, his fist wrapped tightly around it. How good it’ll feel as he pushes all his thoughts away for the build-up. How the relief will take over him after he comes, exhaustion finally able to catch up to him and let him rest.

By the time he pulls into his driveway, he’s straining almost painfully against his jeans. And by the time he’s locked the door, he’s decided that anything else he needs to do tonight can wait. 

He shoves his coat off and drops it in the front fall before making his way to the living room. He doesn’t waste time turning on the light, instead bypassing the switch and scooping up his laptop to open on the coffee table in front of where he takes a seat on the couch. 

Shamelessly, he unbuckles his belt and opens a new tab. He clicks on the first video, not bothering to be picky. It begins to play, showing a man sitting on a couch, a woman coming up to him and sliding into his lap. Joel licks his lips and reaches for his cock about halfway before coming to a stop. His lube is sitting in the top drawer of his nightstand. 

And sure, he doesn’t need it, but god would it be so much better if he did. He decides to just get up and get it, stomping through the house into his bedroom to retrieve it. 

By the time he’s back to the couch, the couple in the video are naked and grinding against each other. As he opens the bottle of lube and squirts it on his open palm, the man slides inside of the woman’s heat. He begins thrusting up into her as Joel frees his length from his boxers, his heavy balls resting outside of them. Even the cool air against him feels heavenly. 

“Oh, fuck,” Joel groans as he wraps his lube-slicked fist around his aching cock. His hips buck with the contact, thighs tensing in both relief and anticipation. Lewd moans stream from the speakers of his laptop, the exaggerated noise turning him on way more than it probably should. 

He can’t help it though, the way his dick twitches when he looks down at the screen just in time to see the couple in the video switching positions. The man grabs the woman roughly only to bend her over the arm of the couch and slam back into her. The camera comes in close to capture the way her body jolts with the force in which the man is thrusting into her stretched pussy. 

Joel grunts, his teeth gritting together as he squeezes his cock. His stomach clenches as he tries to control himself. She sounds so sweet, her little whimpers and pleads for more of her partner’s cock swirling around his lust-filled head. He resumes up and down motions on his cock, tugging furiously and focusing only on the way the smooth skin of him feels so good gliding against his lubricant. He wants to draw it out, but he knows he can’t. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the symphony, imagining it’s him pounding into her sweet pussy instead, him getting his frustrations out through her body. His cock making those squelching noises with each push in, his cock collecting a milky rim at the base as the girl writhes in pleasure around him. 

He licks his lips, chest and cheeks pinking as he gets lost in his own fantasy. He pictures himself using the side of the couch for leverage, thrusting fast and slamming as hard as he can against her to get her to scream out in ecstasy. He would wrap her hair in his fist to pull her soft, warm pussy onto his dick until he spills inside, filling her up to the brim. 

Joel begins to pant as he tugs harder, opening his eyes to see they’ve switched positions again. This time, the girl is laying flat with her back on the couch, the man in front of her with his tongue on her cunt. The man is holding her down by her thighs and stomach as she squirms in overstimulation, but she cries for more even as her body tries to get away. 

Joel wishes he could taste her on his own tongue. It’s been far too long since he was able to feast on a woman in such a way. Too long since he had anybody to get him off but himself. 

Suddenly, the girl starts to come, her moans getting louder and more high pitched as she clenches around the man’s fingers. He doesn’t slow as he helps her through it, prolonging the orgasm until the girl is openly sobbing. 

The sound of Joel’s furious pumping is starting to get louder as the lube spreads and warms even further, the slick slapping noise every time he hits his pelvis almost drowning out the sound of the video. If he tries hard enough, he can even imagine it’s a real cunt he’s fucking into right now. 

He knows he’s getting closer. His balls start to tighten and he throws his head back, ears beginning to ring as he puts all of his focus on crossing that finish line. His breath comes out thinner but still noisy, whines and groans tumbling from his lips, unrestrained in the empty house. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he grunts a final time before spilling over his hand. His jaw falls slack as he drags it out, pumping himself dry even after it becomes too much. He relishes in the way his own cum easens the slide and keeps him warm as he softens. He wants so badly to keep going, get himself hard again, but he can’t. 

He hisses through tightened teeth and finally lets his hand fall from his limp cock. The video’s ended, leaving him alone in his living room to cool off. Deciding he’ll just let himself relax to get his bearings for a moment, he lays his head against the headrest on the couch. His eyes fall closed again as his breathing starts to even out. He can only tell at the last second that he’s about to fall asleep, but he’s too far gone by then to care.

[libby-for-life]

Hey Libby! I was debating to send this or not, so I just thought what the hell. How about instead of just yandere Lucifer, we could also have yandere Adam? Couple that kills together stays together, lol.

Here's the scene: It's late in the night and everyone, but Adam and Lucifer, had called it a night. The two of them are cuddling in the lounge room, with a bottle of wine on the table in front of them, talking about anything and nothing. When Angel Dust came stumbling into the open area. Adam notices right away that Angel winces with every step he takes. But when asked what's wrong, Adam gets some bullshit excuse that just made him even more concerned. Before Adam could questioned him again, Angel Dust is already walking pass them and up the stairs, with a hurried good night over his shoulder. Adam in disbelief just stared at where Angel Dust use to be, debating with himself into going or not, wondering if it'll make Angel Dust even more closed off.

Before Lucifer's voice brought him back, Adam, My Love. Go to him

Adam glanced down at him, surprised, before glancing towardthe almost emptywine glass. Are you sure?

Lucifer smiled softly, before bringing himself closer to Adam and giving him a soft kiss. After pulling away he said, I'm sure, My Love. I'll see you in our bedroom once you're done.

Adam smiled softly before kissing Lucifer again, before getting up towards the stairs and heading to Angel's floor/room. Once he gets in Adam sees him shaking, curled up on the middle of his bed. Adam joins him on the bed, and cuddle up to him. He doesn't say anything, just softly combing his hands through Angel's hair, until Angel was ready. And when he does it's just awful.

Adam knew Valentino wasn't the.. best boss to his employees and he always seem to have it out for his.. Top Whore. Adam felt a snarl bubbling in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down when Angel Dust whimpered in pain at the slightest movement.

Adam pulled away slowly and got up softly grabbing Angel's wrist to bring him up as well softly speaking him, Let me get you bandaged up. A few soft words later, Angel is bandaged up and snuggled back into his with Fat Nuggest cuddling into his fluff.

Adam quietly left, his soft smile instantly dropping into a sneer as the anger and the rage and the pain, he was holding back from escaping was fully boiling inside him.

He quickly made his way to his and Lucifer's shared quarters. Once he opened the door he was met with Lucifer's knowing red eyes. Adam didn't need to explain what he was about to do, he just said, What you like to join me Luci~?

AAAHHHH!! I'm sorry for this long message I just need to get this off my chest and HOLYDUST friendship has me in a chokehold for the time being. Anywho what do you think?

Lucifer smirked at his beloved little lamb. So cute! Especially when he got in a murdering mood. The King chuckled before gulping his wine in one go. "Of course, I want to join you." He purred making Adam shiver. He always made Adam weak in the knees when he used that voice.

Getting everything they needed was easy. Lucifer was backing up Adam with his presence so all he needed to do was get themselves in the Vee tower.

They had a roach to kill.

The next morning, Angel walked downstairs in a shaky manner. Apparently, he felt the soul contract break the moment Valentino died. They had burned the three Vee's in their tower.

"I just don't understand. Who could be powerful enough to do that?" Angel said in a slightly scared tone. Adam smiled behind his glass of coffee as he snuggled close to Lucifer who was reading the paper.

"Who knows~?"

[iamnotthere-idonotdie]

dream of me

part one

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synopsis: reader is an employee at wayne enterprises and gets a promotion from bruce, but the line between your professional relationship is blurred when he invites you to dinner.

content: bruce wayne x reader, no use of y/n, some cursing, some sex but not too graphic, mention of parents’ death

a/n: i had some other plans for this story but got a bad case of writers block so i decided to leave it here instead of dragging it out for the sole purpose of adding another plot point, i don’t have any plans for more parts to this but we’ll see, i honestly think i was more envisioning keaton’s bruce wayne for this story (at least i envisioned his house to look like keaton’s) because battinson’s would be pretty uncharacteristic for this, maybe this is an au where bruce wayne isn’t batman and just works at the company but i don’t know, point is just interpret bruce however you’d like, as always sorry about the typos, also sorry if it’s inaccurate that bruce doesn’t cook (i wasn’t sure if it was canon that he does or not so sorry if i was wrong in my guess, i should’ve just looked it up but honestly i was just ready to finally get this out of my drafts)

edit: i got around to making a part two

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grey clouds encompass the sky. your window is frosted by the freeze outside and slow snowflakes fall down like confetti. you walk up to the window and put your hand on it, letting the chilled glass send a shiver down your spine. it’s the first snowfall of winter. the first of likely many. though your penthouse offers a lavish view of the icy landscape of beautiful serenity, you know on the streets below the ice has already turned to slush and the snow has darkened from the dirty concrete. nothing beautiful lasts long in gotham city.

you pull your robe tighter around your shoulders and let out a sigh. you suppose you’d better get dressed for work. you walk across the bedroom to your closet and begin selecting your outfit. a stylish ensemble of pants, a button down top, and a sweater. you grab your boots out of the closet and set them down on the hardwood floor, the thud waking up your partner in bed. well, not exactly partner. but he kept you company last night, and warm this morning.

he rubs his eyes and sits up in bed.

“you’re leaving?” he asks, his words slurring as he tries to wake up.

“i have to go to work. we have a budget meeting today. i can’t be late.” you reply as you put your boots over your thick socks.

“what time is the meeting at?”

“ten.” you reply, flatly.

“well then what’s the rush? you still have plenty of time to get there.”

“not in this ice, i don’t.”

“well then at least let me kiss you goodbye.”

you reluctantly walk back over to the bed and kiss his cheek. you feel a sting in your chest and realize he didn’t see this as the one night stand you did.

“bye. i have to go.”

“see you later?” he asks as he gets out from under the covers, his clothes still off.

“maybe.” you say coldly. you don’t have time for this.

“okay, fine. bye.” he replies just as icy. good. it’s easier that way.

you put your coat on and grab your bag as you walk out the door, locking it behind you. he’ll unlock it again when he leaves but mrs. hanson down the hall has a spare. you’ll text her to lock the door for you later.

just as you predicted, the roads are a nightmare. you’re weaving in between other cars, willing the other drivers in them to go faster. you can’t be late for this meeting.

you finally get to the tower and pull into the garage, opting for a space right by the elevators. maybe if you get this promotion they’ll give you an assigned spot.

you get to your desk at 9:46. with a few minutes to spare, you go to the break room and make a coffee. someone keeps using your mug, so you have to use the communal one with the cartoon dog on it. not as professional as you’d like. and you can’t use a disposable because wayne enterprises is committed to being waste-free. at least waste-free when it comes to the break room. other areas in the company could benefit from that policy. but that’s what you’re going to propose in your meeting. you know this corporation is not going to run out of money anytime soon, but there are still places to improve on efficiency. you drink your coffee, black, and make your way back to your desk. you glance at the conference room every few seconds to watch your boss set up for the meeting. you analyze his every move, trying to gauge his mood at the moment. sometimes these proposals of yours don’t go over very well if he seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. you need him in a good mood. this meeting can potentially determine whether or not you can continue climbing the corporate ladder into that manager position you’ve been pining for for two years.

you gather your folder and notepad, opting to leave the coffee sitting at your desk, and you walk into the conference room.

“good morning mr. glass. enjoying the snow this morning?” you greet him in your most chipper tone in an attempt to sway what you think is a bad mood.

“well i would if the roads weren’t so goddamn icy. these people can’t drive in the snow.”

so maybe starting the conversation with that was a poor choice.

“yes, it can be very frustrating to drive in it.” you try to be as agreeable as possible.

more of your colleagues start to filter into the room as you take your seat at the end of the table. the conversation is low between everyone as they wait for the meeting to begin.

after 15 minutes, you start getting more anxious. your stare threatens to burn a hole through your folder with the proposal in it. why is this taking so long?

you now understand why there’s been a delay, as bruce wayne enters the room. fuck. bruce wayne is going to have to listen to your proposal now? it was nerve-wracking enough to have to pitch this to your boss, but the owner of the company? your boss’s boss? your hands start to shake and you try to wipe the sweat off of them onto your pants.

“i apologize everyone. i didn’t mean to keep you all waiting.” mr. wayne says as he takes his seat on the opposite end of the table.

mr. glass stands up from his seat at the head of the table. “well as long as you’re here, let’s get started on our quarterly report and budget for next month.”

the rest of the meeting is clouded by your anxiety. all you can think about is how much you don’t want to fuck this up. especially not in front of bruce wayne.

“well it looks like there’s plenty of room for improvement. how do you suggest we close this gap?” mr. glass asks the room, but it’s clear he is directing the question at mr. wayne.

“does anyone have any suggestions?” mr. wayne looks around the table.

without thinking you raise your hand and speak up.

“i have a budgeting proposal that i would like to share. if that’s alright.”

“that’s more than alright. let’s hear it.” mr. wayne gestures for you to take the stand, so to speak.

you stand and shakily take your papers out of the folder.

“as we all know, our expenses have been increasing as of late. and while these expenses have allowed us to improve on some essential aspects and departments, i believe there is a more efficient way we could be doing it.” you pause and look around the room. “firstly…”

the pitch goes better than you could have imagined. you were able to make your proposals clearly, answer questions thoroughly, and present confidently. you sit down after finishing and can’t help but smile, proud of yourself.

“well, that was quite a lot. thank you, but i think some of those implementations are a bit far-fetched.” mr. glass says and you can’t help but hear the condescending tone. your smile drops and you feel your face get hot in embarrassment. so much for that promotion.

“i actually really like what you had to say. i especially liked the suggestion to put more money into outreach.” mr. wayne says to you, smiling. “did you have any specific suggestions on where to do that?”

“thank you mr. wayne. i think it would be extremely beneficial and useful to prioritize teaching youth about technology; promoting stem learning and encouraging them to pursue higher education and research into it. we can even offer scholarships and grants to help students who won’t be able to afford the college tuition. and possibly gifting students new computers to further encourage learning.”

you get so passionate about this topic. you yourself were one of those kids. those kids who didn’t grow up in a mansion, but in a dingy apartment with a single father. those kids who couldn’t even afford to think about college, let alone actually pursue it. it was through a wayne scholarship program that gave you the opportunity to go to university. and now, if you have any say in the matter, you’d be proud to help give that opportunity to someone else who needs it.

“i think that’s great. giving these kids a way to focus their skills in a field they love. great work.” mr. wayne looks impressed, and you can’t help but smile even bigger.

“i appreciate that, mr. wayne.”

mr. glass clears his throat and stands again.

“well it looks like we have a solution here.” your boss says, clearly annoyed. “meeting adjourned, everyone. thank you.”

you stand up and gather your things together. you notice out of the corner of your eye that mr. wayne is making his way toward you.

“that was an excellent proposal. i think there’s a lot of potential there.”

“thank you mr. wayne.”

“bruce, please. i’ve actually been thinking about starting a new outreach division specifically working with the youth of gotham. when that happens, i’d like for you to head that department.”

you stare at him in shock for a moment then finally speak up.

“really? you want me?”

“you clearly have a passion for this. we need that.”

“wow. thank you. i’d be very interested in that.”

heading a division? in a program you care deeply about? this is much better than you had hoped for.

“great. i’ll be in touch and we’ll get started soon.”

“perfect. thank you mr. wa..”

“please, just call me bruce.”

you feel yourself blush a bit.

“bruce, thank you. thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“it’s my pleasure. i’m happy to give the position to someone who really cares about it.”

“i do, very much.”

bruce just smiles as he starts out the room.

“it was nice meeting you. and i’m looking forward to working with you on this.” he says.

“it was nice meeting you too. thank you, again.”

bruce smiles as he exits the room and you watch him through the glass as he makes his way down the hall.

you can’t believe it. this is the perfect opportunity for you. you spend the rest of the day too distracted by glee to focus on your spreadsheets. this is life changing. you can’t help but think of bruce differently too. he’d been up to your floor for meetings many times before, but this was the first time you were sitting in too. you’d always pictured him, frankly, not very positively. you knew this company was a great one and you were proud to work here, but now you’re feeling even better about being a part of wayne enterprises’ legacy.

at 5:36, you start gathering your things to go home. after organizing your desk and grabbing your bag, you start heading out of the office and to the elevators to the garage. you’re the last one to leave on your floor—even mr. glass left early—so you wait by the elevators alone. you hear the familiar ding and the doors open to reveal bruce wayne inside. he’s flipping through some pages in a manila folder when he looks up at you and smiles.

“hello,” he says pleasantly. “last one out?”

“yes, it’s just me.”

“what floor?”

“one, please.”

he presses the button, the button stating GF already glowing.

“thank you.”

the rest of the elevator ride is silent. bruce seems enveloped in this folder and you aren’t much of a talker anyways. the doors open and you start to exit the elevator, when bruce says,

“i’d like to start this project as soon as possible, monday.”

you stop and turn to face him. he’s smiling lightly and you smile back.

“that would be perfect. i’m very excited to start working on it.”

“i am as well. and i’m looking forward to working with you more closely too.”

“thank you bruce. i look forward to that as well.” and with that, the elevator doors close between you.

you smile again, thinking more about this job. but you realize you’re not just excited about the position, but the close proximity you’ll be working with bruce now. and how he said he’s looking forward to it.

you quickly dispel the thoughts from your mind. you’re frustrated at yourself for thinking of something so unprofessional. he was bruce wayne, for gods sake. your boss. any other notions needed to be eliminated, especially before starting this new position. you can’t afford something like that distracting you from doing your job and doing it well.

the weekend is spent with you primarily working on the project. you want everything ready to go and well-organized on monday. you want every detail planned out, to the tee. sunday night, you have all your folders, planners, binders, and other papers, all organized, sitting at the table by the door so you don’t forget them. you finally allow yourself to relax a minute before going to bed, so you draw a bath. you sit by the tub and watch it fill with the warm water, letting your mind wander. the rush of the water streaming out of the faucet provides the perfect white noise for you to get lost in a daydream. you think of this job, the company… bruce. when your mind starts to think of him, you let it stay on the thought. the thought of him, how nice he was to you during the meeting and afterwards. the elevator ride and his sweet goodbye. you think of his smile and you find yourself smiling too.

the sound of the water overflowing the tub jolts you out of your dream state.

“shit!”

you shut the faucet off and pull the plug on the tub drain to let the water go back down. you grab a few towels and try to mop the water up off the floor, leaving them in a wet pile by the door. you’re not feeling very relaxed anymore and don’t quite feel like a bath, but you’re not about to let this water go to waste. so, you slip your bathrobe off and slide into the water, grateful it’s still warm. you let out a sigh and close your eyes, trying to find serenity. again, your mind goes back to bruce. you can’t believe you’re allowing yourself to develop a crush on him. are you in elementary school? this is your boss, you can’t let these thoughts jeopardize this amazing career development.

you sit there for a while, until the water starts to cool down and your fingers start to prune. you get out of the tub and drain it, then grab your wet towels and bring them to the laundry room to wash. you take your robe off, the cold air stinging your naked body, and throw it in the washing machine too. you make a stop at the thermostat to turn it up as you make your way to your bedroom. you slip into pajamas and gingerly walk to the window and look out over the cityscape, the foggy night sky making it look spooky as ever. you allow yourself one last thought of bruce before you get into bed and fall asleep.

you wake up extra early monday morning and head straight to work. the ice has luckily been cleared a bit by gotham’s snow plows, but that doesn’t stop the traffic from forming. it’s okay, you gave yourself plenty of time to get there.

you get up to your floor almost an hour early and make a cup of coffee in the break room. at least one positive of coming in this early, no one’s using your mug.

you sit down at your desk and start running through your folder for the project, drinking your coffee until the mug is almost dry.

“good morning.”

you’re startled by a low voice behind you. it’s bruce.

“good morning bruce. you’re in early.”

“i could say the same to you.”

“i’m just ready to get started.”

“well great. we’ll get things started once everyone else gets in.” he points to your near-empty mug. “more coffee?”

“oh, sure. thank you.”

“how do you take it?”

“just black, please.”

bruce picks up your cup and takes it back to the conference room, his own mug in his other hand. he comes back with two steaming cups and sets yours back on your desk.

“thank you.” you say, picking it up and taking a sip.

“of course. so, how was your weekend?”

“it was good. mostly just working on this.” you pat your folder, gesturing to the project.

“i hope you were able to get some rest in too.”

“i was, yes. and you? how was your weekend?”

“oh, fairly uneventful. i spent most of it working as well.”

“well, i hope you were able to get some rest in too.” you say with a smile.

bruce smiles back

“i was, yes.”

the two of you continue talking at your desk as the first few members of your team start to trickle in.

when the rest of your team arrives, you and bruce all meet in the conference room to discuss strategies and begin the plans for this venture. it’s a productive day, with you sharing your thoughts on how to increase efficiency and bruce bouncing off your ideas. you realize you two work well together, your shared values and ideals harmonizing with each other to create a thought out and amazing plan. you start packing up feeling even more confident with this new position and you already cannot wait to keep going with it.

at the end of the day, bruce finds you again at the elevator, and this time the ride isn’t filled with awkward silence but with engaged conversation between colleagues.

“i enjoyed hearing about your plans to bring this project into gotham’s schools. your point about giving each classroom the proper curriculum via new technology was especially helpful.” bruce smiles at you and you can’t help but feel proud of yourself.

“thank you bruce. i think the whole team was able to work very well together and we made some great progress today.”

“i think so too.”

the elevator dings and the doors open to the garage.

“well, thank you again. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow.” he says with a smile.

you walk towards your car with your back facing the elevator when you hear the doors close. and then footsteps coming up behind you.

bruce taps your shoulder.

“would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

you’re shocked at his question and, truthfully, your first instinct is to decline. he must sense your apprehension because he starts to backpedal on his question.

“if you have plans, or just don’t want to, i understand.”

“no… i would be happy to have dinner with you.”

“great. we can go down to my car if you’d like.”

“sure.” you say with a smile. as you follow behind him back to the elevator to go to the ground floor, you feel yourself blushing.

the two of you make it to the lobby and you realize how rarely you actually see this part of the offices, with your daily routine utilizing the parking garage every day since you started working here. bruce’s car is brought around front and he opens the passenger door for you to get in.

you make small talk as you drive to his home. you talk about work, how exciting the project is. you talk about the weather, how it’s nice that the ice is clearing. it’s a pleasant drive with bruce at the wheel. when you get to his home, bruce comes around and opens the car door for you again and you head up the steps to his front door. you enter into his insanely large home and are in awe of how just one person can inhabit so much space.

“good evening, master bruce. dinner is almost ready.” an older gentleman greets you two as you enter.

“this is alfred,” bruce introduces him. “he takes care of a some things around here.”

“i take care of everything around here. pleasure to meet you.” alfred offers a hand to shake.

“the pleasure is all mine, alfred.” you say with a chuckle.

“we can wait in the living room. i’ll start a fire.” bruce says.

alfred makes his way to the kitchen as you follow bruce to what you assume is one of multiple living rooms in the house. he puts some logs in and starts a fire in the almost-comically large fireplace then sits down next to you on the sofa.

“dinner smells delicious.” you say, filling the air with light conversation to accompany the crackle of the fire.

“alfred is an amazing cook. i’ve tried to learn from him but i suppose it just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

“i never really learned either. my mother was a great cook too. i wish she had been able to teach me… she passed when i was very young. that’s actually one of the few things i remember about her, her cooking.”

you don’t know why you suddenly started talking about your mother. it’s not exactly light fireside conversation.

“i’m sorry…” bruce says quietly.

“it’s okay. it was a long time ago, and my father and i were able to grow a lot closer over the years.”

“are you and your father still close?”

“he.. actually is gone too. he died of cancer a few years ago. losing my mother was hard, of course. but losing my dad… he was all i knew for so long. all we had was each other.” you start to feel yourself welling up, and you realize you’ve never talked about this with anyone else before.

bruce sits there quietly, and you try to fight the tears but when one falls, the others follow suit.

“i’m sorry…” you start as you try to wipe them away.

“don’t be.” bruce says quietly as he gently wipes a tear off your cheek. he lets his hand stay there, his thumb resting gently on your cheekbone.

you lock your eyes with his and just as you start to get your tears under control, bruce leans in and lightly kisses you. and though you know he’s your boss and you know it’s unprofessional… you don’t stop him. instead, you look at him, and then lean in yourself and kiss him back, stronger. the light of the fire casts dancing shadows across the two of you as you fall into each other on the ornate sofa. dinner has left your mind, work has left your mind, everything has left your mind. everything but him.

you continue kissing, passion growing more and more as the fire grows too. he’s unbuttoning your shirt and you’re taking off his jacket. shoes are kicked off and before it continues, he’s scooping you up with his arms under your knees and around your shoulders, carrying you up the stairs to what you assume is his bedroom. he opens the door and not-so gently puts you on the bed. he finishes undressing himself and then starts taking your clothes off too. he slides your pants down and off your legs and lifts your shirt off, leaving your arms laying above your head. you feel vulnerable, yet when he gets on top, you somehow also feel safe, it just all feels so right. this intensity, this passion, this craving you have for each other is more than you bargained for but also, somehow, everything you ever wanted.

you finish, bruce quick to follow. you only now start to think about how loud you must have been. you both lay there, catching your breath, sweating, and realize how fast the time has gone by. you’ve definitely missed dinner.

bruce finds you an oversized t-shirt and a pair of his boxers for you to wear. he finds a shirt for himself and slips a pair of sweatpants on. you and him make it back downstairs to find that alfred has stored your dinner in the fridge and left instructions on how to properly heat it up. you and bruce laugh at each other for not knowing how to work the stove as you stumble through alfred’s pointers, but you both finally manage to reheat the meal and go back to the living room to eat. with the fire burning its last embers, you and bruce eat your dinner under the low orange light by the fireplace. you talk about nothing yet about everything as you enjoy the delicious late-night dinner. bruce takes your plate to the kitchen and washes the dishes as you bask in the final warmth of the fire.

“i may not be able to cook,” bruce starts as he makes his way back to you. “but i at least know how to clean up after myself. alfred left another note saying to leave the dishes to him, but i figured i’d save him a few extra minutes.”

“how very kind of you.” you say, teasingly.

“well, i am extremely generous.” he says with a sarcastic tone.

you laugh and when he sits back down next to you, you pull him in and kiss him. he cradles your jaw in his palm and kisses you back, his thumb gently rubbing your temple. he pulls away and kisses your forehead. exhaustion gets the better of you and you yawn.

“you tired?” he says smiling.

“no, of course not. i’m as awake as ever, i could run a marathon.” if your sarcastic tone didn’t make it clear you were indeed tired, the second yawn surely did.

he chuckles and stands, taking your hand in his as he leads you back upstairs.

“i have a guest room if you want it, right there down the hall.” he says, pointing ahead.

you look down the hall then back up at him.

“or…”

he chuckles lightly and grabs your hand again, taking you back into his room. you get under the covers with him and he lays down on his back as you curl up next to him, resting your arm across his stomach and your head on his chest. his steady heartbeat and his gentle stroking of your arm lulls you quickly to sleep. as you lay there, seduced into a deep slumber by the warmth and comfort, you dream only of bruce.

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