#at least I managed to stick with something

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 ꕥ MAX VERSTAPPEN

summary. celebrating max’s 4th title was not in your plans.

warnings. piastri!reader, max is kinda obsessed with reader, public s3x (?), unprotected pinv, fingering, just straight up dirty.

gabri speaks! i’ve been thinking about mexico gp max and las vegas sealed the deal for me.

THERE’S A BRIEF moment of silence, of anticipation, and of complete confusion. The DJ had paused the setlist less than an hour in announcing there was a special guest appearance. Then as if on cue tonight’s race is plastered on the giant screen behind him and the words, “Max Verstappen,” echo throughout the nightclub. You resist the urge to roll your eyes knowing someone might be recording you, or your brother at least.

“I thought he was flying back?” You cover your mouth with your hand as you talk with your brother.

“I thought so too.” Your brother hums in your ear trying to hide his annoyed tone. Your brother got along with Max just fine but all he wanted was one night without F1 getting mentioned.

You on the other hand…

You’d only been in the paddock a handful of times but every race weekend you had managed to have the worst encounter with the dutch man. The first time had been incidentally, you faintly recall the energy drink splashing all over your new dress. You knew from the get go that it had been an accident but when Max didn’t as so much as a muster a quick sorry and instead went on his way you had no choice but to hate him.

“He’s such a dick.” You murmur to yourself unaware your brother catches your words.

“Be nice.” Oscar motions towards the countless people recording him.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” You sigh.

The music resumes and you find yourself into a crowd of dancing couples. Your short orange dress sticks to you as you walk towards the bar. It’d been a long night with your brother not getting the result he hoped for. The post race recap inside the garage had been brutal as well. You had watched as the championship slipped from Lando’s hands and Max claimed victory once again. It had been the worst two hours of your life to say the least. You’re way too frustrated to even notice the man approaching you. In a split second you’re covered in something that smelled similar to…

“Asshole.” You mumble.

“Mini Piastri?” He gasps dramatically. “Why are you here? I wouldn’t think you’d be celebrating after tonight.”

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” You scoff. “Does it Max?”

“I’d argue that it does actually. Considering your mood, you’d be happier if your little boyfriend had actually managed to have a good race.” He taunts you.

“Look, can you get out of my way? I have to go clean up the mess you made.” You point towards the huge spots of alcohol on your dress.

You don’t even wait for him to respond before pushing past him, brushing shoulders in the process, to head straight to the bathroom. You do your best to dodge those who already have had a bit too much to drink, unaware that the dutchman is right behind you. It’s not until you’re opening the door and notice it takes a minute too long to close that you turn around and spot him. His white dress shirt is already half unbuttoned while his hair is a mess. You stare at him incredulously as he leaned against the sink.

“Max, you can’t be in here.” You state bluntly.

“I don’t recall you telling Lando to piss off when he followed you into the bathroom in Austin.” He counters.

“How do- What?” You’re taken aback by his words. How did he know?

He ignores your question choosing to walk towards you instead. You’re now face to face with the man that had taken away your team’s championship. His eye bags are dark and you can tell it’s been a while since he’s gotten a good needed break. His tousled hair falls perfectly on his head and by the way his arms flex you can tell he’s been putting extra effort into them at the gym. All of a sudden you’re nervous to be under his glare.

“Does your brother know what you and Lando do in secret?” He questions.

“You should leave.” You try to sound confident but your faltering voice exposes you.

Max just smirks at your words knowing he was getting under your skin. He still recalls the first time he ran into you, when he spilled half a can of red bull on you. He doesn’t know why he didn’t apologize but when he saw the anger in your face he realized why. You had looked so beautiful that day with the short orange sundress that did nothing to hide your cleavage. He still remembers the disappointment he felt when he saw you and Lando walk out of the restroom all disheveled. So, when he beat Lando tonight he felt absolutely no remorse.

His lips ghost yours for what feels like an eternity. You’re frozen in place wondering how his lips would taste against yours. Maybe it was the alcohol or the way his arms flex around you but suddenly you needed to know what he felt like. His arm tentatively grazes yours as it sneaks down to your knees. A gasp finds itself leaving your lips as your legs spread open instinctively. He wants to make fun of you, of the way you melt under him so easily, but he knows better. He can’t risk ruining the moment. It’s when Max inches his fingers closer to your thighs that you suddenly realize what’s happening. In a matter of seconds you push him off you and head out the door.

You’re barely four steps out when Max yanks you back and you hit his built chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate and grabs your jaw pulling your face towards his. Your lips meet in a heated kiss as his arms find their way around your waist. This time you’re the one that moves his hands from your wait to your ass. The confidence was beginning to build up and soon enough you’re tugging on his hair as his tongue enters your mouth.

“Max…” You moan and somehow it becomes the indicator that you want this. That you want him.

He pushes you flat against the cold brick of the hallway, the dimmed lights helping hide your bodies from the crowd. You’re lucky he holds you up because your legs feel like jello and if he lets go you might lose your balance. His hands roam your waist, back, and neck before he moves your hair out of the way. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses around your neck as his hands work their way down to your legs. They slowly glide up until he’s playing with the hem of your short dress. You can already feel his growing erection press against your ass.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He groans against your ear.

You really want to tell him to fuck off but your body reacts differently. You’re shocked when instead of telling him to call it a night all you murmur is keep going. In a matter of seconds your dress is being pulled up towards your waist. You can’t help the whine that escapes your lips as he rubs your aching core through your panties.

“So wet already.” He groans. “For me or Lando?”

“Shut up.” You still find it in you to annoy him.

To your surprise he doesn’t hit you with another remark. Max had been an asshole to you long enough. Now, that you were in front of him practically falling apart he didn’t want to ruin the moment. There’s a brief moment of silence before his hand carefully moves your panties to the side exposing your core to the cool breeze. Your legs spread instinctively as his fingers tempt your folds. His fingers collect your slick as he explores you, the wet sound making him groan against you. Slowly, he brings one of his fingers to your hole entering it carefully.

“Fuck.” He moans against your ear as your cunt wraps tightly around his finger.

“Ma- Max. So close.” You’re barely able to say.

You let out a loud whine as he curls his finger inside of you leading to your climax. You come around his fingers as you coat them with your wetness. His fingers slowly move toward your mouth and you don’t hesitate as you take them into your mouth, tasting yourself. He almost comes undone as you lick his fingers seductively. Aggressively he grabs your jaw and kisses you. He groans as he tastes you.

You feel the tip of him first as he runs it up and down your folds teasing you. Your hands are weak against the wall as his tip approaches your aching hole. He enters you slowly, holding you tightly in the process. He stops halfway through not wanting to hurt you but when he hears your dirty moans he continues. Your nails dig tightly into his arms as he fills you up completely. He’s quite big and the new sensation has you spiraling trying your best to not fall against him. He takes advantage of your weakness and attacks your neck again making sure to leave love bites around your collarbone.

“Fuck, Max. You’re so big.” You whine without thinking.

You feel his dick twitch inside you at that. Your voice has him in a trance as he tries his best to not just start thrusting inside of you. It’s not until you start pushing your ass against him that he almost pulls out fully before thrusting back into you. His hands grip your ass tightly—surely leaving marks for tomorrow—as your cunt squeezes him. He’s never felt such a thrill, at least since Abu Dhabi, you were your own feeling. He couldn’t believe you had finally opened up to him in many ways you were way better than winning another trophy. Many curses escape your lips as he finds the perfect pace inside of you.

He manages to bend you over leading to the perfect position and somehow he’s even deeper inside of you. He grips your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he speeds up inside of you. His hand trails back to your cunt and slowly he starts playing with your folds. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your folds is intense and you find a camisole feeling in your stomach approach you. You squeeze him tightly as his dick hits the right spot and you find yourself coming undone. You’ve never had an orgasm so intense in your life you don’t even notice how you coat his dick with your wetness.

Max isn’t far behind and speeds up at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him tightly. Your nails dig behind you at the overstimulation and stretch of his cock. Max hisses at the sensation finding it the tipping point. It’s not long before you feel his dick twitch inside of you and in a matter of seconds you feel him spill his seed inside of you. He grunts as he empties himself and as he pulls out. He pulls you up adjusting your dress in the process.

You bite your lip as he zips up his pants. The aftermath of your little rendezvous is different. Usually with others you don’t stay long enough to watch them dress themselves. But then you notice Max struggling with the buttons on his dress shirt and you find your hands on his chest again. You only button half of the shirt before stepping back. Neither of you say a word but the silence manages to speak for you both. You decide it’s time to go back but before you can take a step Max pulls you in for a final kiss before he leaves.

You’re barely able to walk back towards the VIP lounge and stumble multiple times in the process. You try your best to brush your hair down and fix your dress as you come closer to your brother’s booth. You sit down carefully unaware your brother is staring at you wide eyed and wondering why it took you almost an hour to get a drink. You shift awkwardly in your seat as Lily begins telling you both about her mixup at the airport. You turn around briefly as she goes into detail when you notice Max walking past your table. You keep your composure not wanting to expose your actions of the night but you should’ve known better. Oscar almost bursts out laughing at Max’s completely unbuttoned shirt.

“Lando’s gonna be pissed.” Your brother smirks.

“How do-” Did everyone know? “Oh, fuck off.”

The night progresses with your brother ordering countless bottles of Dom Pérignon. It’s almost five in the morning when Max takes the stage again with the DJ playing a remix of Super Max. As if on cue someone hands him a bottle of champagne and it doesn’t take long for him to start spraying it amongst those on the dance floor. You watch attentively as his chest shows the marks you left completely unaware of how your phone buzzes for the hundredth time that night.

9 missed calls from Lan

Lan: Tonight was shit.

Lan: Come over?

[revelboo]

Gah, the swindle fic was so, so good!!! I feel so bad for saying it, but I was talkin’ about Swerve, the lil dork that runs the bar in Lost Light!!! I’m so sorry!!! 😭

This little bozo!!! :)

Yes, you were xD I was working on the next Scavengers when I saw it and my brain just went: Swindle. Ignore me, it’s cold and I’m struggling

Lose Control

IDW Swerve x Reader

• Placing a clean glass back where it goes, Swerve surveys his kingdom. Aside from Trailbreaker sprawled across the bar top making a low rumbling sound as he recharges, the bar is empty and quiet. It’s something he never thought he’d have, a space to call his own. Where he’s in charge and listened to. “Third last call, big guy,” he says, reaching out to nudge Trailbreaker with a servo. “You know you can’t keep sleeping in here.” Mostly because when he wakes up, he’ll start drinking again and he can’t open if Breaker drinks all the inventory. Again.

• “Seriously? Don’t make me drag you,” he groans, knowing it’s an empty threat. Trailbreaker is as big as two of him and then some. There’s no budging him short of going and asking Magnus for help. And listening to the complaints about his bar and Magnus’s love language- rule violations. No, he’d rather take his chances with one very over energized mech. Which means babysitting all night to protect the bar. Frag.

• After kicking Trailbreaker’s stool again, he wanders around the bar. Bored and tired. “I don’t care if you’re my best customer,” he mutters, dragging a table slightly away from a wall. And there’s a sharp cry and a tiny shape darting from the shadows. Somehow that manages to wake up Breaker. Everything seems to slow as he sees the small form running alongside the bottom of the bar, sees Breaker shift and slide out of his stool, a ped coming down. And he’s running, diving with his hands outstretched. Feels that soft body hit his palms as Breaker steps on him instead and comes down on him.

• Flung off balance, you roll end over end and go sliding. Realizing that the big monster had almost stepped on you without even noticing and the smaller one had pushed you out of the way to take the brunt of the impact himself. Your confused brain is screaming at you to run, but as your rescuer groans, you can’t. “What happened?” The bigger one complains as the red one hits him, flailing to get free.

• “You’re crushing me,” Swerve snarls, venting raggedly as he gets loose, head turning to find the human still there, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tensed to bolt, but waiting instead. “Hey, tiny.” Wiggling his fingers at you only makes you back up a step, expression uncertain. “I wouldn’t run. I at least see you,” he tries, as Trailbreaker gets to his feet and staggers away, gawking. Of course he’d heard the rumors of Brainstorm’s screwup, but the machine was destroyed. Right? And you glance from him to Breaker and back, and take a tentative step forward. A human that shouldn’t be here, doesn’t belong. Too small to survive, and he gets being smaller than every other bot except maybe Tailgate. He’s short, but you can be stepped on. “Little things need to stick together.”

Next

[goldfades]

can we talk about how joe would be with late-night baby feedings? like, imagine him in a hoodie, messy hair, pacing the living room with the baby asleep on his chest because he told reader she deserved at least one good night of sleep. i feel like he’d quietly hum, maybe some soft old country song, and just melt into dad mode without even realizing it.

it’s been one of those weeks. the kind where the dishes pile up in the sink, the laundry never quite makes it to the dryer, and you’re running on caffeine and pure stubbornness. joe had been on the road, and while you’d managed to keep things together—barely—it had left you exhausted in every sense of the word.

so when he finally walked through the door that evening, suitcase in hand and a tired smile on his face, you’d nearly cried with relief. he’d kissed you once, twice, promised to take over for the night, and ushered you to bed before you could even argue.

but sleep didn’t come easy, not at first. you could still hear hayes’ fussing from down the hall, the kind of restless, overtired cries that always seemed to tug at your heart no matter how drained you were. you almost got up more than once, but every time, you reminded yourself of joe’s words: “just one good night of sleep, baby. you’ve earned it.”

eventually, exhaustion won out, and you drifted off.

when you woke again, the house was quiet, save for the faintest hum of something coming from downstairs. groggy and curious, you slipped out of bed, padding toward the soft glow of the living room light.

there he was.

joe, in one of his old hoodies—worn and a little too big, the strings uneven—pacing the room with hayes cradled against his chest. his hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and there were dark circles under his eyes that told you he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but there was something so soft about the way he moved, his steps slow and rhythmic, his hand gently patting hayes’ back.

he was humming, so low you almost missed it, a soft, familiar tune you recognized as one of the old country songs his mom used to play. the kind of song that wrapped around you like a warm blanket, all nostalgia and comfort.

hayes was tucked snugly into joe’s chest, one tiny hand clutching the fabric of his hoodie, his face turned toward the sound of joe’s voice. his cries had quieted, replaced by the steady rise and fall of his breaths, and he looked so small, so peaceful, in joe’s arms.

you leaned against the doorframe, your heart twisting in that way it always did when you saw joe like this—so effortlessly tender, so completely dad without even realizing it.

he must’ve felt your gaze because he glanced up, his humming stopping as his eyes met yours. a sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“you didn’t,” you replied, stepping into the room. “i just... missed you.”

his smile softened, and he shifted hayes slightly so he could reach out, tugging you closer until your head rested against his shoulder.

“he was a little fussy,” joe said quietly, his chin brushing the top of your head. “figured you could use the rest. been holding down the fort long enough.”

you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in—the faint scent of his cologne mixed with baby lotion and something distinctly joe.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his hoodie.

he huffed a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “nah,” he said, glancing down at hayes, who let out a tiny, contented sigh in his sleep. “he’s the amazing one. i’m just... lucky.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hand resting over his on hayes’ back. “we’re all lucky,” you said softly, and the way his eyes met yours—so full of love, so full of everything—made you believe it more than ever.

masterlist! thank you for reading <3

[carame1bunny]

‎ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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The beginning of something, yay! I really hope you like it and I’ll try to write as fast as I can. I want the chapters to be way longer, so I’m going to try working on it! Enjoy! xx Bunny

warning: none, maybe Alastor being a cocky bitch:)

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Alastor didn’t even know how he ended up here. Sitting in his car and driving to the loveliest jazz bar in New Orleans, The Red Magnolia, his favorite. Rosie, an old and dear friend of his, has recommended him to a manager, even though he didn't ask for it. He wasn’t interested in making any deals, but went to the “meeting” for her sake.

He knew he had a way with people, so he could have easily succeeded in business, however, his heart was always set on radio. Even when he was a little kid, putting on a show for his mother and pretending to be a radio host, his microphone consisted of a stick and a rock stuck to it with a few layers of cheap tape. Well, he was a real one now— the best one in all of Louisiana at that. Yet, it was sometimes good to make some investments and add to his wealth. After all, money opened doors charisma alone could not.

The humid air carried the familiar scent of lingering perfumes and magnolias, it was spring after all. There was no spring in New Orleans without magnolias. The distant hum of the city was mingling with the sound of his engine.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes began recognizing the area around the bar. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the chatter of late-night revelers grew louder. It was busier than usual, which made him frown. He hoped that it wouldn’t get too popular, he didn’t need people recognizing him left and right whenever he came here. It was lovely to speak to his listeners and hear them praise his hard work, but not when he came here to have one or two glasses of rye and look for his next victim. That, he preferred to do in peace.

He parked his car and made his way in through the back room. The young woman cleaning in the back immediately perked up and went to stand in front of him.

“W-welcome, Mr.Leblanc!” She stood rigidly, clutching her cleaning cloth like a lifeline. He towered over the girl, who was obviously very flustered by it. He smiled smugly, pleased when he was able to make the ladies blush and stammer. And he loved when men were nervous around him, afraid of his words that could shatter their fragile little egos.

“Mr.Devereux is waiting for you in his office.” She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. “Shall I lead you the way?” She looked up at him. She was pouting her lips, trying to make them look plushier, and tried to open her eyes up wider. It was pathetic.

“Thank you, buttercup.” He flashed a grin, and stepped aside to go up the stairs. The somewhat little bar had a decoration that was just perfectly his taste— dark red, black and gold. The warm, flickering glow of candlelight danced against the rich walls, giving the place an intimate, almost theatrical ambiance. The jazz band’s music filtered through the floor, it made him smile. Jazz had always brought him comfort, and it was his Mama’s favorite. He paused for a moment on the landing, letting the smooth rhythm of the music fill his senses. The black door of Mr.Devereux’s office taunted him, he reminded himself that he won’t let Rosie talk him into any more crap.

After a quick composing of himself, he knocked and stepped in slowly. Mr.Devereux was a short little man well into his forties; his head was balding and his body rounding. He kinda reminded Alastor of a garden gnome. He stood up fastly, nearly stumbling over his own feet, at least he wouldn’t have a big fall.

“Mr.LeBla—”

“Just Alastor.”

“Alastor, in that case… Just call me Rob, I’m very pleased that you were able to make it!” He shook his hand with the little man and smiled tightly when he felt the man’s sweaty palm. It made sense, he was awfully nervous, and could barely look Alastor in the eye. He recognized this kind of nervousness in men. Sweaty palms, red faces and the constant furrow of their brows, it was the matter of money. “Brandy?” Rob offered, his own glass already filled to the rim. He mumbled a ‘sure’, and sat down on the chair that sat before Rob’s desk. Once delivered, he sipped at his brandy and hummed at the burn in his throat.

Once he fell back in his seat, Rob spoke. “I was glad when Rosie told me your name, after I burdened her with my troubles.” He chuckled, his chubby fingers massaging his most likely aching temples. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase, because it’s awfully urgent.” Great, Alastor thought, let’s get this over with.

“There’s this lady…Y/N Valmont. We have gotten her half a year ago. Her face is real pretty, voice like a siren. However, we cannot afford to keep her. Even though people adore her, the bars pay way less for her time.” He swallowed his brandy in one go and continued as soon as the liquor went down. “Mostly because she's a woman, and because she’s unmarried, they expect her to… how can I say this nicely? Do you understand?

Alastor was at a loss, he had no idea what this had to do with him and why “No, Mr.Devereux, I don’t know what you mean. Care to explain?” He had an idea what the proposition was, but he wanted to hear it from Rob’s mouth.

“They expect her to whore herself out, kiss the ass of the male audience. And obviously, she refuses to, stubborn little lady she is, but she can be real sweet when she wants to b—“ Al silenced him by putting a hand up. The other man immediately retorted back into his chair and straightened his back.

Now he spoke what he had on my mind the whole time since he stepped in the Red Magnolia. “What does this have to do with me? I am nothing, but a radio host.” Being humble was always a safe way to go in his opinion.

“Alastor, you have power, you are heard by all of New Orleans. And I have heard that take part in investments from time to time, she could be your greatest investment.” He was stumbling over his words, a new layer of sweat formed on his reddish face.

“If she says she doesn’t want to be courted around, then what would change if I “bought” her from you?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. There was a somewhat awkward silence in the office, the only thing that was heard was the jazz sneaking up and through the floorboards. He could also nearly hear the gears turning in the other man’s head, he was really thinking hard about how to say his next few words.

“Well, people will eventually know that you’re her sponsor and gossip will come around. They will assume you’re courting her and that’s it. No one will expect her to whore herself around. All you have to do is sponsor her, pay for her numbers, her dresses and everything that helps her doll up. I would say… 80 percent, and we will pay the rest. We will manage her, and you just pay.”

He was confused, and just a tad angry. “Then what?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips were stuck in a grin.

“Then, once people accept that she does fool around with a man, especially New Orleans’ beloved radio host, they pay her and us properly, at least we hope so.”

They talked about details, and he thought… Fuck it. It wasn’t a lot of money, at least to him. Even if the plan failed, he would get the money back from the Red Magnolia, and it would bring him more attention.

“So, when can we expect you to decide?”

Alastor chuckled and offered his hand. “I’m in.” He never did anything like this, never acted so spontaneous, he always thought things like this through. But, a good deal is a good deal.

They shook hands, and while Mr.Devereux was working out the paperwork, Alastor decided to head down to the bar. The bar had three floors, the ground floor, where the stage was, around it the dancefloor along with tables with their seats, and of course the counter in the corner. The second and third floor were only balconies, the second had even more tables and sofas, it was more of a section where the guests could talk. The third was only used for the offices, no guests were allowed up there, there was barely any lighting even, only some oil lamps on the walls. The band was playing a soft tune, and people were dancing. His eyes got stuck on a couple. A girl with reddish hair and adorable freckles was resting her arms on the shoulders of, most-likely, her lover, a man with black curly hair. He recognized the lady, she sometimes played the piano right here in this very bar, her long and toned fingers telling the truth of her life’s passion. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the way they were looking into one another’s eyes, their sparkling gazes and soft grins told him everything he had to know. His eyes suddenly picked up a glint on the girl’s finger, a diamond ring. Now that he was looking at the young woman, he could see it. The very bottom of her abdomen was rounding up, her hips softer than usual and a light glow adorning her face.

In moments like this he wished he lived a normal life, a life where he could have fallen in love with a girl, marry her and eventually have a little one of his own. Maybe that way… he could have made his Ma prouder of him. However, he quickly snapped out of it. He didn’t care about all that, no woman could compete with the love he had for radio and the thrill of taking a human life. He wasn’t meant to settle down, or have a child, no.

He looked at everyone’s faces, but no one could see him, he couldn’t blame them, even he himself was struggling to see up there. However, as his eyes roamed around, they caught another pair. He felt his chest tighten for a second, his gaze caught another. Sleek updo and a pink dress. A young woman, who was sipping her cocktail and ignoring the seemingly cocky guy talking to her. She had the sweetest face he ever saw, shy smile and big doe eyes.

Suddenly, Mr.Devereux came up beside him, putting the papers in front of him. He was forced to rip his eyes away from her, so he could read through the contract. It took him quite some minutes to finish reading, he could feel her eyes still lingering on him. While he didn’t date, he enjoyed being around the ladies, they were either his dearest friends or his toys. Maybe this new little skylark could be useful to entertain him, until he gets bored, of course. Once finished, he saw how everything was written as they agreed on.

“So, are you satisfied?” Mr.Devereux asked, motioning to the contract. Alastor got his pen out of his breast pocket and just before making it official, he flashed his eyes again to the girl, who was just zoning out while wrapping her lips around a cigarette. Yes, a new toy is just what he needs. He spoke once he signed every paper.

“You’re damn right I am, Robert.”

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taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o1 @kimmis-stuff @qu1cks1lversb1tch @chibistar45 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @redfoxwritesstuff @fries11 @certifiedcrybabyyy @sirens-and-moonflowers @rapturenyx @visara-valentina

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ ILLUMI WHO FUCKS YOU BEHIND HIS PARENTS BACK .ᐟ

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ just a little blurb, maybe I could circle back and expand in the future? this is kind of all over the place, but i love illumi and this my first hxh work! ༝ ᭝ ༝

The rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall steals your attention, the murmuring chatter of the other three people in the room muffling as you zone out. It’s mindless, the way your fingers trace over the dark mark sticking out against the conference table like a neon sign. The rich mahogany is smooth, not a splinter in sight.

Your chair creaks when you shift your weight, eyes rolling in annoyance when your foot tingles with pins and needles, the appendage forcing itself awake.

For how rich they are, you’d think the Zoldycks could afford comfortable seats at the very least.

A much larger hand covers your own, halting your repetitive tracing, and you shift your head to the left to be met with your father’s firm gaze, his mouth set in a line. You glance across the table to Silva’s serious expression, then to Illumi’s blank one.

You lock eyes with the younger Zoldyck and something hot jolts in your belly, a deep ache settling between your legs. You linger a bit too long before returning your focus to your Father, who removes his hand from yours. You clear your throat, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Yes, father?”

He raises an eyebrow, somewhat amused but hiding it well. “Did you hear anything that was discussed?”

Heat crawls up the back of your neck and into your cheeks, but you manage to keep your features neutral. “No, I’m sorry Father.”

“Silva and I have agreed to allow you to work with Illumi on this mission. We feel it’s best to have you both there,” your Father explains, gesturing towards Illumi. You blink twice, spine straightening, and your pride refuses to let you peak at Illumi and gauge his reaction. You know it’s non existent.

You hesitate, then nod. “I understand Father,” you assure. You turn to Silva with your chin raised. “I’ll be an asset to this mission. I won’t hinder Illumi.”

The soft rustle of Illumi shifting, like he can’t sit still, does not go unnoticed by you.

Silva looks as pleased as he’s capable of and dips his head in acknowledgment. “See to it that you are. Illumi does not fail, and if this mission falls apart, you’ll be the one who is punished.”

“She will not fail,” your Father interrupts, tone sharp at the edges. “She is just as capable as Illumi.”

Your Father and Silva stare each other down for a few tense seconds before Silva concedes, nodding once.

“Very well.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Illumi, fuck,” you moan, tightening your fingers in his soft hair as your lids flutter. Your breath hitches when he sucks the sensitive skin of your inner knee between his lips, intent on leaving a dark hickey. “You know you’re gonna get in trouble if— oh god!” You squeak. Illumi’s teeth bite down harder in an effort to stop you from continuing your sentence. “If your Father finds out, Illumi.” You emphasize his name with a pointed yank to his hair.

Said man’s warm tongue suddenly sweeps up the crease between your pussy and thigh, causing your hips jerk in the direction of his mouth, eager for what comes next.

The dingy white walls and scratchy sheets of the motel bed do nothing to curb the warmth that’s running thick and honeyed in your veins.

Illumi settles fully on his belly, placing his thumbs on either side of your pussy and spreads you apart. He distracted for a split second by how slick he’s gotten you, running his thumb over your pussy before meeting your heavy lidded stare with a bored one. The only evidence of his arousal is the dark pink flush on his cheeks.

And his rock hard cock.

“Why are you concerned with that now?” He asks, tone somewhat annoyed. “You’re aware I’m not bothered by that.” Illumi’s tongue flicks your clit, determined to refocus on the drool worthy sight in front of him. “Don’t you want me to eat your pussy?”

You curse, drawing your knees up and let your thighs fall open as wide as they can. “You know that I do.”

“Then stop whining.”

Illumi’s skilled. He’s precise and to the point, especially when it involves getting you to cum on his tongue. Then he’s in your face, leaving a few inches to separate you as his hair surrounds you, shielding you both from the outside world. When it’s the two of you, the pressure to be perfect fades to background noise.

One hand plants itself by your head, the other gripping the base of his shaft to steady himself. The slick tip bumps your clit, a brief, bright pleasure sparking in your pelvis, and then he shifts down to press forward and slide home.

Your moan is simultaneous with Illumi’s. His jaw clenches tight, eyes pinching together before flashing back open.

“Move,” you command. The assassin, who’s never this compliant, drags his hips back halfway and pushes forward smoothly. The glide is so fucking slick, so fucking hot, and you loop your arms around his neck, tugging until his sweaty forehead lands on yours. The steady roll of his hips builds to a quick pace, the filthy smack of skin colliding filling the room.

Illumi won’t last long. Not after a mission like the one you’d had. It went well, but there was a tremendous amount of fighting, and the tense line of his shoulders shows how worked up he is. He starts to whine with every other breath, dark eyes intense and locked with yours.

Illumi grips one of your legs and shifts it until your knee hooks over his elbow, cock striking your g-spot with each pointed thrust. You cry out his name, pulling him as close as you can despite the awkward angle, and he starts to twitch inside you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers in a rush, breath hitching as he catches your lips in a kiss, all the emotion he struggles to voice shining through. He sucks on your lower lip and it’s over, pussy fluttering and squeezing Illumi until he makes a choked off sound, surging forward until his balls are snug to your ass. He cums with a broken moan, and you swallow the noise like you’re dying of thirst.

There’s little fanfare after, just a quiet moment where you hug him tight, prompting him to sneak his hands underneath your back to return the gesture. The embrace is sticky and sweaty, overheated.

Illumi places his forehead on your collarbone, brushes his lips over the swell of your breast and pants as he catches his breath. The knowledge that even someone as cool and collected as Illumi needs a moment to gather himself when he’s with you steadies your thundering heart.

“I couldn’t be bothered to care what my Father’s opinion is. At least, not when it comes to you.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Illumi’s quiet laugh is the best thing you’ve heard all night.

[stansthemans]

Yall my fem stan brain rot is so bad rn. I just looked at my wips. 78k for fem Stan. 4k for dude Stan. lol oops anyway here’s some more

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to ask, like she really is still a child. But Ford never denies her, even when he’s really busy with some project or studying for some exam. Stan knows how important those things are to him, and even though she thinks he needs to relax about it—he’s miles ahead of everyone else at school, even the teachers—she doesn’t want to drag him away from it unless one of them really needs it.

Today, it’s her.

Nothing has gone right today. She actually tried her own homework, like really tried, not just half assed it or copied Ford’s. Predictably, she beefed it, and her teacher actually took the time to call her out in front of the entire class. She tripped on the way to English class, bruising her knee and sending all her shit flying. She hadn’t been fast enough gathering it all up, and she got a tardy. One of her gloves busted at boxing practice, and she hasn’t yet had the guts to tell Pa because she knows he’s going to blow a gasket at having to buy a new one. Dinner was an icy affair. Shermie had apparently called and he and Pa got into it about something. Then, cleaning up the kitchen, Ma had taken out her frustration on Stan.

Stan is glad it wasn’t Pa. She’s always glad when it isn’t him and not just because hiding the bruises has recently gotten much harder. But it still doesn’t make it nice when Ma locks a sharp, critical gaze onto Stan and picks apart everything that’s wrong with her. Too loud and opinionated. How is she ever supposed to catch a man if she’s got the crazy idea that she’s allowed to think anyone cares to hear what she has to say? Not to mention her waistline. The extra dough in the middle—she had pinched Stan’s side here—that Stan certainly didn’t inherit from her. And still with the boxing? It really was high time to stop that brutish, unladylike nonsense.

As if she doesn’t know exactly why Stan needs to keep it up, needs the easy excuse to hide behind.

As soon as she’s able, Stan retreats to the bathroom. It takes a good couple of minutes for the water to heat up, so while she waits, Stan strips down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t vain, she doesn’t think. She doesn’t wear any makeup, doesn’t do much more to her hair than run a brush through the waves to manage any tangles. She doesn’t care about trendy clothes or the latest styles. A pair of jeans or shorts, depending on the season, a simple t-shirt, and some high tops. That suits her fine.

She isn’t stick skinny like her mother or a lot of girls at school. She isn’t fat either, not even really that chubby. She’s just kind of thicker. And she’s got muscles from boxing. Not much by way of hips.

How are these ever supposed to bear a child? Any nice boy at the temple, any potential mother-in-law worth their salt, they’ll be looking for that. Hips like these, bad figure elsewhere too. She doesn’t have the looks enough for any good husband to overlook all the other things wrong with her.

Stan steps under the stream of water, hoping that it’s warm enough to wash her mother’s words off her skin.

It isn’t. It never is.

Ford is deep into whatever assignment when she comes into their room, deep enough that he doesn’t look up and watch from the corner of his eye while she changes into pajamas. He’s been doing that for a really long time, but he’s been a little more obvious about it the past few months, and every time it sends a thrilling jolt down Stan’s spine. But he isn’t looking right now, and that makes her feel even worse, despite the fact that he doesn’t look every time and that he’s clearly fully immersed in his textbook.

Stan folds her arms over her stomach, leaning up against their dresser as she watches him. He isn’t hunched too badly, despite how into his work he is. She’s glad to see that at least. The way his spine will pop when he stretches out sometimes really isn’t right for a sixteen year old boy. He took a shower while she was still cleaning up after dinner, and his hair, much shorter than hers, looks so soft and puffy in its freshly cleaned state. His eyes are sharply focused on the textbook, even as his pen dances over his notebook in his neat, looping writing.

He’s so deep into his work, but Stan’s heart is aching too much to keep standing there or even to go curl up in her bunk alone. She steps over to the bookcase. Over the years it’s changed a lot. More and more space is taken up with Ford’s textbooks and scientific journals and less and less their treasures found while out exploring or their comics. Still, there is a small section of novels. Stan picks up one of the most worn down and shuffles over to the desk.

“Hey, Sixer,” she asks, and Ford hums in acknowledgment. “I know you’re real busy.”

“Yes,” Ford says, but not dismissively. “I’m writing that proposal to send in to the Rutgers field office. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, hugging the book to her chest. “Big deal if they take it, right? Maybe get this dump cleaned up some.”

“That’s the hope,” Ford says. “And it will make an excellent addition to my academic portfolio.”

“Yeah,” Stan says again. “Yeah, it’ll be real good.”

The pen stops moving on the paper, and Stan presses her lips together as Ford looks up. His eyes flash as he takes her in, and he opens his mouth. Stan can’t have him ask her what’s wrong because she just can’t, so quickly she blurts, “I know you’re busy but—“ And she shoves their battered old copy of The Hobbit in his direction.

Ford leans back in his seat, almost jumping a bit. She isn’t standing close enough that the book would have smacked him in the face, but it is a close thing. He blinks at it and then again up at her. Stan thinks she must cut a very pathetic figure, but she also doesn’t care in that moment.

Ford studies her with a furrowed brow for only a brief moment before he stands up. He takes the book with one hand and lightly touches her cheek with the other. “Sure,” he says. “I’m at a decent stopping point for the night.”

He absolutely isn’t. Stan wouldn’t understand anything about his proposal if she picked it up to read it, but she knows that he’s lying and going along with her, and she’s so grateful for that. Ford neatens up his work while Stan arranges the pillows and blankets on her bunk. He crawls in after her, and they find a comfortable way to lie tangled up together. Ford opens the book and begins to read aloud.

They both loved this book so much as kids. It wasn’t on the ocean, but it was fantastical adventures fill with daring fights and golden treasure. It was odd, out of place, little people who were still heroes in a big, big world. Sometimes, Stan would read too, picking a couple of the characters that she wanted to voice, often sillily to make Ford laugh. But usually, it would just be Ford reading, them lying together just like this, his voice low, breath ghosting over the top of her head.

It’s soothing. It is. The knots in Stan’s stomach are beginning to loosen, but she still feels heavy in an unpleasant way. As the party reaches Rivendell, Stan decides that she needs more than this, and she hopes Ford is willing to give it.

“Ford,” she asks, and he stops. Stan knows that he can tell she’s about to say something important. She really doesn’t use his name very often.

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Can you do me a favor,” she asks.

“Of course,” he says. “What do you need?”

Need. Because this isn’t a want. She needs this, or she thinks she might shake apart, and Ford doesn’t have to know any details to know that much.

Stan shifts against him just a bit, changes the way she’s lying against him just slightly. Then she reaches up for his hand that was scratching lightly at her scalp. She brings it down her body, under her shirt, and lies it over her breast. Despite being a bit bigger in her upper body, Stan really doesn’t have large breasts. Ford’s big hand covers it completely, and the feeling starts to unwind some of the tension that his voice couldn’t cut through.

Under her, Stan can feel his breath pick up a bit. They haven’t done this outside of her periods before. For the past several months, that’s been the excuse. Ford touching her like that is just him helping her through the very real discomfort of what that week puts her through. And if—when—they do other things, well, they’re hormonal teenagers. Hormones can be such crazy things, overwhelming sometimes. Overwhelming enough to forget the very important fact that they are siblings. Twins. And then when the cramps and aches are over, they go back to being normal.

This isn’t normal. This is outside of that very specific set of parameters where they have decided it’s ok for them to act in ways that they never should have even considered. But Ford’s hand is on her now, skin to skin, and it’s warm and it’s safe.

After a moment, Ford squeezes at her, something questioning, and Stan, her hand still over his, squeezes back and says lowly, “No. Just this.”

“You just want me to hold it,��� Ford asks, his voice just as low.

Stan nods. “I just—it’s comforting,” she says.

In a whisper, against her hair, Ford says, “I can feel your heart beating. More than usual.”

He doesn’t need to touch her to feel that, just like she doesn’t have to touch him. It’s always there, right alongside hers, has been for their entire lives. Two hearts beating side by side.

Ford sets the book down in his lap. He doesn’t take his hand away from her, doesn’t move it at all, but his other reaches for her cheek, turning her gently to face him. And then he does something that they also have not done outside of her periods. He brings his lips to hers. Stan sighs against him, lightly dragging her fingers over all six of his before curling around his wrist.

Ford pulls back just slightly. “Whatever Ma said, she was wrong,” he says, and Stan could cry, but his hand is resting directly over her heart, and it keeps her grounded. He kisses her again, a sweet, gentle thing, and then he picks up the book and resumes their reading. Stan melts into her brother, and his voice and touch drives away everything bad in the world.

[monayen]

awawawa tysm! (*/∀＼*) then i'll req smth for 17 yo randal w a fem reader! like he's been ignoring reader because he's too busy playing lol or being an asshole on reddit so reader tries to get his attention in other ways--- ( ￣▽￣)

x_thedarkprince_x | Randal Ivory (17ndal)

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory (17ndal) x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - oral (m. receiving) / blowjobs, pet play, he stink *_*

a/n - i forgot how much i love this freak... i was gonna write him stinkier but im sick with an eye infection and im 90% sure me writing him infected me somehow. also i have never played league but i do watch arcane and play val so i think that's good enough. 'pologies if i got anything wrong in that aspect (not really) also header is @/tapi_taro_ on twt !!

A rhythmic clicking echoed against the dark walls of Randal’s room. It was late — far too late for him to be hunched over his computer, his eyes fixed on the flickering characters on the screen.

He knew it too. Luther had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to be playing this late, even threatening to confiscate his expensive setup if he caught him awake again. Yet here he was, ignoring every warning.

Your legs dangled off the side of the coffin he should've been in hours ago with you, tired eyes flickering at the blue light of the screen. Or more importantly, Randal. 

His long orange hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions, unbrushed and greasy.  A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered curses under his breath, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the glow of the monitor. Far too engrossed to even blink.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. It had been days since Randal had given you more than a passing glance. A new season of LoL had started, and you were pretty sure his ass was permanently welded to his chair. The only times he left it were to use the bathroom or grab more soda. Has he even eaten?

Sleep was impossible with the constant noise. The rapid clack of his fingers on the keys, the drag of his mouse across the desk — it all kept you on edge. Even when you managed to drift off, there was always a sharp bang against the side of the table or a shout of some obscene curse, loud enough to snap you awake. And then, you’d have to fight to fall asleep all over again.

You huff in frustration, sitting up from where you’ve been laying against the coffin. “Randal?”

He doesn’t even flinch, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you, but the garbled voices from the game blasting through his headset make it clear that he just can't hear. 

You repeat yourself louder, and only then does he push one of his headphones aside, “What?” 

You make a face at his almost exasperated tone, his eyes still not moving towards you, “It's really late.”

He shrugs, lips pressing into a thin line as he shakes his head, barely glancing your way. “Yeah, well, I can’t pause. I’ll be there in a bit, sweetieee.” He drags out the last word with a teasing giggle before adjusting his headphones and continuing playing.

You stand up from the coffin, stretching your arms above your head. Your joints pop and crack, and you wince at the sudden movement. It's been a long day, and you're exhausted. But sleep isn’t going to happen unless he gets off the game.

You take a step towards him, your bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He's so focused on the game that he doesn't even notice you approaching. You lean over his shoulder, peering at the screen. 

He's losing, the game isn't even close. The string of chat logs of him and his teammates arguing in the corner catch your eye. You watch as Randal scowls, quickly typing something in chat. An IP address, but you’re pretty sure it's actually just a random string of numbers. 

Tilting your head, you ask, “Won't you get banned for that?”

Randal doesn't respond, too focused in the game to acknowledge you. You sigh again, a reaction would at least be nice. You're tired of being ignored, desperately wanting some type of attention, affection, anything to make you feel wanted. You're also just tired in general…

You place your hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. He tenses slightly at your touch, but doesn't pull away. You start to massage his shoulders, working out the knots that have formed from his terrible posture.

"Randal," you say softly, leaning down to whisper against his neck, even though he can't hear you, "You can play with something else…”

He shivers at your breath on his skin, but still doesn't turn to you. You huff, frustrated. 

You drop to your knees, crawling under the desk. You can see his feet, clad in mismatched socks, tapping impatiently on the floor. You reach up, running your hands up his calves, his thighs, until you reach his crotch. 

Taking a deep breath, you began to graze his crotch, him immediately shaking above you, "What are you – hey!" Randal finally noticed your actions, but he made no move to stop you as you continued to rub the fabric of his sweatpants. 

He lowers his headset, leaving them around his neck as he hunches over. “Bad girl! I’m literally about to derank!” 

You feel him stiffen under your touch. "Randal," you murmur again, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good."

Randal let out a shaky breath, his hips twitching forward. "I'm busy," he grumbled, but there was a note of desire behind his pitchy voice.

He makes a strangled noise when you squeeze, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. He looks down at you, his black eyes lidded. “Fuck… my elo." he breathes, his hips bucking into your palm.

You smile, satisfied that you finally have some of his attention. You tug down his bottoms, freeing his cock. It's hard and hot in your hand, pulsing with need. You swiftly wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

Randal groans, his fingers tightening on the mouse. He's still playing, well… attempting to at least. His eyes keep darting back down to you, hands shaking against his keyboard and mouse. 

His thighs tremble more once you begin sucking on the sensitive tip harder, his focus faltering to groan, “C’mon – you can go deeper than that pet,” One of his hands leaves the desk, moving to grip the back of your head.

He groans, hips bucking into your mouth as he pushes your head down, "You're gonna make me lose." It's almost a whine, like it's a genuine bother for you to be down on your knees for him. But he doesn't stop you. If anything, he's pushing you down further, encouraging you with soft, desperate sounds. You take him deeper, tongue swirling around the length of his cock.

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his shaft. He gasps, fingers tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, fuck," he chants, voice rising in pitch. His thighs tremble, muscles tensing under your hands.

His free hand still clicks around on the keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the not-surprising ridiculousness of Randal still trying to play the game despite his dick being down your throat. 

You pull off his length with a pop, tilting your head sweetly, "Come on, Randal," you tease, stroking him slowly. "Is the game really that important?"

Randal whines, head thudding back against the chair. With a giggle, he nudges your head back down onto his erection, "I just told these virgins I’m getting my dick sucked, kekeke.”

You bob your head, taking him deep, swallowing around him. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling sharply. “Hah, keep going pet.” he groans rocking his hips, fucking your face with shallow, needy thrusts. You double your efforts, sucking harder and taking him deeper in your mouth. 

"Fuck, fuck, swallow it–" he cuts off with a strangled cry, hips stuttering. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, his body tensing. A quick pulse follows before he's flooding your throat. Quickly, you gulp, swallowing his cum down and not letting it leak out your mouth. 

He pants, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, slumping down slightly on the chair. 

Randal moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek, his sharp teeth biting his lip, “Goooood pet.” 

Blushing at the praise, you finally crawl up when he moves his chair back, giving you space to get out from under the desk. “Are you sleepy now?” You ask, a cheeky smile on your face as you lean in closer to him. 

Randal lets out another strange giggle before leaning in to plant a quick, wet kiss on your lips.

“Gah, I can taste myself,” he grimaces, pulling back slightly. “Did I burn a hole in your stomach?”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head. “Randal.”

He catches the hint in your voice, finally giving in. With a dramatic sigh, he tucks his soft dick in and pushes up from his chair. “Turn off the monitor then, pretty please?”

You nod, watching as he scratches his ass before collapsing onto his coffin, immediately drifting off to sleep.

Turning to the monitor, you notice a bright red DEFEAT screen glaring back at you. Glancing at the chat, you see the last message a teammate sent before the game ended —

‘GGS report x_thedarkprince_x for throwing’

[prowling-muffin]

rip to my many wips from the past few weeks but when Jazz calls it cannot wait

[harukakitous]

"I'm the universe's number one troubleshooter. Fights, secrets, a dirty job? I'll clean it up from the up-and-up to the down-low."

[puppyeared]

Jitterbug

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[dredshirtroberts]

dry swallowing pills is my stupidest flex. i'm not even showing off anymore i'm just impatient

[my-current-obsession]

Taking a break from Rune Factory 4 Special to fantasize about a potential Rune Factory 5 Special. Which probably won’t happen, but I can dream. This is basically just a list of updates/changes/etc. that I would like to see.

- (re)incorporate a lot of the stuff found in datamining, like the ability to run a shop and the DLC love interests - Livia, Radea, & Terry. Whether those three remain DLC or are just added in as new options, I would LOVE to have them. I wouldn’t even care if I have to wait until post-game to properly romance one or both of the girls, since it would be worth it. I’d also like Misasagi to be a love interest but I just don’t think that’s feasible since she has a child already and the writers/developers won’t want to have to deal with you marrying & moving in with someone who already has a kid.

- Speaking of Hina, she and Julien ABSOLUTELY need to grow up some after you’ve had kids. Those two are like... somewhere around 7-11 initially, and there’s at least a three or four year timeskip after having a kid (plus ANOTHER timeskip after the twins). It’s REALLY jarring to see those two looking/acting barely older than your own kids when at minimum they’re seven(ish) years older. Ideally I’d like the “young adult” models/sprites (as in, all the marriage candidates basically) to get a bit older too but that’s less of an issue than the two kids who noticeably Don’t Age.

- Bring back the “reverse” proposals from RF4S. I understand giving the player the agency to choose when to propose, but having an event that ends with their love interest proposing is SO GOOD, and it’s not forcing you to accept, so you can still propose on your own terms later. And several love interests make it clear they WANTED to propose when you do it, so just... let them do it! I think ideally I’d want MOST of the guys (3-4?) and at least one or two girls to do this, while the others still leave the proposing to you. In all cases, they’d need either one more new event or tweaks/add-ons to their final event to flow more naturally into this.

- Make sure the game is actually optimized and performs well on the Switch this time. I’ve heard the PC version is much better, but I got the game when it first came out on Switch, and it’s... not great. Lots of lagging, random crashing and visual glitches... Fix all of that.

- I ASSUME this was an oversight and not intentional, but definitely fix the issue where if you date multiple people in one run and then get married the other love interest(s) still act(s) like you’re together. The pet names are dropped but the romantic dialogue is not. It was SO awkward when I talked to Martin like the day after I married Ryker and he contemplated whether Cecil would approve of “our” relationship. Well, considering I’m married now, and not to you, probably not!

- This is a little less important, but along a similar vein I’d like if the game actually noticed and slightly altered some events depending on who you were dating, or if that’s too difficult make an effort to NOT have “date” events feature multiple potential love interests. Once again, on my first date with Ryker, Martin strolled up and interrupted us which embarrassed Ryker SO MUCH he left. I was pretty embarrassed too, considering Martin then casually said “Sorry I interrupted your date, Love.” Ideally either change date events so other love interests DON’T casually appear, or go immersive and have them react DIFFERENTLY if they also happen to be dating you. There’s also a non-date event where you and a few others play the King’s Game but Ryker is rigging it to help Ludmilla flirt with you. Again, odd to see it when I’m dating him and NOT her.

- It would honestly be nice to set your sexuality/preferred love interest gender at the start of the game simply so you’re not bombarded with EVERYONE’s events and not getting hit on by everyone when you’re talking to them every day. This way you’re only given the events and flirting by the gender you want.

- Bring back dungeon seeds/field dungeons! That’s just a simple and fun way to spend a lot of your time and get random rewards.

- Include more random conversations between townspeople! Literally the only “group” conversations in 5 are between the 6 boys and 6 girls at festivals. Let two or three people meet up during the day and have conversations. I miss that from 4 so much, it really helps flesh out the town and how certain characters interact with each other.

- Newlywed Mode would be nice.

- Murakumo being the only person running the bathhouse often causes problems. Any time he’s NOT there, such as festival days or just when he’s eating lunch/dinner, you can’t take a bath even though the inn is technically open/available. He has an in-universe reason to work alone so you can’t give him a helper, but you COULD do something like leave a note at his desk that we can investigate which says how much to pay. Bado in RF4 had something like that for whenever he was slacking off. Basically, we need some way to access the bath even if Kumo isn’t doing his job.

EDIT - thought of one more! Give us a way to access the flower shop earlier. Having Ludmilla be the sole person running it when she doesn’t even join the town until halfway through the game is... A Choice. It is RIDICULOUS how late in the game this shop becomes available. I think you could have Priscilla run it initially, and just decide where Lucy works between the shop and the bakery. Then when Ludmilla joins and takes over, Priscilla takes the other open job.

[cave-monkey]

Favorite thing from the books that I bring up anytime I get the opportunity:

The mountain the Buddha dropped on Sun Wukong wasn't enough to actually contain him. The seal had to be added later because Sun Wukong was clawing his way out.

[whimsyprinx]

i think at this point I should just give up on relationships

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

Both wife and me got a change to our medication regimen last week.

Both of us are experiencing unpleasant side effects.

They're fairly harmless and they're not the same ones, so we can still constitute one fully functioning adult if we work together, but they're still unpleasant.