#but these two just had regular booths and no line and i got to stand and chat and talk about the art and AHAHHAHAHA

[midwinterhunt]

GUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYS

I BOUGHT A STICKER FROM BEN BISHOP AND GOT IT SIGNED FROM HIM AND ERIC HENSON!!!!!!!!!!!!

I GOT TO MEET THEM!!!!!

LAJSDKJJAMS<DNAJFEK

[its-time-to-write]

mine of you with me

Been busy this week bc my ex is getting married and I have to go to the wedding. His fiancée (wife?) asked me to be there and I love her, so I said yes, but I regret it big time. Requests are still open! I’m working on the requests in my inbox, but wrote this to get it out of my system. It goes with/happens before “three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life.” Anyway. Here ya go. mine of you with me

You love going to Jamie’s games. You love watching him play his heart out on the pitch. It’s fun, being in the stands and screaming for Richmond. You wear his jersey (his actual jersey, one that he owns) and deck yourself out in Richmond gear. You think your favorite part, however, is sneaking around.

You’re dating Jamie Tartt, star footballer, and no one knows.  

Today is a game against Crystal Palace. Jamie had left before you with a single “Bye babe,” and a kiss. 

After he leaves, you debate stealing one of his orange kits (they’re the most comfortable) but decide against it. Too obvious to be in a sea of red and blue. You settle for a regular “Bantr” shirt and head out the door to meet Keeley. 

Keeley and Rebecca were aware that you were with Jamie. Keeley, because Jamie swore you’d be best friends. Rebecca, because there was a ticket mixup and Keeley was busy so she sent Rebecca to the ticket booth to sort things out with “Jamie’s special guest,” which led Rebecca to be very surprised when she saw you instead of one of his family members. 

It made things easier, really, to show up on Nelson Road under the guise of seeing Rebecca and/or Keeley. Time passed and it became less of a guise. You really enjoyed their company, and having someone to talk to about Jamie. 

But here you are, back in the present, with Rebecca trying to convince you to sit in the box while Keeley threads blue, red, and gold through your hair. 

You just laugh and hug them goodbye, heading your separate ways. Them, up; you, down. 

You settle into your seat right up to the pitch, and wait for the game to begin. Jamie’s picked a seat that’s right where the teams line up, so you’ll get a good view of him before it starts. 

Shortly after, the teams begin to walk out onto the pitch. You look for Jamie and catch his eye. 

I like your hair, he mouths, pointing slightly to his own. 

Thanks, you reply with a small grin. 

Jamie gives you a look that says I’m going to be pulling it later so you return with one that means I was counting on it.

Is it bad that you two understand each others expressions that well?

No time to dwell on that, because the game’s beginning. 

—

Richmond’s done alright, they haven’t lost necessarily, but they did tie. You can feel the tension through the building as you weave your way through players and staff, carrying a stack of papers from Higgins to Rebecca. You’re almost to the stairs leading up to her office when someone crashes into you, sending papers flying. 

“I’m so sorry!” you say, “that is totally my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No it isn’t,” a voice replies indignantly. “He was walking backwards!”

Jamie mumbles, “Shut up, Isaac,” while bending down to help you shuffle your papers together. 

“Sorry about that,” he says softly. “Weren’t looking where I was goin’. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

He holds out his hand and you shake it, mentally commending his presence-of-mind to act like a stranger. “Nice to meet you, Jamie,” you reply. “I’m a friend of Rebecca’s.”

“He knows,” Colin pipes up, followed by an “Oi,” because Isaac smacked him. 

“I’ve uh, got to go,” you say. “See you around.”

“See ya,” the lads chorus, Jamie watching you and Colin and Isaac watching Jamie. 

Jamie turns around to see them grinning at him. 

“Oi, what,” he says, hands in the air. 

Isaac states, “You like her.”

Colin interjects, “Don’t even try to deny it, boyo, we saw how you looked at her. You think she’s fit.”

Jamie is sure he played it cooler than that. Maybe they just know him too well. 

He laughs it off all the way to the locker room, changes, showers, and waits for Dani to walk out the door. They leave in a group, him, Isaac, Dani, and Colin, and as they turn the corner past the boot room you appear with Rebecca.

“Ladies,” Dani grins. Dani has a bit of a crush on you. 

You and Rebecca smile back. 

“Oi,” says Isaac, “do you want to join us tonight at the club? Trying to forget our tie streak.”

You open your mouth to decline when Rebecca replies, “We’d love to. I’m assuming Keeley will be there as well?”

“Becca,” you hiss, “I can’t go the club tonight.”

“Whyever not?”

You blush slightly. “I was planning on spending the evening with my boyfriend.”

The boys share furtive looks amongst themselves and not-so-subtly poke Jamie.

Rebecca says, “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to join you at the club. It’s settled, we’ll be there,” with a smile to the lads. 

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to look at Jamie and to walk away with dignity. 

“Did you hear that, Jamie?” Isaac asks, “She’s got a boyfriend. Sorry, mate.”

Jamie shrugs and does his best to look disappointed. “Must be a lucky man,” he says. “Now can we please go? My hair’s a fuckin wreck.”

“Mine too,” Dani says with a sorrowful shake of his head. They boys laugh and head out the door. 

—

You’re at the club, standing at the bar with Rebecca. Jamie is there too, with the Richmond boys. Trent and Beard are there too, but Ted has opted to stay home. He’s not big into the club scene. Jamie’s sitting and laughing with the boys, but his eyes keep flicking over to you. Isaac notices and thumps him on the chest. 

“Oi. She’s got a boyfriend, remember?”

Jamie nods and tears his eyes away from you. 

“Dani, mate, you need a drink?” Jamie doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s out of his seat and headed over to the bar. Headed over to you. 

Colin rolls his eyes, Isaac shakes his head, and Dani shrugs. “I cannot say no to a free drink,” he says. 

Meanwhile, Jamie leans against the bar, holds up two fingers, then turns to you while waiting for his drinks. “Boyfriend didn’t show up?”

You grin and look around the room. “He’s here somewhere. We came separately. Not really sure where he’s gone off to.”

Jamie smiles back. “Not much of a boyfriend if he leaves someone as fuckin’ pretty as you at the bar all by herself.”

You shrug. “I’m with Rebecca. And he’s ok, I guess. When I find him, I’m going to tell him I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, and ask if he wants to meet at his place or mine.”

Jamie’s eyes become hungry. “His place. Definitely his. In fact, I think I just saw him slip out the door. D’you mind taking Dani his drink? You can have mine.”

You nod, unable to speak. Just a glint in his eye, and he’s become almost feral. You swear his teeth are pointier and your mouth goes dry.

Nice hair. I’m going to be pulling it later.

He’s gone before you can say anything else, and you have to press your hands to your face to cool down your cheeks.

Rebecca has been graciously pretending as though she can’t hear while scrolling on her phone. She looks up only when you grab Jamie’s drink, down it in a single gulp, and then pick up Dani’s.

She raises an eyebrow. “I take it I’m on my own for the rest of the night?”

You shake your head. “Isn’t Keeley here?”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Rebecca’s face. “Pretty sure she’s trying to take Roy home, so she is here in body but not so much in mind.”

You make what you hope is a neutral face. “Bec, you could get a man.”

She laughs. “Let’s get Dani his drink, shall we? I believe you’re leaving in twelve minutes.”

You set Dani’s drink down in front of him as Isaac asks, “Where’s your boyfriend? I thought he was supposed to be here.” 

You shrug for the second time that night. “He had to go. I think I’ll be leaving soon too.”

There’s a chorus of wolf-whistles and you blush, again.

“Where did Jamie go?” Sam asks. “Did you break his heart that badly when he was flirting with you?”

You shake your head. You can feel Rebecca, poised as ever, next to you. It’s taking all your composure to maintain a straight face. 

“I don’t- I’m not sure. He said something about training and sleep and I think he had to go? And I didn’t break his heart. He’s not into me.”

“Oh please,” Jan Maas speaks up, “His eyes follow you whenever you come to see Ms. Welton.”

You’re positive your face has caught on fire. “He just- he must- I don’t know. I have a boyfriend… He’s really great, and- I mean- I’ll talk to Jamie.”

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jan Maas shrugs. “It is just the facts.”

Sam puts his hand on your shoulder. “It is alright. We will take care of it. Jamie is the type of person who falls hard and fast, and sometimes he does not care if the other person is unavailable. He sees what he wants and just goes for it. It’s why he is such a good footballer.”

You smile. “Thanks, Sam. I should probably go.” You turn to Isaac and Colin. “Thanks for inviting me. I really did have a great time. And maybe next time you can actually meet my boyfriend.”

They wave, you poke Rebecca and glance at Sam, then head out, pretending you don’t see her panicked absolutely not face.

—

You text Jamie, I’m on my way, and he taps back with a heart.

Door’s unlocked he replies, and then you’re off.

He doesn’t live very far, so you’re at his house in no time at all. You can see a few dim lights on inside, so you walk up the steps and push the door open.

“Jamie?” you call, “I’m here!”

You hear his footsteps clamoring down the stairs and in a moment he’s on you, fingers threaded through your hair as you kiss. He’s pulling you close, impossibly close, then without warning he picks you up, bridal style. He’s still in his clothes from the club.

He kisses you all the way up the stairs, then places you on the edge of the bed.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, voice pitched low. “I fucking loved your hair.”

You shiver as he lifts your dress over your head and runs his knuckles along your sides. You note that the room is bathed in dim light, from candles Jamie has lit and placed around. There’s soft music playing somewhere and you’re honestly surprised he pulled this together in fifteen minutes. You look at him on his knees in front of you, one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt then settle for lifting it over his head. 

“God,” you say, “you’re beautiful.”

He smiles, eyes hungry again. He gently pushes you back down on the bed and climbs on top of you. “Pretty sure that’s my line, babe.”

—

You don’t really talk until you’re both laying under the sheets, hours later, arms wrapped around waists and shoulders and legs intertwined.

Jamie’s kissing a trail from your shoulder to your inner elbow when you whisper, “Babe.”

He hums softly. “Yeah?”

“Do you think- do you think you should tell the team about us?”

Jamie pulls back slightly so he can look into your eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”

You shrug as best you can between his arms. “I just think it would make things easier, you know? I mean, I still think sneaking around is sexy and all, but like- it’s just getting harder and harder around Nelson Road.”

Jamie kisses the tip of your nose. “Whatever you fucking want babe. I’d give you the keys to me house if you asked.”

You smile, then let yourself drift to sleep.

—

The next morning, Jamie makes his way to his locker and tapes up a new photo. He’s holding a girl in front of Big Ben, and they’re both laughing. It’s his favorite photo. Sam sneaks a look and then does a double take.

“Jamie,” he says, disbelief written on his face, “Is that Rebecca’s friend? When did you take that?”

There’s a clamor while the team crowds around Jamie’s locker, Jamie grinning smugly.

“She’s me girlfriend. Been dating for months now. Didn’t want her to be harassed by press and you lot, so we kept it a secret.”

“I fucking knew you liked her!” Isaac says. “Body language doesn’t fucking lie.”

Jamie shrugs. “Never said I didn’t.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Dani interjects. “Does he know?”

Jamie turns to look at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious or not. “Muchacho, I’m the boyfriend.”

“Ohhh,” Dani replies, “that makes much more sense!”

“Oi, you lot!” Roy shouts. “You can discuss Tartt’s love life after fucking training. Get on the fucking pitch!”

There’s a chorus of “Yes coach, sorry coach!”

Jamie takes one last look at your picture, grins, then follows the rest of the team out the door.

[kitten4sannie]

4 - ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx/ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ -

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ

pairing: wooyoung x producer! reader (fem)

summary: you were expecting to have a normal recording session with wooyoung, but he had other plans.

genre: idol! au, smut

w.c: 1.4k

warnings: sub! wooyoung, dom! reader, degradation, name calling, pet names, use of a butt plug, feminization, dirty talk, exhibitionism, semi public activities, mutual masterbation

a/n: yeah, i'm actually writing this from beyond the grave...this one was just too much for me 🤒

FFF Masterlist

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

Hearing the door of the recording booth open and close, you looked up from the large monitors in front of you, watching Wooyoung put his headphones on. Once you took account of the remaining members sitting in the waiting room, you put your headphones back over both ears, giving him a wave. “Hey, Woo. Are you ready to go?”

"I’m always ready, Y/N.” He gave you a weirdly suggestive smile, his eyelids lowering slightly. You could’ve sworn he batted his eyelashes at you too, but you could just be seeing things after a long day in the studio.   

“Good, good…” You looked down at the monitor again, clicking a few things until the track began, waiting for Wooyoung to sing his first line, which he eventually did, sounding close to perfect. “Alright, that was perfect. Here comes the next.”

Wooyoung bit his lip at your praise, reaching into his pants pocket to press something. He immediately gripped the music stand in front of him, his teeth digging further into his skin. When the instrumental continued, he sang the lyrics, but his voice came out too breathy.

“That was…too seductive for a song about governmental control.” You stopped the track, making Wooyoung look at you with mild surprise, his hand reaching back into his pocket. “Can you do it again, but less…like that?”

“Got it.” He gave you an ‘ok’ sign and faced the mic again, this time grabbing the music stand with both hands, his fingertips clenching around it. Once you started the track again, he opened his mouth to sing, but a moan came out instead. It wasn’t just a regular moan, either. It was downright pornographic.

Your index finger smashed down on your mouse, killing the track once again, your jaw wide open at the point. “W-Woo, are you good in there?”

“Really good…” He might as well have moaned that directly into your ear. "Can't you see how hard I am?"

You eyed the tent in his jeans, feeling your body react to the sight of it, suddenly wishing there wasn’t a thick slab of glass separating the two of you. And three people you had a casual business relationship with hanging out in the room next to you. The kind of relationship you should’ve still had with Wooyoung. You knew it was wrong, yet you were still here, giving into him time and time again.

“Let’s keep going, then,” you said so casually it threw Wooyoung off his game for a second, giving him a small smile as he looked at you, his lips forming an ‘o’. “Go on. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

Wooyoung pressed the button another time and tossed his head back, ignoring the empty track playing in his ear, gasping, “Oh my god, Y/N…it feels so fucking good…”

“Does it?”

“Uh-huh…” He nodded his head, pouting slightly out of habit. “But only because you’re watching me…”

You gulped audibly, closing your eyes for a second to ground yourself, knowing there was no going back after this. "Show me what toy you’re using, Woo," you instructed in a low voice, gazing at Wooyoung with slightly hooded eyes.

“Yeah? You want to see it, Y/N?” He bit the tip of his finger, slowly backing up into the wall behind him, knowing he was hidden from any wandering eyes. “You want to see what’s got me this hard?” he added, his voice lowering as well, gripping the sides of his cock through his increasingly tight pants.

“Mmm-hmm.” Trying not to let your dominant energy slip away from you, knowing that Wooyoung preferred you that way, you leaned your head against the palm of your hand, looking at him with a face of indifference. “Now, bend over and show me what’s turning you into a dumb little slut.”

Wooyoung’s eyes dilated in real time, his body immediately flipping around to face the wall, bending over just enough for you to see his jeans conforming to his body, letting you get a clear view of his perfectly round ass. “Should I take these off?” he asked sweetly, glancing at you through his peripheral, his fingers hooking into the side of his jeans and sliding them down just enough for you to catch sight of the lacy black panties that clung to his hips.

“Jesus…” you mumbled underneath your breath, leaning back in your seat and unbuttoning your jeans. “Take them off and spread your legs for me.”

Wooyoung’s tongue dragged across his upper teeth, delighted with how flustered you looked, choosing to push his jeans down so incredibly slow that your cunt ached with each passing second. “Take a good look, okay?” he giggled, sliding them past his ass and bending over a bit further, then moving his panties to the side to show you the small heart-shaped tip of the plug he had inside him.

Sighing, you spread your thighs apart and slipped a hand past your own panties, your fingers brushing over your clit. "Pull it out..."

Wooyoung rested one hand against the wall, reaching back with his other hand to pull the vibrating plug out, unable to keep himself from moaning at the sensation, his hole puckering around nothing but air. "Now what, Y/N?"

Squeezing and rubbing your clit, you cleared your throat to prevent yourself from making any obvious sounds of pleasure, commanding weakly, "Fuck yourself with your fingers."

He tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, exhaling air out of his nose, looking at you so intensely, you were afraid that he already knew that you were playing with yourself. "Keep your eyes on me..." He sucked on his fingers and spit on them for good measure, then slipped them inside himself with ease, immediately shoving them in and out to his liking.

Feeling like you could barely catch your breath, you slid your own digits into your cunt up to your knuckles, your wetness making it a lot easier to finger-fuck yourself to your heart's content. "Fuck, jerk yourself off too, Woo..."

Wooyoung flipped his body back towards you, pressing his back into the wall, still fingering himself, but using his free hand to collect the pre-cum dribbling down his cock, tugging on it like he would when he was alone. "You're playing with yourself too, aren't you?" He giggled when you nodded your head. "Am I making you wet, Y/N?"

"Yes, very..." you exhaled, your hand starting to move more rapidly below you now that you didn't feel the need to hide it. "Faster, Woo..."

Wooyoung sped up the pace, stroking his cock as fast as he possibly could, curling his fingers inside his hole to rub his prostate. He started to let out more whiny-sounding moans and mewls, allowing you to hear them clearly from how small the room was, neither of you noticing that the instrumental track routinely repeated inside your headphones.

"Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay?" You used your other hand to slip underneath your sweater to squeeze and pull at one of your tits, rubbing your clit so quickly your hand was beginning to cramp up. "Come on, Woo...Do it for me..."

"Watch me, Y/N..." he answered shakily, letting go of his cock for a second to lift the bottom of his shirt up to his mouth to bite it, gripping his length a second later to bring himself to his peak.

The visual of Wooyoung's petite upper body, along with everything else he was presenting shamelessly to you, was too much for you to handle. "Fuck...!" you suddenly cried, your voice breaking, almost appearing as needy as your coworker did, as your arousal began to spill out of you. "Fuck, Woo, please...Cum for me...Let me see you..."

"I'm cumming for you, Y/N...I'm cumming..." he moaned into his t-shirt, keeping his clouded eyes focused on yours, suddenly letting out a muffled whine, spurts of cum landing across his abdomen and chest.

Breathing heavily, you pulled your hand out of your jeans and hit the button on your mouse, stopping the track. "Do you...want to run that back and should we keep it as it is?"

Wooyoung spit his shirt out of his mouth, holding it up with his hand instead, using his other one to push a few strands of dyed hair behind his pierced ear. He gave you the same lewd smile from earlier, this time winking at you, instead of batting his pretty eyelashes.

"Keep it."

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers

[meikadonnelly]

<3

|| nikki sixx ||

nikki sixx x fem reader

it's nikki's birthday and he tells you he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it because he doesn't want to inconvenience you but you choose to celebrate anyway.

no trigger warning <3

fluff

You wake up in your apartment which is quiet and empty apart from yourself. You check the time on your watch which is sitting on your nightstand and decide to get yourself ready to go see Nikki. You had prepared yourself for about two weeks leading up to this day. Nikki's birthday. He told you not to worry about it, but you knew him better than that which meant you could see right through his 'not wanting to be a burden scheme'. You head into the bathroom and brush your teeth and hair before tying it up in a loose bun. You walk back into your bedroom and pick out something to wear, finally settling on a cropped tank top, black leather pants and a black jacket.

~~~~~

You walk up the stairs to Nikki's apartment before knocking on the door which they recently got fixed after you complained enough about climbing through the window. You hear footsteps and then the door creaking open. You look up to see Nikki standing there in his boxers and a tank top. "Hey babe!" he says, chirpily.

"Hey Nikki," you reply, opening your arms to hug him. He embraces you in a warm hug, kissing the top of your head. You look up at him as he still has his arms wrapped around you. "Happy birthday," you say quietly and he smiles.

"Thank you," he finally whispers. You walk inside the apartment and sits on the arm of the sofa..

"Go get ready," you say. Nikki raises an eyebrow.

"Why?" he says skeptically.

"We're gonna go get some breakfast," you tell him.

~~~~~

You both walk down the street, holding hands, to the diner that you both love. The diner that you had your first date. You both walk in and take a seat across from each other in one of the booths near the back of the restaurant. You sit your handbag down next to you and reach inside, pulling out a small case. You hand it over the table to Nikki who looks at you. You prod it at him which makes him grab it. "What's this?" he asks.

"You'll have to wait and see," you say.

"I didn't want you to waste your money on me, I know you're struggling at the moment," he says somewhat sadly, knowing that he's struggling too and can't help.

"I had some money set aside, now just open it," you say, smiling. He smiles a little but just enough to create smile lines on his face. He clicks open the case and you watch as his eyes widen ever so slightly.

"No way," he whispers to himself.

"They're the ones you wanted?" you ask him, taking a sip of your water. He pulls the black glasses out of the black case, holding them in front of him.

"I've been looking at these for months," he says, looking at you.

"I know," you reply, smiling. He finally smiles and grabs your hand, kissing the top of it.

"I love you," he says which takes you by surprise. He's never said that before. You smile.

"I love you too," you say.

"Aren't you two so cute," a voice says. You and Nikki look up to see one of the regular waitresses standing at the table with her notepad. You smile at her, seeing Nikki glance at you in the corner of your eye. "What can I get for you both?" she asks.

~~~~~

"Thank you for today," Nikki whispers to you as you lay on him on the couch in his apartment with the other three bandmates. You tilt your head up to kiss him. You look back at Tommy and Vince who are looking at the sunglasses you got Nikki like they're diamonds. "You assholes better not scratch them," Nikki says. They both roll their eyes and Mick snickers slightly. "They're gonna look so fucking cool on stage," he says to you.

"You're gonna look so fucking cool on stage," you reply which makes him smile and kiss your head.

[toxicbrothel]

Beefro👌🥩💜

POV

waitress x non-canon, chubby nwJoel ty @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the prompt 💕 and @beefrobeefcal for the gif & making the world go round

Working at Golden Corral, you’ve noticed the regulars and sometimes made polite conversation. Hypothetically, there’s a guy, Joel, who’s not bad looking.  He’s always worn PJs and smelled like weed, which made him less intimidating, despite his impressive physique and panty-dropping scruff. He’s been coming in with his brother every Sunday for a long time, and until recently, Joel was always in great shape – apparently a huge gym rat. A couple months ago, he had to have knee surgery, which really sidelined his work-outs. Shortly after that, you began to notice him gaining weight. He didn't adjust his portions at all to account for his lack of burning calories. Weight gain wasn’t uncommon to see at your restaurant, but you’d never seen someone round out so quickly. 

One night, Joel was going back for thirds. He was standing at the buffet line with his t-shirt stretched across his belly, and the garlic bread pan was empty. He looked disappointed, so you offered, “I can grab more.”

“Hell yeah,” he replied. "Attagirl." Your face got all hot.

“I’ll bring them to your table,” you offered. 

You had to deal with something on your way to the kitchen, and it took you twenty minutes to return with the bread. You began to approach his booth, then noticed he was sitting back with his PJ waistband below his belly. His happy trail was exposed, and he had his hand under his t-shirt, further stretching the fabric as he rubbed his belly. You thought you should turn around and give him some privacy, but it was too late, he must have felt you staring. His eyes lit up at the sight of you with a plate stacked high with garlic bread. With some effort, he managed to sit up straight and fixed his shirt, but not in an embarrassed way at all. You approached and apologized, “Sorry I didn’t get them out in time.” 

“What are you sorry for? I’m still right here, sugar.” 

His brother laughed at him. “You serious, man?” 

“Why not,” Joel replied. You retreated to your duties, wiping tables down, but you occasionally glanced over as he packed in every piece of that bread. By the time the plate was empty, he was holding his belly with two hands. When it was time to leave, he was slow to get out of the booth and held onto the table for leverage. He kept one hand on his belly as he waddled. They said goodnight to you on their way to pay, but you could still hear them in line as you cleaned the buffet pans. 

“I’m tellin’ ya, man,” his brother said. “Put on some real fuckin’ clothes, and you’ll see.” 

“These are real clothes, Tommy,” Joel scoffed. 

“You know what I mean,” Tommy said. “You gotta slow down, man. It ain’t healthy. A few more pounds and you may never get back to the gym.” 

Joel dismissed him with a, “Nah. I’ll be liftin’ heavy again in no time.” 

“I bet ya couldn’t fit into my clothes now if ya tried,” his brother taunted.

“Sure I can, man. You’re the one with that big, barrel chest.” 

You think you can fit into my clothes? Let’s put money on it. We’ll go trade right now and wear’em home.” The prospect of this made your chest flutter and you tingled between the legs. 

Joel replied, “I don’t need money, man. but when they do fit, you gotta smoke a bowl with me.” 

“Deal,” 

They went to the bathroom, and you tried not to stare as they came out. This plaid snap-button shirt was just absurd on Joel. As they walked by, you heard Tommy laugh, “You could just admit they don’t fit.” Every button was hanging on for dear life. The bottom two didn’t even button.  The jeans were unbuttoned, too. And, most striking of all, Joel was clearly sucking it in, and it looked like he was struggling. You tried to stop staring but couldn’t. The display of sheer indulgence was making  you throb. 

Eventually, Joel had to breathe, and when he exhaled, his belly expanded so far that every last button popped open, and Joel moaned in relief. 

“Told ya, man,” Tommy laughed next to him. “Look at this gut.” He jiggled Joel’s belly. “I’ll help ya get back in shape, brother.” 

Joel groaned and held his pot belly with both hands as Tommy paid. Joel looked down and lifted it up, let it drop, and winced. Tommy had to stop at the door and wait for Joel to catch up. You kinda hoped Joel wouldn’t get in shape right away. But he was always hot.

----

TY for reading!

practically written by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog with a BIG thot. 💕. ILY BEEFRO!!! Ty for the gif! 💕

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter five - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 2.8k

crossposted on ao3 | masterlist

Okay, you’re regretting agreeing to the date so easily.

Not because you don’t want to go out with Jason, but because you can’t find anything good to wear. And you ran out of that one product that made your hair look really good. And, frankly, you haven’t been on a date in a while. What if you completely fuck it up?

To convince yourself to make do with the clothes in your closet and the hair products on your counter, you tell yourself that Jason is too good of a guy to cancel on at the last minute. The least you can do is go and make an absolute fool of yourself so he has a good time. And you know you’re right, so despite the anxiety, you continue.

When six-thirty rolls around, you’re completely ready and pacing back and forth in your living room. You’re debating taking a shot of the cheap liquor an old school friend gifted you before your move when you hear a knock at the door. You practically sprint to the door, eager to rid yourself of any lingering anticipation—it’s growing painful.

“Hi,” you’re sure the nerves are all over your face, but you smile anyway. “You’re early.”

“Couldn’t help myself. Are you ready, or do you want me to wait out here while you finish?”

“I’m good. Let’s go.”

“It’s a pretty short walk from here. Roy and I used to walk over right before closing and piss the line cooks off…”

By the time you approach the restaurant, Jason holding the door for you as you enter, whatever nerves you had earlier seem to have faded away. He’s so warm, you find it hard to be anxious in his presence. As the door shuts behind you, you’re greeted with the smiling face of a woman who looks about in her seventies, standing behind the host stand.

“Jason! It’s so good to see you again!” The woman rushes around to hug Jason, pecking each of his cheeks to greet him. “It’s been so long! Where’s your brother? Who’s this?”

Jason chuckles at the twenty questions. “He’s in town, I’ll tell him to drop by. This is my date.” He introduced the two of you, you learn her name is Mags, and she tells you she’s been feeding Jason since he was just a kid. It makes his face go red, and you can’t help the wave of emotion that rises in your chest. When Jason removes his gaze from the ground to meet your eyes, you give him a reassuring smile. When he returns it, he seems at ease.

Mags waves over one of the younger hosts to walk you to your table, a nice booth situated in the back of the restaurant. It’s a very private, dimly lit area, lit mostly by candlelight. The red booths seem to glow in the flickering light as you scoot into one, sitting across from Jason.

“I’ll have Caleb out to take your order in a minute. You want your usual?” She asks, directed at Jason before both of their attention turns to you.

“Do you like red wine? We could do champagne if you want.” Jason’s words are soft and casual, and he’s got a confident look on his face. You could get lost in those eyes without any effort, but then you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. Jason’s hand, resting on top of the table, fidgeting. It’s such a stark contrast to the confidence he’s trying to play that you can’t help but smile at him.

“Red wine is perfect.” You turn your attention to the hostess. “Thank you.”

“I guess you’ve gathered I’m a regular here,” Jason starts, still unaware of his thumb tapping away at the tabletop. “I thought it’d be a good way to get to know me. I’m not always great with words.”

You grin. You can’t help it, it feels like it crawls from the back of your throat and claws its way onto your face. “I appreciate you bringing me into such an important part of your life. And I don’t always need words, I can read in between the lines.” He gives you a small smile and opens his mouth to speak before he’s interrupted by your server.

“I am so sorry for the wait.” He sets down two wine glasses, pops the cork on the wine bottle, and serves you both. Caleb ends up being a delight, keeping you laughing as you and Jason decide what to order. You think they know each other well, with how comfortable they seem around one another. It makes you wonder just how much time Jason has spent here.

By the time Caleb leaves to put your order in, your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and you can spot a rosy tint on Jason’s cheeks as he recovers from laughter. He was right about bringing you here, you’re sure of it. Not that the man has ever been standoffish to you, but seeing him in his element is helping you see a new side of him. And this is only the beginning of the date.

The two of you spend some time shooting silly questions back and forth: favorite color, movie, music genre. He’s always very interested in your answers and always asks follow-up questions. The more the two of you spoke, the more you could see him truly relax. Maybe the wine had something to do with it, but twenty minutes into your wait, he’d stopped fidgeting completely.

The conversation comes to a comfortable lull, and you stop to watch him for a moment. You’re beginning to think he’s had a little more to drink than you thought with the way his eyes are sparkling in the candlelight. But you can’t be mad, because it makes him look that much more inviting.

“You’re staring.” He says with a chuckle. You feel your face go hot, an embarrassed smile overtaking your face.

“Sorry. Honestly, I can’t help it sometimes.” You give a shaky laugh that he returns in kind, and you’re so warm you think you have a fever, so you take a sip of wine to help your racing pulse.

“Never apologize. It just means you can’t tell that I’m staring back.” His laugh turns to a smirk, and you can’t help the shy smile on your face as you avert your eyes.

“If I’m being super honest, I can’t believe you wanted to go on a date with me.” You laugh, half joking, and while the smile stays on his face, his eyes narrow.

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“What do you mean?” The tone of his voice makes your heart drop to your stomach, and you’re worried you finally said the wrong thing.

“You’re gorgeous. You’re allowed to be gorgeous. I’m not One Direction; you not knowing you’re beautiful doesn’t make you beautiful to me.” His words initially hit your ears as casual, and aloof, but then you see the look on his face. You realize he’s just trying to tease you a little, and you relax a little.

“I… I’m sorry, did you just invoke One Direction to rid me of my insecurities?” You ask, unable to keep a little chuckle out of your voice.

“Absolutely. Did it work? If not, I learned Little Things on the guitar—”

“Oh my god. Please, no.” You’re laughing into your hands, stomach aching at the amount of laughter you’re doing. You hear Jason laughing along with you, which makes you want to laugh even more.

“Is everything okay?” Caleb asks, and you finally pull your face out of your hands to see a worried look on the man’s face. He’s carrying two plates of food that you have to admit look absolutely divine.

Jason, mid-laughter, reassures him, “Yeah, man. Wow, looks delicious. Tell Antonio I said thanks.”

“Of course, Jason. He always expects me to relay your compliments. He likes them more than tips.” Caleb jokes as he sets the pasta in front of both of you. Some special Jason swore was incredible, so you wanted to try it. “If you need anything, I’ll be around.”

“Thanks, Caleb.” “Thank you!”

You and Jason both speak at the same time, eyes meeting afterward and giggling at each other. As Caleb leaves, the conversation dies down as you both enjoy your pasta. You were right to trust Jason because the dish is delicious.

By the time you’re done, you’re so full you can hardly breathe. Jason is chatting with Caleb as he picks up your plates, slipping him a credit card before he leaves again.

“We have two options,” Jason starts. “Get the dessert menu here, or we can go to a spot I know. They’ve got ice cream, frozen yogurt, even fried cheesecake on a stick.”

“Oh, well, that’s the obvious answer then, isn’t it?”

So the two of you head out on foot to this spot Jason has warned you is a bit of a hole in the wall, but he assures you it has fantastic ice cream. You don’t care where you go, as long as it’s with him. As you walk, he’s got his arm wrapped around you, letting you huddle into his warmth. You were right about him becoming exponentially more comfortable with you as the night progressed, and he even stopped drinking well before you did. He was blooming like a flower right before your eyes; opening up and showing you his beauty under the stars.

This is the moment you’re convinced that soulmates exist and that he’s yours.

He opens the door to the ice cream shop for you, ushering you in to escape from the wind that picked up. You’re still full from dinner, but you’d do anything to extend the date, even eat ice cream on a full stomach.

“What would you like, sweetheart?”

“Do you wanna split a milkshake maybe?”

“I’d love to. What are you feeling? Cookies and cream? Strawberry?”

“Definitely strawberry.”

And so there you sit, in the corner of a dingy dessert shop, sipping on a strawberry milkshake, having a light conversation with the most kind, intelligent, handsome man you’ve come across in months. Years, honestly. You feel like you’ve hit the jackpot, like someone’s going to come out at any point and reveal you’ve been punked.

The feeling continues as he walks you back to your place. He’s back to wrapping you up in his arms, and this time you’re fighting butterflies as you try not to step on his toes. You inevitably do, and apologize profusely, but he just laughs. Pressed against his chest, you can feel the vibration of it, and you feel both put at ease and restless.

Jason is quick to grab you from your reverie, though, his arms tightening around you and pulling you into the nearest alleyway.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” He whispers, making sure you’re hidden behind the wall before leaning over for a peek. He stares for a moment, so you consider it safe enough to do the same. Before he can stop you, you see a group of men in owl masks, kicking at something on the ground. There must be six or seven of them crowded around this thing, so there’s no way for you to get a good look at it to know what it is.

When you hear a groan, you realize what’s going on, and you’re worried you’re going to be tasting that strawberry shake again.

“Jason,” you whisper, “we have to do something.” He nods, reaching into his pocket and firing off a quick text before returning his attention to you.

“Dick will call the cops. In the meantime, we need to get you home.”

“But—”

“There’s nothing we can do, and I’m not putting you in danger. Let’s go. Please?”

“He’ll call the cops? You promise?”

“I gave him the exact location, they should be here any minute. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

“Okay. Yeah, I know. But how are we going to get around them?”

“I know a shortcut. C’mon, sweetheart.” He grabs your hand, pulling you further into the alley. After a few minutes of silently following behind him, being pulled along by the hand, you speak.

“Jason, who were those guys? I mean, I know about people like Joker and Scarecrow, but the records on these owl people are practically nonexistent. And from what I can tell, they’re behind like… all of the disappearances recently.”

Jason stops in his tracks, looking for something in your face but saying nothing. You feel exposed, laid open; something about his eyes tells you that he’s not just looking, he’s seeing.

“They’re not… As dangerous as Joker and Scarecrow are, the Court is a different breed. Just trust me when I say you need to stay far away from them.” He sighs, grabbing your hand again and pulling you along the winding path between buildings.

“The… Court? Jason, could you just explain a little? I can’t find anything on these guys, but it seems like they’re everywhere.” You’re beginning to get frustrated. Not really with him, but with the entire situation. You know they’re dangerous, but you’d argue it’s more dangerous for you to not know anything about the enemy.

“I probably know as much as you do.” He shrugs. You’re watching his back intently, and something about his posture leaves you unconvinced; like he’s trying a little too hard to be casual. “From the reports I’ve seen, it looks like they’ve been committing a lot of kidnappings recently. Other than that, though, I only know that anyone that has ever gone sniffing around there hasn’t come back.”

That leaves you silent, and Jason sighs again, slowing down a bit to walk in step with you. “Look, I know it’s your major and your passion, I just… I don’t want something happening to you. Not ever, but especially not before you can start doing some really good work.”

He stops you at the edge of the alley, your apartment building just across the way. You’re pleased to not hear any sounds of someone getting the shit kicked out of them. “I know you’re going to make a difference in Gotham, and I hope you don’t see this as me discouraging you from your dream. I just want you safe. This city… it’s not what you’re used to.”

You shake your head, knowing that even though he’s keeping something from you, he has valid reasons to do so. It’s only your first date, after all. And it’s not like you aren’t keeping things from him. “No, no, I appreciate it. Really. It’s nice having someone who knows the city looking out for me.” And you mean every word as you throw yourself into him in a hug.

Will you take his advice? Well, that’s another story.

Jason walks you to the front door of your building after scanning the street, no owls in sight. Before you scan your badge, he speaks. “When can I see you again?”

You grin, another one of those you just can’t help even if you wanted to. “Whenever you want.”

His eyebrows raise and he lets out a huff of a laugh. He steps closer, barely a foot away from you now. You feel like you can’t catch your breath, the butterflies in your stomach are making a great escape through your throat.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” He asks, his voice low as his eyes trace your face.

“Sounds perfect.” All you can do is smile. Your cheeks are beginning to ache.

“Could I… Is it okay if I kiss you?” His voice is quiet, soft like his hands as he puts a gentle hand on your cheek.

“It’s more than okay, Jason.” At your permission, he leans down to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. It’s like being struck by lightning, a warmth courses from his lips to your toes, and you wonder if you’re vibrating.

When he pulls away, he’s all smiles, and you have a feeling you’re both on the same page. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

As he turns to leave, you stop him, “Wait, text me and let me know you made it home safe. It’s late; I worry.”

“Will do, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” You open the door to your building and watch him leave through the shutting door. You sigh, unable to rid yourself of the wide grin plastered on your face, and push the elevator button, not bothering with the stairs tonight. Consider it a reward.

You even do a little happy dance, taking comfort in the fact that you would be able to see the redhead coming before he could spot you.

Back in your apartment, you opt to immediately change into comfortable clothes before anything else. Despite it being on the later side, you still have some nervous energy you can’t get rid of, so you open your laptop to see if you can find anything good.

It’s not your fault the Gotham Gazette’s website was featuring a story on the disappearances. But this time, your heart sank when you read the title.

SURVIVOR CRYSTAL JORDAN TELLS ALL ABOUT EXPERIENCE WITH KIDNAPPING CULT

You don’t think you’ve ever clicked on something faster.

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day twenty-two!)

(it’s super duper long!!)

(told ya i’d make up for the short ones :))

“you know just regular coffee gets free refills.” you tell bakugo, who was swishing around what little liquid was in his mug, hindered by the coffee grounds.

“i don’t need a refill.” bakugo grunted. “s’almost time anyway.”

“alright. i’m surprised you made one coffee last two hours.” you smile.

“so what?” bakugo raised an eyebrow.

“nothing. just an observation.” you shrug. you glance at the clock— 6:54.

“hey, takumi, can you close today?” you turn around, watching as she did a cash drop. “i’ll do it tomorrow, i swear. i just—“

“—have a date, right.” takumi interrupted. “of course.”

“it’s not a date!” bakugo yelled furiously, the tips of his ears reddening again. “fuck off!”

“…right.” takumi matched bakugo’s glare with a perfectly blank deadpan.

“well, i’m gonna clock out early,” you announce, purposefully walking in between bakugo and takumi’s lines of sight in order to break off the apparent staring contest.

“okay.” takumi agreed, finishing the cash drop and moving aside so you could clock out.

“i’m going to go change, and then we’ll be off, sound good?” you glanced at bakugo once you finish.

“yeah, whatever.” bakugo fiddled with his empty cup once more as you left to go get your clothes and change in the bathroom.

once you emerge, you find takumi across the counter from bakugo. curious, you walk up to them.

“takumi? whatcha talking about?” you ask. takumi glanced at you, then back at bakugo.

“nothing.” she says, taking bakugo’s empty mug and heading towards the back to put it in the sink. you blink, but you don’t push it as bakugo stands up.

“c’mon, i don’t have all day.” bakugo grunted, looking you up and down briefly before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“sure you don’t.” you laugh. “let’s go, i’m ready.” bakugo grunted in response and made his way to the door. he stopped and waited for you at the door as you tried to walk and get your coat on at the same time, which was harder than it should've been.

"it's kinda chilly today." you remark as bakugo holds the door as you exit. "thank you," you add.

"yeah, whatever." bakugo averted his gaze and surveyed the city, which seemed at peace, for once. he began walking in long, brisk strides, which you had to quicken your pace to keep up with. you tighten your regrettably thin coat around yourself as you walk.

"so, ramen, huh?" you begin. "do you go here often? is ramen your favorite food?"

"one at a time, geez," bakugo tched. "i go semi-often. no, it's not my favorite."

"then what's your favorite?"

"don't have one." bakugo replied bluntly. "the closest you'll get is anything spicy."

"of course." you laugh. how fitting. bakugo paused for a moment and glanced down at you from the corner of his eye.

"...you got a favorite?"

"not particularly."

"so you're indecisive."

"kind of," you admit sheepishly. "if it counts for anything, i have favorites at specific places. just not a be-all end-all favorite."

"you're weird as hell, you know that?" bakugo said. he seemed to be scornful, but there was no denying his amusement.

"i'm pretty sure you've told me that once or twice."

"yeah, well, we're here anyway." he grunted in response, nodding towards the small shop instead of pointing, because heaven forbid he take his hands out of his pockets lest he look less cool.

you inhale deeply as you step in. it smelled amazing. the smell of ramen broth wafted through the air, letting for a warm, comforting atmosphere.

“the hell’re you waiting for?” bakugo looked back. he was already walking in. “it’s seat yourself.”

“oh. okay!” you smile, happily following after him as he finds the two of you a booth. bakugo sits, and you settle across from him in the plush cushioning of the booth.

“it’s so cozy here,” you ramble. “i love the decorations, they’re so cute, but, like, not the kind of cute you find at a cat cafe, but the kind of cute that’s like— well, i don’t really know, it’s just not the same kind of cute…” okay, so maybe you were a little bit nervous that you’d run out of things to talk about with bakugo and would inevitably be stuck in an awkward silence so you tried to prolong every topic as much as you could, but who wouldn’t? however, bakugo glanced up from the menu before closing it completely, seemingly not fooled by your efforts.

“aren’t you gonna look at the actual goddamn menu?” he tched. “dumbass.”

“oh, right.” you quickly turn to the menu, studying it closely. you pause and look up at him. “aren’t you going to do the same? you’ve hardly looked at it at all.”

“i go here a lot.” bakugo rolled his eyes. “i know what they have, and i know what i want.”

“right, my bad.” you laugh lightly. this was much more stressful than it should’ve been. you turn your attention back to the menu.

“hakata ramen.” bakugo said suddenly. “that’s what’s s’posed to be the best.”

“that sounds good,” you agree, flipping the menu over to see if there are any more options. there were. too many, really. “it’ll be nice to have something heavier since it’s cold out. what’re you getting?”

“spicy tonkotsu.”

“that sounds good, too,” you agreed, scanning the menu to see where spicy tonkotsu was.

“hello, how are you tonight?” a waitress approached the two of you, setting down two glasses of water.

“good, thanks.” you closed your menu and set it down, smiling as you turned your attention to the waitress. “you?”

“i’m well, thank you.” the waitress smiled back. “can i start you guys off with some drinks?”

“just the water.” bakugo grunted before casting a glance at you.

“water for me too, please,” you add. “and i think we’re ready to order, if you’re ready.”

“okay!” the waitress chirps. “what’ll it be?” you glance at bakugo, signaling for him to start.

“the spicy tonkotsu.” bakugo stated as he took your menu and lined it up with his, making a very tiny pile to hand to the waitress.

“and i’ll have the hakata ramen, please.” you smile. the waitress nods as she scribbled the order down.

“alright, we’ll have that out shortly.” she took the menus bakugo had been holding out. “thank you!” the woman scurried away, leaving the two of you to your devices once more.

“do you come here every day like you do the café?” you ask, sipping your water as you wait for an answer. bakugo rolls his eyes.

“maybe if i wanted to waste all my goddamn money.” he scoffed. “there’s no point in eating out every day. coffee’s cheap, so it’s fine if i do that often.”

“but… aren’t you rich?” you blurt out. “as the number one hero?” you instantly clamp your jaw shut. oh, god. why did you just ask about his financial situation? that’s so personal, who does that?!

bakugo seemed to find it amusing.

“straight to the point, hah?” he smirked, cheekily displaying his pearly whites. “not bad, dumbass.”

“i’m so sorry.” you apologized, dipping your head in shame. “that was way too personal.”

“s’not like i get any privacy, anyway.” bakugo’s smirk turned into a scowl. “fuckin’ extras dunno how to leave me alone.”

“that must be really tiresome.” you replied sympathetically.

“no shit. so goddamn lame…” bakugo grumbled, his mood soured by the thought of the paparazzi and other meddlesome groups. luckily, however, it was interrupted by your beloved food arriving.

“here you guys are.” the waitress set down the two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks. “did you guys need anything else?”

“no.” bakugo snapped.

“no, thank you,” you replied quickly after bakugo, praying she’d dismiss his attitude. “but thank you.”

“of course!” the waitress smiles, casting a glance to bakugo before leaving. “enjoy!”

the not-date went amazingly, more so than you’d expected. the food was delicious, and the conversation flowed smoothly. you learned lots about bakugo and the life of a pro-hero, and you hoped he learned a little bit about yourself. the only real “differences” you had to overcome was who was paying. bakugo ended up winning that particular battle. at the end of the date, bakugo insisted on walking you home.

“otherwise, it’ll be on me if some villain attacks you.” bakugo had grunted irritably. “so shut up.”

naturally, you thanked him for taking you out (and reminding him that you were going to pay him back for the ramen) once you’d gotten to your apartment, and he only replied with a “whatever” and a scoff. really, you didn’t think it could’ve been any more fun.

as you walk into your apartment and begin to peel off layers, you glance at the clock. it was half past nine; you’d been out for two and a half hours. you smiled to yourself. who knew bakugo could be so entertaining?

you toss your jacket on the chair in your bedroom, swearing that you’ll hang it up later (you won’t) as you change into comfier clothes. you make your way to the bathroom next, humming as you went along. once you reached it, you turned the faucet on and washed your face.

that was a good not-date. you think contentedly. you pat your face dry and stop suddenly as you look in the mirror.

“not date, huh?” you murmur. you’d been using the term all evening. were you really so inclined to deny it being a date? there could be platonic dates, couldn’t there? of course there could. you were just on one.

then why am i being so defensive about it being a date? you sigh to yourself as you made your way into the living room to plop down on the couch and turn on the tv. you flick through the channels, not sure whether you’re watching for background noise or for an actual plot line tonight. you stop suddenly on the news, despite having sworn it off. bakugo was on tv; it was a story about where he’d been. you stared at the pictures and footage they displayed of him, your eyes studying his features. he wasn’t half-bad looking.

i wonder if i like him. you ponder. maybe that’s why. you flick to the next channel. regardless of bakugo being on tv or not, you still didn’t like the news.

i guess it’s a possibility, isn’t it? you watch a cartoon for a moment to see if it’s interesting at all. it wasn’t. i’ll leave it at maybe.

“you’re weird as hell, you know that?”

tags: @k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafaye5294 @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog

[pjisskullourful]

🆄🆂🅴 🅼🅴

🚬Ethan × reader

part 4/?? [series masterpost]

NSFW 🔥 smuttastic feral nastiness

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert ✨ cameos by: Damiano David, Thomas Raggi & Victoria De Angelis

° 'This son of a bitch will pay for this tonight' ||| meeting the members of måneskin in miami unexpectedly brings up your need for revenge [based december 2022]

wordcount::        6,370

° commissioned by the wonder that is kat (@mistressofthecats-blog ) 💋 thanks for another truly filthy idea that i loved bringing to life

“So you’re the reason Ethan can’t focus ‘cause he’s always horny?” Damiano asked.

“Yep, that’d be me. Did you want an apology or…?” You returned, making the lead singer laugh.

You felt good about this, feeling confident of the first impression you were leaving on one of Ethan’s best friends. This was the first night you were meeting all the members of Måneskin and there was an unprompted urge inside of you to prove yourself. Not just to the three of them, but also to Ethan. You wanted to show him that you could fit in with the most important people in his life, as if this was an unofficial test to win the achievement of being the great girlfriend he deserved.

But your night wouldn’t be entirely about appealing to the musicians, because you were at work the same as them. The events management company that you worked for were partnered up with the company that had brought Måneskin to Miami for the night.

This was just a brief moment of relaxation that you would have backstage.

“Okay, okay, how about a little less inappropriate questions for this professional woman just trying to do her job?” Ethan suggested, stepping forward.

Damiano was provided a steaming cup of tea and wandered off for a quiet place to sit. This left you and your boyfriend alone, amongst the rest of the backstage activity. Smirking, you turned to face him.

“Always horny, eh?” You asked.

He stared you down. “Oh, and you aren’t? You’re probably thinking about it right now…”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’m sure that I have no idea what you’re talking about, I am just a professional woman doing my job.”

“Really?” He asked, full of cheeky scepticism. “Are you really gonna try to tell me that you aren’t already thinking ahead to the hotel room?” He took a step closer to you and your eyes darted down to his mouth. “You don’t have any plans for that bed, or the floor?” You were hanging on his every word, too distracted to care if anyone else was noticing the two of you. “You didn’t pack any extra, special items in with the rest of your work stuff?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Baby, I’m just a regular working stiff tonight. I think you should be more worried about yourself.” His eyebrows raised at that. “Will you be able to focus on your drums knowing I’m watching?”

There was no hesitation in how he responded, ready to quip back in the same second that you had finished speaking. “Are you gonna survive knowing I’m banging my drums and not you?”

“Yep, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” You said with full confidence.

“And we’ve got Vic.” One of the members of the touring team announced to the large room as the bassist emerged from the makeup room.

“Okay, photos. Everyone get together.”

Ethan gave you a peck on the cheek before leaving your side. He went over to where someone was holding a bulky camera, assembling with his bandmates.

Before the informal photoshoot could begin, you were distracted by a co-worker tapping your arm. They presented you with a rectangular tin. This needed to get to the merchandise stand, because the staff were running low on cash. You took one last look at Ethan (who was showing his serious side to the camera) before leaving backstage, with the locked container in hand.

The venue was buzzing with the excitement of the fans, with a large amount of people in line to buy some merch. You moved around to the other side of the booth, joining the other working staff. You transferred the cash box into their hands and asked if they needed any extra stock from backstage.

Then you were leaving, ready to see what tasks needed your attention next.

“Why don’t we do a ‘kissing under the mistletoe’ photo?” You heard the photographer suggest as you returned backstage, which made your ears involuntarily prick up.

“But there’s no mistletoe…” Damiano said.

“Imaginary mistletoe.” Thomas offered a solution.

“Come on, it’s festive.” Victoria said. “It’ll be good for the feed.”

There didn’t appear to be much thought put into how they would pair off, Thomas turned to the person directly beside him and Victoria did the same - meaning she would be sharing a kiss with your boyfriend. As you watched, from a distance, you couldn’t help feeling like you were back in school, watching Spin the Bottle go down at a rambunctious party.

“Okay, are we ready?” The person holding the camera asked the chatting bandmates. “Three, two- kiss.”

You kept your eyes glued to Ethan, watching the way he and Victoria laid their hands on each other before kissing. Their eyes were shut as they fully went in, heads tilted and lips parted, leaning into one another. The camera flashed so many times, capturing a lot of photos as they kept going.

You couldn’t look away, even as you felt white hot irritation winding its way around your gut and tightening. The tendrils reached higher and you clenched your jaw. The negative emotions were so deep within you before you had any time to understand their source or apply any kind of logic.

This son of a bitch, it was your first coherent thought, directed at your boyfriend.

You weren’t entirely shocked by the display - you had come to learn that this was something of a trademark for Måneskin. You had seen the video for I Wanna Be Your Slave, you understood that they played with the ideal ‘sex sells’. He had explained to you that the four friends were simply very comfortable with one another, with physical affection being part of that. You hadn’t raised any further questions, accepting this, even if you couldn’t relate to it.

Now, all that you could think about was how you would literally never do this with any of your friends. Even if you were single. Nico would sooner hit you with pepper spray than agree to this kind of lip-to-lip contact.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you understood that nothing would come of this. There was no betrayal to be felt, because you knew she wasn’t after your man, or anything juvenile like that.

All the same, you were plagued by jealousy. Because you wanted to be the one indulging in a kiss with Ethan. It had been hours, you wanted to feel his hands and taste his lips.

This son of a bitch will pay for this tonight, the decision was made.

He was teasing you with what you couldn’t currently have. It was as frustrating as the naked or otherwise lewd photos he sent to you when your work kept you separate.

When the friends finally parted, he screwed his face up in distaste. “Pizza breath. Fucking Hell, Vic.”

This brought about laughter and she playfully punched his arm. One of the makeup artists rushed forward, ready to do touch-ups, beginning with her.

Amongst the movement from everyone else, he spotted you and all traces of that scowl left his face.

He smiled and winked at you. It wasn’t one of his over-exaggerated, silly winks. This was a subtle batting of one lid, just for you.

You returned his smile only half-heartedly, your jaw was still clenched.

“Hey, can I get you to grab another pack of those water bottles from the fridge?” Your supervisor asked, approaching you. “We’re running low out here.”

“Of course.” You said immediately.

You started to leave the backstage area, heading for the loading dock you had been shown earlier in the night. As you walked, you began to make your vivid plans for the hotel room, plans for the bed and possibly beyond.

In your mind, you were already away from this night of work. He had been teasing you and your dirty mind before, but you were prepared to go beyond anything he might expect.

*** *** ***

Almost every word that you had said to Ethan had been dripping with sarcasm. And he had matched this, without any signs of fatigue from the intensive show he had just put on.

The two of you were able to carry out your unique style of flirting as you were driven away from the venue. A large van was filled with the members of Måneskin and some of their team, en route back to the sanctuary that was the luxurious hotel.

You had spent the entire concert coming up with how you would exact your payback on Ethan. This had built up a lot of energy inside of you, with your intentions bubbling just beneath the surface. This manifested in a lot of snarky comments and sassy comebacks.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in the van. But for the majority of the journey, the two of you had been volleying.

“I heard a girl screaming in the front row, ‘fuck me, Ethan’.” You said.

He was smiling at you. “You sure it wasn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“No, I just have memory of that.”

“And is it memories like that which keep you quote-unquote ‘too horny to focus’?” You teased.

“You know that he was exaggerating when he said that.”

“I dunno about that, he seems like a reliable source to me.” You said of Damiano. “If I were going to shout anything, it would be ‘fuck off, Ethan’.”

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t have any memory of that.”

“You’re about to…”

From the seat behind yours, Thomas chimed in. “You two sure have an unusual way of communicating. Don’t take that the wrong way, please. ‘Cause it’s good to go against the grain. But damn, if I didn’t know any better…”

“Yeah, are you two this mad at each other when you’re fucking?” Damiano asked.

In your peripheral vision, you could see that Ethan had begun to blush and this pleased you. “It depends on what kind of dumb shit he’s done that day.”

His mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “What? What about the dumb shit you do?”

“No comparison.” You calmly stated.

“You two need to go and fuck this out already.” Damiano said.

“In his dreams.” You said.

“We’ll see about that when we get back to the hotel.” Ethan said.

A sly smile came onto your face as you responded. “Yes, we will.”

*** *** ***

“I’m so exhausted.” You had said to Ethan once you were back at the hotel, before he had gotten the door to your suite unlocked.

He had taken you at your word, after seeing a portion of your night at work. He hadn’t given you sarcasm or any kind of sass, that mood had been left behind. He hadn’t tried to talk you into joining him in the shower, instead he had kissed you on the cheek and promised to keep the noise down.

“Get some rest, creep.” He said as you yawned.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, you cut this fake yawn off. You continued to undress from your work clothes, going over to your opened suitcase. But you didn’t pull out the old T-shirt you had brought to wear to bed, instead you unzipped a thin compartment of the bag.

You heard the water running in the shower and quickly got to work on the first part of your plan. This included a transformation - taking you out of the practical clothes he had seen you in all night. You replaced your bland uniform with a dark red, velvet dress. You paired this with fishnet stockings, then slid your feet into some black high heels. You pulled on a pair of black, mesh gloves that reached above your elbows.

When you had packed this ensemble, you had envisioned having a romantic reason to wear it. But you didn’t mind putting it to use in this way. Using it for an evil plan was better than not using it at all.

Onto your lips, you painted a blood red pigment. You touched up the makeup already on your face as the water kept running in the other room.

Then it came time to prepare the room. You tossed your secret prop onto the seat of an armchair and began moving this over, getting the chair closer to the bed. You rushed around, turning off all of the lights, excluding your bedside lamp. You used this light to get back to the chair and you sat down, facing the bed. The prop laid in your lap as you listened to the shower.

When the water finally shut off, you reached your arm out and switched the lamp off. You were swallowed up by the shadows, hoping that the light from the bathroom wouldn’t reach you. You crossed one leg over the other and composed yourself.

He emerged from the darkened bathroom (considerate enough to shut off the light before opening the door, to avoid disrupting your sleep). He became another shadow in the suite and you listened carefully for his footsteps on the carpet. In your mind, you visualised his movements.

You kept very still, until you heard the mattress sigh under his weight as he began to settle. Was he reaching across the bed and trying to find your body? How long would it take for him to realise that something was different and speak a question into the silence?

You hooked your prop over one finger, letting its chain make a quick, rhythmic rattling as you reached out with the other hand. You switched the lamp on again, filling this part of the room with light.

His brow was furrowed as he looked in your direction. Immediately his expression started to change, with the concern giving way to show how impressed he was. He sat up in the bed as his eyes rushed to take in your entire appearance.

Nothing was said as he appraised you. You took advantage of this moment and began to twirl one thick leather cuff around your finger, the other, attached handcuff swirled through the air. You maintained this momentum, drawing his attention to your BDSM prop.

“Hey creep, I thought you were asleep.” He said.

You didn’t smile as you looked at him. “Nope. I’ve gotta deal with you before I can sleep.”

“Deal with?” He repeated, looking sceptical.

You got to your feet, taking the few steps over to the bed. “Yes. You see, you’ve been a complete pain in the ass.”

You climbed onto the bed, keeping yourself on your knees so that you were higher than him. You put one hand on his bare shoulder and shoved him back. He didn’t resist this and you got him lying flat on his back.

“It doesn’t matter how God-like you may feel, all of those people screaming and falling to pieces over you and just you- that doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like you did tonight and not face any consequences…” You said, holding the heavy-duty cuffs securely in your hand.

The cocky, teasing smile came back onto his face as he looked up at you. “You’re referring to the kiss?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Alright.” He said and offered his wrists to you, showing his willingness to submit.

“Above your head.” You said. “I’m cuffing you to the bed.”

He continued to smile as he lifted his arms up, he probably thought he was about to go on a sexy adventure. But the cuffs were only a part of your evil plan.

You wrapped the leather around one of his wrists, then you fed the linking chain around a rung on the wooden headboard. You pulled the other cuff over and fixed it into place, trapping him in his current position.

“You look really gorgeous, babe.” He said.

“Aw.” You pinched his chin in your hand. “That’s not gonna get you out of this…”

He looked even more inviting than you could have imagined. You swept your eyes up-and-down his body, which was clad in only a pair of blue underwear. There was more inspiration to be drawn from his current state - the muscles in his arms tensed while the rest of his body was immobile. Your imagination was practically overflowing with ideas as you watched his impressive chest rising-and-falling quicker than what was normal.

“The things I’m gonna do to you…” You said as you remained kneeling at his side.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched the motion of how you had started to stroke the side of your neck. “How about you tell me? Then I can help you and make sure you get everything checked off that nasty list you’ve got.”

You shook your head. “No.” You properly caressed your skin, exploring all that was left exposed by your dress’ low neckline. “I’d rather leave you guessing.” You played with the spaghetti strap over one shoulder. “I’d rather tell you about how totally crazy you drive me. ‘Cause you aren’t just a pain in my ass. You consume me, probably without even trying…”

You ran both of your hands down to the front of the dress, your palms gliding onto your chest. His eyes had widened, fixed on what you were doing, on how you had begun to lightly fondle your breasts. “You make me ache.” Your nipples were firming up beneath the fabric. “You make me so insatiable and it’s so often. All that you have to do is look at me and you get me aching for your touch.

“And it’s in my whole body…” You lowered your hands, going for the hem, which sat at your thigh. You lifted the dress, allowing him to see more of your thighs. You ran your hands up-and-down your legs and he continued to watch with fascination. “I just want your hands all over me, because you make me feel so good.”

He gulped audibly, but he didn’t have anything to say as he watched you working your hands up-and-down your thighs. You let the hem of your dress move without lifting it high enough that he would be able to see your lacy panties.

You found that his dick was now visible as it stiffened and strained against his briefs. This sight brought a smile to your face - you were yet to lay a single finger on him.

“Maybe you know a little something about an ache…” You said.

His nostrils were flared as he nodded a little. You removed one of your gloves and dragged the thin fabric along his skin, watching his feet start to shift.

You didn’t speak as you took off the other glove, his heavy breathing was the only sound in the suite.

The next thing you removed were your high heels. You rested the shoes upon his chest. “Hold onto those for me, will ya?”

He looked displeased by this and you wondered how much of his patience remained. The chain gave a rattle as he readjusted how he was holding his arms.

You rolled your stockings down and pulled them off. It was a sudden decision to loosely wrap them around his neck, as some sort of fishnet scarf. The dark material looked perfect on him, adding another enhancement to how your fantasy was flawlessly becoming real.

You picked your shoes up. “Thanks, babe.” You pulled them back on, knowing how much he enjoyed the sight of you in high heels.

You grabbed for the bottom of the slip-style dress, allowing him to see your black underwear now. You lifted the dress, pulling it away from your bare torso. You removed the velvet garment and tossed it off the bed. His eyes were fixed on you as you readjusted your hair.

You could tell that he was fully hard inside of his underwear now. You started to push your own down, removing the damp panties.

Instead of liberating him in the same way, you placed your hands to his shoulders. This was to help you brace yourself as you mounted him. He loudly groaned when you straddled him at his stomach, keeping your crotch away from his. He squirmed beneath you, but he was ultimately powerless.

You felt a giddy rush to the head, indulging in the triumph of your plan. You were receiving vindication and he couldn’t do a thing to stop you. The sense of control was intoxicating.

And you let it push you further - you grinded as you settled your body weight on top of them. You pushed your wet pussy down until you made contact with his hot skin. You placed yourself over the strip of hair that reached down from under his belly button.

He made an impatient huffing sound as you started to move your hips. You arched your back, rocking yourself back. Then you thrusted forward, dragging your pussy along his skin. You felt a shiver run up your spine as this translated very well to your aching pussy, you continued your work at building some friction.

You rubbed your clit back-and-forth, wetting his skin as you went. Your walls spasmed and contracted around nothing as your excitement grew. You were finding your pacing, settling into his wonderful motion.

“Fuck.” He moaned, watching you grinding yourself on him. “Does that feel good, dealing with me like this?”

“You have no idea.” You said.

He lifted his head from the pillow to watch as you reached down, going for your pussy. You let your two fingers plunge down, wiping along your slit.

He was transfixed by this. Maybe he was preparing for the fingers to go into his mouth, as you had done in the past.

You put the fingers into your own mouth, tasting your cunt as you used your tongue to clean this moisture off. The taste of your arousal coated the inside of your mouth as you took your fingers out. You didn’t swallow as you looked at him.

“Open your mouth.” You instructed.

He opened his mouth and you did the same, leaning forward. He strained in his current position, trying to get closer to you. You pushed the saliva out of your mouth, over your bottom lip. The spit dripped down, going directly onto him.

Only some of the spit landed on his waiting tongue. Most of it landed on his skin and you didn’t waste any of your time wiping this up. He furrowed his brow and shut his mouth again, looking wholly frustrated by this scenario.

But you were still enjoying the manifestation of your plan. You wiped a hand across your lips as you rocked your body weight back again. You resumed your grinding upon him.

You found your rhythm, savouring the effects this friction was having on your body. You could see a look in his eyes as he watched you riding his body, this was a look of him wanting to grab and kiss you. He was hungering for more than that drop of saliva had provided. You could see how tense the muscles in his arms were as you continued to deny his desires.

It added to the thrill of the complete control you currently held over him and it made you push yourself down harder on him.

“You’re mine.” You purred.

His response was instant. “Yes.”

“You are mine, Ethan, all of you.” You said. “And that includes those fuckin’ lips.”

“I know.” 

“Those lips are only supposed to go on my lips, all of them.”

“I know, baby.” He said.

You reached for the nightstand and picked up the packet of cigarettes you had left there earlier. You took one out, placing the filtered end between your lips. You collected one of your E.T. marked lighters, turning the little wheel mechanism until the flame appeared. He watched you light the cigarette and take your first drag.

With this task fulfilled, you could concentrate on your rocking again. You continued working your clitoris against his skin, enjoying how the pressure was building inside you.

Holding the cigarette between two fingers, you lowered it down to him. He opened his mouth, allowing you to place the end between his lips. His eyes were locked on you as he inhaled deeply. He puffed out a cloud of smoke before going back for another drag.

Allowing him this indulgence didn’t seem to help with his impatience. He continued to frown and the way the muscles in his arms still visibly strained told you that he was keen for his imprisonment to come to an end.

He stared you down as you brought the cigarette back to your own lips. He was watching you with such intensity - impatient, but not bored.

The cigarette began to lose its importance to you as the rubbing on your clit started to feel even better. The pleasure was swelling up, getting you so much more excited and you were soon picking up speed. Your jaw fell slack as it got more difficult to catch your breath and you held the burning cigarette off to the side. You squeezed your legs tighter against his sides.

“Are you gonna come?” He asked.

You were going faster, using all of your energy as your body filled with giddy tingles. “Fuck, yes.” You relentlessly pushed your cunt against him as that intoxicating friction demanded. “I’m gonna come right here, right on this fuckin’ happy trail.”

His reaction to this was lost to you as you were overcome by the delicious sensations in your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as you twitched yourself up closer to that edge.

One last powerful thrust was all that was needed for the pressure to melt away and you gained your orgasm. It brought a breathless smile to your face as everything fell into place. The friction was resolved and you could still yourself on him, your attention going back to the cigarette, what remained of it.

You let out a deep sigh, the puff of smoke all that you could see when your eyes first fluttered open. You licked your lips, taking yourself off of him as you slowly came back to Earth.

You could see his stiff dick still waiting and craving attention beneath the material of his briefs. Above this, the light from the lamp caught the little streak of moisture that you had left behind, it glistened as he squirmed.

“I should probably clean that up.” You commented through another cloud of smoke. “But I’m not gonna.” He rolled his eyes. “Just like I’m not gonna do anything about how hard that cock is.” The chain between his cuffs rattled. “You’re not getting any. Your punishment is gonna be those blue balls you’ve got…”

“What?” He snapped, the annoyance making his voice so much louder than what was typical. “You’ve got to be joking, you are being absolutely ridiculous-...”

Crack!

It was louder than anything else in the room, getting your attention at once. He had broken off the decorative wooden rung that had been keeping him tethered to the bed’s headboard. He hardly acknowledged this, meanwhile your eyes had grown wide and you were no longer so relaxed.

“You’re so fucking ridiculous.” He said, his teeth bared. As he started to unbuckle the handcuffs, you scooted away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. “Maybe you were cocky enough to think that you’d get away with that. But it’s time for a reality check, baby.”

It felt like it was with all of his strength that he grabbed your arm, his fingers locking around your bicep. Before you could properly react, he was tugging you closer. Your butt slid across the bed covers and he wrapped his other hand around your other arm.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and resisting was the last thing on your mind. He forced you down onto your back and swiftly climbed on top of you. A portion of the pantyhose had tumbled free from his neck, brushing against the side of your face. He braced himself above you, looking at you with the intensity that could start you trembling straight away.

“Now I’m gonna teach you a lesson.” He said. “And I promise that it’s one you aren’t gonna forget anytime soon.”

His iron grip on you relaxed as he sat back. He unwound the pantyhose from around his neck and used these to clean any of the remaining saliva off of his face. Then he tossed them away.

There was a rush of adrenaline inside of you as you began to sit up. “I need to be taught a lesson?”

“Damn right you do.”

You gave your head a little shake. “And what lesson would that be?”

He grabbed you by the arm again and pulled you over to him. You were twisted around by his hands, turned to face away from him before being pulled into his lap. With his hands on your arms, he held you in place.

He spoke directly into your ear. “You’re gonna learn to not start shit that you can’t finish.”

You scoffed. “You clearly weren’t paying attention, ‘cause I did finish.”

“I did notice that. You making your pussy so sensitive like that was a grave mistake, with what I’ve got planned for you.” He said. “But that’s just the beginning. You aren’t gonna be able to walk in the morning.”

All of that sounded truly wonderful to you, especially because you could tell that he meant it. You didn’t care to get free, even when his guard lowered slightly as he took his underwear off.

Your butt was pressed to his lap again and the presence of his uncovered dick was noticed instantly. Your breathing had grown shallower and the anticipation hung in the atmosphere of the room.

He was controlling you with his hands on your hips, squeezing tight enough that you thought bruises would be left. He got you to the right spot and soon the tip of his dick was spreading your sensitive pussy open.

You couldn’t help squirming a little as he stroked himself in deeper. But he kept you in place with an arm locked around your waist. You heard his determined growl next to your ear as more of his length was buried into you.

Your noises were immediate when he started to move inside of you. From beneath you, he set into his desired tempo. Your moans marked his hips striking into your butt as your hands grasped his forearm with a claw-like grip.

He rocked his body back and you were bracing for the next impact, when he surprised you. As effortlessly as if you were nothing but a ragdoll, he was spinning you around. You were repositioned to face him, his hands on your back bringing your chest flush to his. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist and held it here as fucked deep into you again.

“Unf, Ethan.” You whimpered, clinging to him.

You felt totally out of control as you bounced in his lap. The friction was unbelievable, going straight to your head. In the intense pleasure, you were losing all thoughts, simply going with the momentum he was determinedly maintaining.

“You’re having fun learning this lesson, hm?” He asked, squeezing your body to his as you whined. “Good, because I’m not stopping until I’ve rearranged your fuckin’ guts.”

Your bodies writhed together, you were thrown off of your rhythm when your face was suddenly spat upon. You flinched in response to the drops of saliva hitting your skin.

Before you knew it, you were being moved. He took you out of his lap and you were pushed down onto the bed, flat on your back. You were left gasping for breath, the adrenaline pumping through you and you understood that this was far from over.

He flicked his loose hair back, away from his face as he placed himself on top of you. But he didn’t instantly resume his invigorated jackhammering into you.

Instead, you saw a moment of calm in his eyes as he scanned your face. The gentleman that he truly was won out briefly as he allowed you to regain your bearings, checking that you were alright amongst this feral energy.

You spurred him on for more, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down, bringing him in for kisses. As he kissed you back, he buried his length deeper inside of you. He kept your leg wrapped around his waist.

Excitedly, you sucked on his lower lip. But this was cut short when he shifted his body weight and sat up.

At this new angle, he could grind into you even harder and you were soon grabbing for the bedsheets. He arched his back, his body tensed as he resumed his speedy pounding forward.

Your hands wildly shook and you could feel the pressure building up inside of you. It was more powerful than before, making you feel as if the release was going to break you apart. You were consumed by his passion, with all of your energy going into keeping up with his rhythm.

He grabbed your other leg and guided it straight up, your ankle resting at his broad shoulder. As he continued plunging into you, you felt your elevated foot beginning to shake free of the shoe. You let the high heel fall, tumbling onto the bed behind him.

You shut your eyes, daunted by the edge that you could feel him pushing you up to. “Baby, I’m close.”

“Yes.” He hissed. “Me too. Gonna come inside you.”

“Yes.” Your response was half-shouted. “Come inside of me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” His energetic bucking was matched to his impassioned little chant.

You twitched and spasmed beneath his powerful body, making your loudest sounds of the night. It was all beyond your control, feeling as if your body was filled with an electric charge. Your cunt clenched around his cock, drawing more mind-blowing sensations from every collision.

“Oh, fuck…” He moaned and you could feel his hot cum starting to shoot between your sensitive walls.

You writhed up into him, crying out when this brought out your release. With a tremble, you felt all of the tension inside of you snap, your own cum springing forward. Soon, your thighs were feeling wet, but you were too lost in the afterglow to care. Your legs went limp as the room was swallowed up by silence.

When you finally lifted your head from the pillow, it was to find him sitting by the end of the bed. His eyes were on you as he slowly drank from a bottle of water. You could see a cocky smile tugging at his cheek as he took in the sight of your nakedness.

“My lesson was better than yours.” He said confidently.

“I didn’t know we were having a competition.”

“If that’s how you cope with your loss…” He said.

“How did I lose?”

“I’m just saying that I didn’t see any squirt when you were done on my tummy, teaching your lesson or whatever. But after my lesson…” His smile remained as he took a pause to look at your cunt. “I felt that squirt, and I can see more than just my mess dripping out of you right now…”

“Okay, so maybe you won. Does that mean you aren’t gonna share any water with me?”

He sat forward at once. “Of course not.” He joined you at the head of the bed and handed the bottle over to you. He gently wiped the drops of spit from your face and you could tell that his stormy mood was totally gone.

“The moment you stop fucking me like that, is the moment I’m leaving you.”

“Noted.” He said with a chuckle.

“But you don’t need to worry about me going anywhere ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to walk in the morning, or maybe for the whole day.” You teased.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? My lesson was better.” He said. He laid down next to you and his eyes seemed larger than before as he looked at you. “You’re okay, right?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.” You said, removing your shoe and throwing it away from the bed.

“I just really want to make sure that you aren’t pissed off or actually hurt over me and Victoria kissing for that photo.” He said. “Because she was worried after, that it crossed a line. But I just assumed that you would know it meant absolutely nothing because you’re the only one for me and you know that. But if you want me to apologise, then I’m happy to.”

You picked his hand up in yours, your fingers naturally interlacing. “You don’t have to apologise. I’m not angry at Vic, in fact, I really like her. I think she’s cool. I was there, I saw how manufactured and staged that moment was. But I’m not gonna pass up an opportunity to put you in place and remind you who you belong to.”

“You’re the only one I wanna kiss.” He said, holding your hand between both of his.

“Good.”

“But maybe I should suggest kissing for future photos, if this is the revenge that I get.” He said. “No, seriously, when you first turned that light on and I saw you- I was ready to do whatever you said. You just looked incredible, so damn hot. I felt really lucky, really fucking lucky. But then you made me suffer.”

“You didn’t have to take that out on the bed.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at you. “Didn’t I?”

“No, you destroyed the headboard.” You said, pointing to the missing rung. “Are we gonna get in trouble for breaking the bed?”

He shook his head. “No, it’ll be fine. We’ll make up some lie about how it happened, I’m sure it won’t cost that much to repair. We barely broke it.” He looked at you, smiling. “You know that you and me could really ruin this bed if we wanted to…”

»»————-���♡　————-««

join my taglist to keep up to date with all my debauchery

🍑  taglist: @bethanysnow​ - @chocolatepizzatyrant​ -  @thegeminisgirl - @ha-la-ansia -  @icarodamiano - @paralianeyes​ - @itsmaneskinbitch   @gr8rainbowpunk -@idyllicbutterfly -  @maneslut -   @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @saschenkaaa - @maneskindiva  - @maneskintifoso -  @butkutee - @ursulalurks -  @crwnnjules - @fand0mskullfa1ry

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 9: Harmony

Find all of my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“Happy Friday everyone!” Hob shouts into the microphone. The small stage in the corner of the New Inn is set up with a pair of speakers, a microphone stand, and most importantly, an iPad on a stand, hooked into the sound system and a laptop.

“Who’s ready for some karaoke!? We’ve got the incredible DJ Johanna ready to play your favorite hits. Have a look through the selection and we’ll get going!” He hops off the stage to slide into the booth in the corner across from Dream.

“Well? Wanna sing a duet together?” Hob waggles his eyebrows at Dream, whose eyebrows scrunch minutely. “I’ll take that as a no,” he laughs. The first patron steps up to the stage and the first notes to some pop song Hob doesn’t recognize start to play. He thinks he appears calm, or at least he hopes he does. Tonight, he’s either doing something amazing or tremendously idiotic. He scrubs his hands down the front of his jeans, begging the sweat on his palms to stop. Dream is enraptured by the singer, who is surprisingly good, in Hob’s opinion. He starts tapping his fingers on the table to the beat, releasing some of the nervous energy built up over the entire day for what he’s planned.

As the final notes of the song play out and the audience claps, Hob steels himself. No going back now.

“Now give it up for our very own Robbie!” Johanna says over the mic at her table. Hob stands, taking in a deep breath and hopping back onstage. He gives a little wave and a bow to his regulars, then takes the microphone. Dream is staring right at him, and he then he thinks he’s going to pass out. The opening guitar notes ring out and the audience screams. His regulars aren’t stupid, they’ve known he’s in love with Dream since the day he walked back into Hob’s life. Always asking him about “that goth twink” of his, “when’s he coming around again?”, and “when are you going to actually ask him out, Rob?” It doesn’t help that Dream looks strikingly similar to Robert Smith, making his purpose of choosing this song entirely too obvious. Jesus, they’d even made the comparison themselves! Whatever. This was for Dream.

He starts to sway back and forth as the introduction plays. The butterflies in his stomach start flying in a tornado as he brings the microphone up to his mouth, refusing to meet Dream’s eyes until he gets into the song a little more.

He sings, “I don’t care if Monday’s blue, Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too. Thursday, I don’t care about you. It’s Friday, I’m in love.” He begins to lose himself in the song, starting to perform the way he usually does on karaoke nights. At some point, he accidentally locks eyes with Dream. He looks like he’s going to cry. His eyes are glistening with tears that Hob can see from across the room. The corners of his lips are turned up in what is practically a grin for Dream.

The verse ends and the buildup to the bridge begins. Hob closes his eyes and spins around the stage. When he opens them and looks to the booth. Dream isn’t there. Had he scared him away? He’s just about to tell Johanna to cut the song when he hears two combat boots make contact with the stage. Dream. Hob bursts into a grin as Dream leans towards him. The screen showing the lyrics signals that it’s almost time to sing again.

As Hob sings the first line of the bridge, Dream sings the harmony. His voice is angelic, Hob can’t believe how beautiful it is. He’s leaning so close to Hob to sing into the microphone that Hob thinks he’s going to die on the spot, immortality be damned. They lock eyes again, only inches apart. The entire crowd is screaming and hollering but neither Hob nor Dream are paying any attention.

The music continues to build as their voices blend together as they sing the final lines of the bridge: “You can never get enough, enough of this stuff. It’s Friday, I’m in love.”

As they sing the chorus again, Hob reaches out to place his hand on Dream’s waist. He feels Dream’s muscles clenching as he sings and inches even closer. They sing the vocalizations that end the song and as it begins to close out, so he slips the microphone back onto the stand and pulls Dream into his arms. Dream smiles, bringing his arms up to wrap around Hob’s shoulders. Hob sucks in a breath and decides to risk it. He leans forward, turning his head to the right to meet Dream’s lips. Dream immediately responds, becoming putty in his arms.

The kiss is relatively chaste, considering how Hob wants to devour Dream whole. He presses in, Dream’s lips softer than anyone Hob had ever kissed. He nibbles at his bottom lip, just to tease him, then steps back, tuning back into the crowd losing their minds.

He hears Harry, one of his regulars, shout, “You finally did it mate! Great job!” as he guides Dream back down the stage’s stairs. They slide back into their booth, this time on the same side. Dream is glued to his side, sitting so their shoulders down to their thighs.

“I was not expecting this when you invited me, Hob Gadling.”

Hob grins and says, “Surprise?”

“It is fortuitous I listened to your music recommendations,” Dream rumbles. “I do enjoy the Cure. Certainly now.”

“We are going to discuss this later,” he says as he caresses Dream’s cheek. “But for now, I just want to enjoy the night. It’s true by the way. It’s Friday and I’m in love. With you.”

Dream hums in assent. “As am I,” and he leans in.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

In a Heartbeat - Chapter 22 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Simon

"I was thinking we can hit up this breakfast place before we open the clinic," Sam smiled.

"It's one of my favorite spots."

We had about two hours before the clinic opened but Sam insisted even if we were late, the girls could manage on their own.

I wasn't sure how he had this much energy, despite only getting about five hours of sleep.

I was still exhausted but the sound of food was really tempting.

Both of us had skipped dinner, staying next to Belle's side while Sam and I opened up to each other last night.

I wasn't one to share my past or my feelings like that but with Sam, it was different. I could talk freely, openly and he did the same.

As we walked towards his truck, I couldn't help but feel bad about seeing the dent in his front bumper.

He didn't seem to mind, starting up the truck.

"You're going to love this place, they have the best waffles in town. Don't tell Clara but her pancakes got nothing on their waffles and their milkshakes are to die for."

He drove out onto the main road.

"And the best part, they serve breakfast all day."

I chuckled as he went on about all the types of flavors of milkshakes and types of toppings for waffles.

I was surprised I've never heard of the place but then again Aspen and I hardly ventured away from the motel and nearby shops.

We hardly even went to diners because they tend to get pricey, we usually settled for fast food or cooked our own food.

Sam slowed as he turned off the main road into a strip mall parking lot.

On the corner was a small almost out of place diner, like it had been transported from the eighties.

The neon sign read Cindy's Diner.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked as he put the car in park.

He grinned.

"I used to come here when I was in med school. It was one of the only places that were open where I could eat after studying and working all day. Cindy's was like my second home."

He seemed way too giddy for someone who nearly pulled a fifteen-hour shift and only got five hours of sleep,or the food and drinks here were just that good.

He grabbed my hand as we walked in, as I gaped at the eighties decor still in pristine condition.

Knick knacks lined the walls, some even hanging from the ceiling.

A whole bunch of old and new photographs displayed on the back wall on cork boards.

Even the black and white tiles seemed to be in decent shape.

"Well, if it isn't Sam?"

An older lady, wearing the outfit proclaimed.

"It's been awhile young man."

Sam waved, as we approached the front desk.

"It's been too long, Cindy."

She walked over, with her arms extended and gave Sam a big hug, before giving me a curious glance.

"And who might this lovely fella be?"

Sam chuckled, as she leaned closer whispering still loud enough for me to hear.

"It's been a while since you've brought someone special."

"This is Simon. He's been helping out with the clinic," he smiled.

"Oh," she drew out.

"Well, I'll have your regular out and what would you like, darling?"

I glanced at the menu but all the options were so overwhelming.

"I'll just have what he's having."

"Alrighty, two strawberry shakes and Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. It'll be right out dear. Sam, your booth is open in the back."

We gave our thanks as I followed Sam to the booth in the back.

As we got closer I could see the picture wall clearer.

Polaroids and digital photos lined up, some senior portraits and wedding photos were there as well.

It seemed a lot of people had enjoyed this place.

One photo, taken a while back had a man that looked just like Sam.

Maybe his father?

Before I could sit down and ask Sam about them, I heard someone stand up abruptly next to us.

"Simon?" a female voice called out, one I hadn't heard in a long time.

One that sent shivers down my spine, a voice I knew to avoid when I heard it but now there was no escape, not while we were in a diner.

"Is that you?"

Sam was curious but didn't say anything as I turned to face Sarah.

My heart was racing, my thoughts running around like crazy.

Despite knowing how nice she was when I had been there, she just reminded me of who she was: Vince's Luna.

Sam's 'he chose her' taunting me over and over as it replayed in my mind.

The fear and anxiety making it harder to focus on what was happening but Sam seemed to notice my discomfort, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, as if to steady the slight tremors that were starting to form.

"Oh my Goddess, it's you. It really is you," Sarah grasped my hands in her own, looking at me with a gleam in her eye.

I felt her wedding ring graze my knuckles.

I quickly avoided looking at her directly, afraid that maybe it was still not considered appropriate to stare at a Luna directly.

"We've been looking everywhere for you."

'We?' I didn't like the sound of that.

Did that mean he was here as well?

Why would he be here anyway?

I don't think I could survive facing him.

Last time I had a run-in with them together, a few Betas had chased me into the dense and unfamiliar portions of the forest surrounding the pack and it had taken me almost three days to find my way back but then again, I didn't smell his scent when we entered.

Sarah gasped, looking past my shoulder before waving her hand frantically.

"Honey. Look who I found."

My feet were cemented to the ground.

I didn't dare move a muscle, I don't think I could even breathe as I could hear the footsteps approaching.

I waited for the sweet scent of the bond to hit me but it never came.

It wasn't sweet but I knew this scent.

Before I could even process it, I heard the drop of someone's cell-phone.

I turned to see Aspen standing there, his under eyes a dark gruesome color, his hair disheveled.

He looked like a wreck, which I guess was partly my fault.

"Aspen," I whispered, as a flood of emotions of seeing him there washed over me. 

[aseasonforexcellence]

"Forgiveness Fits in a Cup"

A brief fictional vignette inspired by when a friend in class commented, "Reconciliation does not mean progress."

This morning I caught the train a minute late. The train on this edge of the city was so prompted as to be the very heartbeat of the city, and I stepped into the cab a minute late. I half expected an attendant to throw me off for disturbing the rhythmic regularity of the train on a beautiful spring day. No one came, and I held my guilt as penance.

The usual schedule was interrupted by an unexpected visitor whom I stopped hoping to see again nearly a decade ago. No strong feeling other than mild annoyance arose seeing them through the glass in the front door—the same feeling I have when the neighbor leaves their trash bins behind the car I rarely drive. They rapped, pleading for entry, while I glanced at the clock and hastily thrust lunch and paper files into a worn briefcase. I opened the door and the guest flushed with embarrassment and no clear motive. The situation is ironic considering the guest, rapping anxiously, prompted me and the door to open.

            “Hello,” the guest said. They rubbed the hat in their hands as if they took it off for the national anthem at a baseball game.

            “How can I help you?” I offered.

            “Can I come in?”

            I hear the cat’s paws are faint in the background. Perhaps suddenly, I scoop my coat and briefcase to step out of the house. I shut the door before J.J. (Jean Jacques) could escape into the yard.

“No,” I retort, smooth a hair from my forehead. I continue, “but I have five minutes while I walk to the train station.” I attempt to soften my response, “It is a Wednesday in the middle of May, and I just got back from vacation. I cannot be late to work today.”

            The cobblestone path to the road basks in morning sunlight. Distant car sounds, the rumbling of a trash can being brought to the curb, and bees hum in a fresh bloom of yard flowers. I smiled and took a deep breath, barely audible. It will be a nice day today, I thought to myself.

            I set off at an intentional pace. The guest keeps pace, at first side by side, and then a half step behind, to the right, as we step left onto the sidewalk. Down the gentle hill is the train station already in sight, dappled with shade and the early sun.

            “I came all the way from Sturbridge,” the guest manages to say, “to apologize. I am sick to think that it has been years since I last spoke to you, and I had to make things right.”

            People milled about the street we walked now. Parents kissed their children before they walked to school, and partners hug goodbye to meet again in the evening. A moment of silence passed until the rhythmic steps prompt the guest to continue, “I need to know if I have your forgiveness. Do you forgive me for what I did? I can’t live without knowing.”

            The road is leveling, and I see a person leaning against a small red car. We make a peculiar pair, this guest and I, that the person stands up straight seeing us, maybe in anticipation. A second later, I realized this person is here with my guest.

            There are four minutes until the train arrives, and two minutes left of the walk there. I walked a beat faster because I cannot be late to work. I need to persuade my business partner to let me take another family vacation in a month and coming late would be another burden. The steps echoed on the background of silence, but it did not prompt the guest this time. I get all the way to the ticket booth line, only a few people deep, before I address the guest.

            I look at their face for a moment intentionally longer than necessary—I acknowledge that their presence is real and solid. I pull a thought from the shelf within my mind and dust it off. I don’t know if it is a response respectful of memories frozen in place and mindful of time passing on, but, at the very least, it was honest. “Jean,” I handed the worker my train pass, having made it to the front of line, “I am glad that you have come to reconcile and that you appear healthier than before.”

            The color seems to drain from the guest’s face, immediate irony, but I cannot read the expression beyond the displacement of color. I step out of line to stand before the gates, and the crescendoing noise of wind meaning that the train has arrived. When the train comes, there will be an unpredictable amount of time before it departs—can you count the number of seconds between heartbeats every time?

I continue, “It has been years, but I gave my all when I could with the ability I had then. I don’t have anything left to say, and I don’t need anything from you. Surely, you came to find me to do something for yourself.” I smiled, pained. “But reconciliation is not permission to move on. What changes for you after this? You already have my forgiveness.”

            My response didn’t sound much like an apology or the acknowledgement of an apology, if that is what it was. I tried again, “You should try the restaurants here. There is no such thing as bad food here. I have never been disappointed in finding what I am looking for.”

            Someone calls out from the train to board before it departs. There is a gray cloud hanging in the clear spring sky. Before this old friend could respond—they certainly took their time—the wheels began to turn slowly. I make some strange gesture with my free hand, something like an apology for the circumstances and a wave goodbye. Either by illusion or manifestation, I make it onto the train and into a cab. I am a minute late, and I expect to be reprimanded. The train pulls out of the station, and the old friend is waving me away. I wave back, and no reprimand comes.

            A reassuring smile from a train attendant convinces me that the train stalled half a second, and I made the train despite being a minute late. I have only ever seen this train late a handful of times in the last decade. I vow within myself to leave a minute sooner.

            The day is beautiful and warm, and the air so thick and sweet you can almost taste it. I eat lunch outside, and I take a later train back to walk around the park near the office. I call home just to chat, and I sit in the backyard when the sun sets. I feel a momentary pang of loss as the sun sinks. There is always a reason to feel pain as there is always the want to reconcile it. All the same, a wound that scarred is still a wound that healed.

            When I go to bed that night, I appreciate the old friend visiting even if only briefly. I imagine my friend and their stranger walked around the town, ate something peppery, and followed it with gelato from the corner store. In the car ride home, they will talk about what happened, or not—about how rude I was, or not. They will eat gelato and talk some more, and it will become apparent in the space between responses that gelato is the only thing from the trip that they can take home in a cup. If I were present, I would refute that claim because forgiveness was a letter I mailed more than a decade ago. And not only is it not here, I promise that it fits in a cup.

[xiaophobic]

‧₊˚.𖧧. START OF SPRING!

𖤐 01. — including! — (in order) diluc, thoma, xiao, albedo, & arataki itto <3

genre/warnings! 𖤐 02. — modern!au, fluff, a whole bunch of meet-cutes, itto is so stupid but it’s okay please accept the pick-up line, diluc’s kind of doesn’t make sense BUT DON’T THINK ABOUT IT TOO MUCH, they get progressively longer? sorry LOL, xiao’s is an nyc train station if you couldn’t tell ^^

༉‧₊˚. SYNOPSIS! — spring symbolizes change, growth, and prosperity; the start of something new. thus, below are the moments in which the season of spring began for the two of you, and in turn the blossoming of your relationship.

#. DILUC — !

it starts in tending to your garden…

beaming rays of sunlight drape themselves along your skin, and you smile at how the changed weather welcomes you. in any other situation this heat might’ve been frustrating, but it’s the first of its yearly debut. it’s refreshing. bringing yourself to immediately hate it is practically impossible.

you find yourself fitting in your worn gardening gloves. it’ll be nice to mend the likely overgrown vines and fall back into the rewarding routine. who knows, maybe you’ll find something new blossoming?

across from your quaint garden, you spot a fairly unfamiliar man tending to the clusters of grape vines adjacent to your property. you conclude he must be your neighbor, diluc ragnvindr, who you’ve come to know as the owner of a specific winery somewhere on the outskirts of the city through passing conversations with his warehouse manager. though, you’ve rarely ever caught glimpse of him before, and based on how striking he appears from your view, you’d definitely remember if you had.

maybe it’s the extra dopamine from all the sunshine you’re getting, but you decide to take the leap.

“good morning, mr. ragnvindr!” you offered, loud enough for him to hear.

surprise is evidently a good look on him as you can feel your face heat up in a way you can’t possibly blame on the weather. his hardened stare quickly dissolves at seeing it’s just you, his pretty neighbor whom he’s been silently pining over for months. a foreign flutter ignites in his chest, a feeling that he’ll momentarily blame the pollen intake for.

yet, he waves back to you and you smile so brightly it almost hurts to look at, and pollen can no longer take the fall for his butterflies.

#. THOMA — !

it starts in stopping to get breakfast…

you lead your life differently when you’re happy. when the clouds finally part to reveal the sun and mother nature caresses your face as a greeting after a long rest, you smile and get out of bed just a bit earlier. the wind sounds like a song from your adolescent years and your lighter clothes feel like home. and it’s warm out!

so, with your newfound “early bird gets the worm” mentality, your phone’s clock confirms that you’ve got time to spare before committing to your day’s responsibilities. and if you remember correctly, there is this new café you’ve been meaning to try.

stepping through the doors of the new establishment, you marvel at how vibrant its decor is. it’s beautiful, enough to already solidify for yourself that you’re absolutely going to frequent it. however, in the center of it all might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

he stands in front of you in line, his toned back showing through his thin white shirt. he’s on the phone and you blush at the sweetness of his voice despite it not even being directed toward you. he turns to thank the barista for his drink and his eyes glisten and god, if he’s here then this café doesn’t have to hesitate in putting you down as a regular.

you’re ordering for yourself before you know it, the cashier having to repeat their kind “hello, how may i help you today?” to snap you out of your daze. the aroma of their goods is astounding, the baked treats within the display booth taunting you. you wonder if you should reconsider not purchasing any as you begin to leave, but that’d mean —

you shriek, “o-oh my god, i’m so sorry!”

the contents of your drink suddenly end up all over the shop’s wooden floor, as well as the man you’d previously been ogling. napkins fly from your bag onto the spill, and you hear him chuckle above you at your sudden frenzy. he bends down to help as well, because of course he does (why is he also kind?!).

strings of hurried apologies tumble from your lips until you meet his eyes. you already knew he was gorgeous (even more so when you’re face-to-face), though having him coyly smile at you and assure you it was purely a mistake almost has you dropping to the floor instead.

“you’re fine, don’t worry.” he grins through his words, eyeing you with interest. “but, if you’d maybe be open to me buying you another cup, i wouldn’t mind that.”

#. XIAO — !

it starts in taking a different train…

flower buds decorate the trees along your path, the essence of a changed season weaving itself within the new setting. however, all days must come to an end, and you find yourself searching for the nearest transportation hub in order to get home.

an unfamiliar territory means stepping out of your comfort zone, though you chose to be okay with that once you decided to walk a different path than you usually do. so, what’s one more change of pace? you’ll use a different station then you usually do.

the seats on the train are blue instead of the warm, multicolored ones you’re used to. the automated announcements sound different and the stops all have different names, and it’s nice! change is good.

it’s late, meaning there are naturally less people aboard the train alongside you. in the car you’re in, you count two people, including yourself. the other passenger sits opposite of you, looking off to the side with an generally uninterested expression. his stoicism is dangerously intriguing, but you can’t even truly tell if he’s aware you’re there.

the train’s movement pauses, and a voice booms within the speaker announcing that you’re expected to be moving again shortly. you don’t think much of it, it’s common. in the silence granted by the absence of the train’s screeching, you’re able to hear the music blasting within the headphones of the man across from you, and so like any other people watcher, you study him.

does he live around you? you’ve been following the same path for a while so he must, at the very least, be close. he’s likely new to the city, you rationalize. you’d like to talk to him, though should you? it’d be breaking the unspoken rule of thumb about wearing headphones in public, but the urge to engage in conversation hangs on your tongue. as if sensing your thoughts, you lock eyes with him through what seems to you as a passing glance of his (he’s been stealing “passing glances” since you walked on the train. you’re too gorgeous not to).

“i like your star,” you start, sheepishly. he hesitantly pushes his headphones onto his neck, focusing his energy onto you, and the sudden attention makes you nervous.

you dial back. “diamond? star? i like it, it’s pretty, really!”

for a second he only stares at you dumbfounded. pretty? he moves his fingers to graze over the birthmark adorning his forehead. it’s always garnered him attention, though “pretty” is relatively new. the train begins to move again while he internalizes your comment, and you watch with interest as his initial confusion warps into realization, and is quickly overruled by flustering.

“thank you,” he mutters. a slight smile accompanies his words, but the sight fades as contemplation takes over his expression.

your minds clutter in unison as you ponder how to ensure that this interaction isn’t your last. ask him what he’s listening to, where he’s heading, his name, even. anything to keep him from fading away into the sea of city goers.

the train doors slam open in the midst of your thoughts, and you sigh in horribly evident disappointment as the automated voice above booms out the name of your street. with a readjustment of your bag and a last glance at your newly acquired train crush, you’re pleasantly surprised with how he mirrors your motions of walking off.

“is this also your stop?”

#. ALBEDO — !

it starts in getting caught in the rain…

what’s the saying again? “april showers bring may flowers”, correct? well, it’s unknown whether the same notion can be applied to something akin to a thunderstorm.

regardless of your feelings toward rainy weather, you doubt it can be denied that pouring rainfall as violent as this is, at the very least, a slight inconvenience. especially for someone like you, who intended on taking the scenic route on the way home, only to be greeted with roaring thunders in return for your comfort zone departure.

luckily, you had enough foresight to carry an umbrella. judging by the way this approaching storm looks, however, you fear it might not last very long.

choosing to forgo your pessimism, you carry on your path, adding a bit more speed than usual to your step. the skies cloud with grey more and more each second, though you omit your encroaching panic. you’ll be fine, you’ve got this.

maybe it’s to taunt you, but as soon as your self affirmations begin to float about in your mind, a surge of lightning crackles in the distance, startling you so bad you almost drop the umbrella entirely. the winds pick up right on cue too, pushing all your surroundings to and fro. a bed of flowers you’d have like to take a picture of were it not currently storming were plucked away by the breeze, petals and all. so much for the scenic route.

each step begins to feel like a marathon as you fight against the bashing storm, though despite it all, you were still doing it! …or so you thought. unfortunately, just when you were about to round the corner of a block, your umbrella’s upper half snapped right within your hold. your only protection had inverted, now collecting a pool of water above your head.

you almost scream at the sensation of the rain starting to pour down in you and the frustration from your last shred of hope fading away. you do what most people around you have taken to, and you run to the nearest shelter you can find.

a lonely bus stop rears its way into your view, and you begrudgingly slot yourself underneath it next to its only other occupant. a perfectly dry man protecting himself under a quant little black umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the state of the world around him at the moment. a twinge of jealousy claws at you.

you ignore him for the most part, more focused on composing yourself as much as you can before you trudge back out into this rain. you try not to let your approaching crash hit as the adrenaline rush wears off from this break, though the seat of this bus stop welcomes you so nicely.

“excuse me,” bus stop boy (that’s what you’ve decided to name him) prods at your attention, already looking a bit apologetic at how you stare back at him. “would you like this?”

he extends his own umbrella towards you, and you only blink at him. what? is this complete stranger just offering his umbrella to you?

sensing your apprehension, he clears his throat and starts again.

“i’ve carried a spare. i had plans to meet with someone, though they never showed due to the storm.” bus stop boy digs through his bag, pulling out an umbrella identical to the one he’s been trying to hand you.

“i can assure you they’re both brand new and very efficient.” he offers a reassuring smile, a real one that reaches his eyes. “you just looked like you could use it. i apologize if i’ve come off too strong.”

the small bubble of jealousy from earlier twists into guilt for ever conjuring the feeling. you can tell he’s kind just from the sound of his words, it was entirely the rain’s fault for making you think that’s way earlier. you reach out and he hands you the umbrella, his gloved hands brushing yours for only a second. (it’s enough to make the rain droplet that rolls down your cheek feel cool against your blush).

you hold it above your head, feeling protected once more. looking out at the street signs you conclude you’re not as far from your destination as you thought, only a few more blocks. being indoors once again after this storm entices you enough to make you stand, ready to venture out.

“thank you…?” you trail off, realizing you have no actual name to place onto your current savior.

“albedo,” he finishes for you, catching on. albedo, huh? you bite back a giggle, you can’t decide whether or not bus stop boy fits him better.

“thank you, albedo.”

he only nods politely at your thanks, choosing not to speak again should his voice betray his heart, given that it surged at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue.

“please, be safe.”

#. ITTO — !

it starts in being chased by dogs…

unethical, isn’t it?

about a week before this predicament of yours, this peculiar new neighbor settled into the apartment next to your own. a decently good guy, at least from what you’ve experienced with him so far. you bumped into him whilst taking out your trash and he introduced himself as “the oni sumo king itto”, which was a bit strange, but his sickeningly proud grin when he said it was too distracting for you to really judge him for it.

unfortunately, no amount of distracting beauty can take away from the fact that you’re currently running for your life!

somewhere during his first few weeks within your neighborhood, “itto” (the oni sumo king?) had managed to become a dog walker. it’s not necessarily a strange occurrence, though when you catch glimpses of a very large man caring for dogs that individually amount to the size of his arms alone, it’s a bit more endearing to see.

with this being true, it’s only natural that you let the charm of his occupation entrance you a bit when you’d seen him across the street, right? a hyper little labrador puppy melted under his hand as he pet it, tail wagging a mile a minute. as cute as the dogs he handles were, the boyish grin he sported dared to rival them. he embodied the job perfectly.

the stoplight chimed as green flashed above you, and you pulled yourself out your trance in order to cross. he tightens his hold on the many leashes as he begins to walk as well. you’re about to intercept him when you debate whether or not to greet him, though you ultimately decide against it. you rationalize to not let the allure of how adorable he looks with those dogs fool you too soon.

however, your new neighbor is about as extroverted as they come.

“hey, neighbor!” his voice is as stupidly bright and boastful as it was upon your first introduction.

if you weren’t literally in the middle of a crosswalk, you might’ve stopped to verbalize a “hello” back. you only waved, though, and based off his unwavering smile, he didn’t seem to have much of a problem with that. (how many thoughts are truly behind those eyes?)

thinking you can continue on with your day now, you resume planning your tasks. let’s see, groceries, visit the community garden, oh! and you’d like to pass by the bookstore if you have time — what’s that?

a high-pitched growling can be heard behind you, followed by a squeaky bark and all to quickly the scraping sound of paws against asphalt as the dogs and by association, itto, come charging at you.

your mind definitely lags a bit as your body responds quicker than anticipated. is it even smart to run from a pack of dogs? god, any questions right now are absolutely not getting answered, not when you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. looking back isn’t an option as it’d slow you down (would a demise caused by a bunch of puppies truly be that bad?), though you can hear your neighbor desperately pleading for the dogs to stop. maybe that’d be funny if it wasn’t at your expense.

after what feels like hours of cardio you did not ask for, your savior approaches in the distance. the bookstore! pets aren’t allowed in there, you’ll be freed! you speed up as much as you can and duck inside, the clerk inside giving you one of the strangest looks you’ve ever received. ignoring the embarrassment from that, you revel in the fact that your plan worked as you watch the dogs drag a very exasperated-looking itto down the next street, completely unaware of your diversion.

you can’t believe you just got chased by the same buff jerk you were prematurely crushing on only a few minutes ago! this is undoubtedly the end of whatever budding feelings you could’ve had for him.

well, that’s what you would say if that same jerk hadn’t later come to deliver what he deemed an “apology cake” made by his roommate. it was beautifully decorated with tons of flowers and intricate designs. through the translucent seal of the box it came in, you could read the words “chase your dreams” spelled out in frosting.

“chase your dreams?” you start, your tone a tad more annoyed than you’d like.

“it’s what i asked shinobu to write on the cake!” still as joyful as ever, isn’t he?

your accusatory glare seemed to affect him way quicker than you thought it would, and he began to shrink before you. his head hung low as he spoke his next words.

“i was planning on turning around and sparkin’ up a conversation with you when you crossed the street, and i guess the little guys might’ve saw somethin’ and started chasing you. that’s my bad…” he starts toying with his fingers as a means of expressing his nervousness. he’s being genuine. that’s sweet. (you’re supposed to be mad at him!)

“so i asked shinobu to write “chase your dreams”, ‘cause…that’s kinda what i was doin’, right? if you catch my drift…”

it takes a moment to process, but when it renders that, on top of everything, he’s just indirectly flirted with you through a cake, you have to fight the urge to laugh and maintain whatever semblance is left of your grudge.

you sigh. maybe he isn’t all bad.

thank you so much for reading !!! ily MWAH be safe 🫂

[the-swedes-knees]

Time in A Bottle (Agent Mobius x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.

Word Count: 1.8k

Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent. 

It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.

Unless you were Mobius, that is.

[09:45:00]

Technically, he shouldn't be here.

His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.

But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.

You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.

Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.

"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"That'd be great, thanks."

You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.

As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.

"How'd you know?"

"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.

You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.

Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.

Both a confidant, and a stranger.

"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.

"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.

Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.

"Good choice, this one's my favorite."

"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.

"I'm on the clock-"

"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."

[09:52:16]

"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.

It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"

"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."

"I think this one will stand out."

"What is the date, anyway?"

"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."

"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"

"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.

You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.

While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.

"So Mobius... like, from maths?"

"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.

Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.

"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."

"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"

"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"

Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.

"Or having pie in good company."

You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"

[09:59:06]

"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.

Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.

"How would you know that?"

"I just know things." He shrugged.

"Like what?" You challenged.

"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."

"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."

"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"

"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."

You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.

"What about me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.

"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."

[10:04:59]

The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.

Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.

The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.

"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.

Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.

"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."

"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."

"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"

You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.

"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."

"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."

Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.

He knew would see you again, always at 9:45.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Down By The Docks

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1810

This is inspired by another request, from an anon this time.

The idea is a '40's AU. I wasn't totally sure if that meant they wanted a story totally set in the 1940's or something that just didn't reference the war, or pretended the war wasn't on/our characters aren't involved in the war, so I just picked one.

Hope this is what you wanted anon!

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

Bucky Barnes was one of the best looking fellas Y/n had ever laid eyes on, of that he was sure. It was only his second day working down on the docks, but he was sure he could happily spend the rest of his life working this menial job if the view never changed.

He was always quick with a smile for a pretty dame or even, Y/n had noticed, a particularly handsome fella.

Y/n had thought for sure he had imagined seeing his 'impressing a pretty dame' smile aimed at the bloke who had delivered a sack of letters to the area they were working in.

He would have written it off as the heat getting to him if not for that very same smile being directed his way later that day while they were all sitting around eating their lunches.

None of the other's seemed to have picked up Bucky's brazen flirting with both genders, or maybe they just didn't care. That last one seemed pretty unlikely though.

Y/n just hiked up a brow at Bucky the second time he shot him that pretty smile. He had no idea what to do with that. It couldn't be helped that it was illegal to be that way, that was just the way of the world.

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

Y/n was sure that Bucky was trying to kill him.

He had shown up to work wearing his standard work wear. Just the worn whites and browns of clothes that had been washed too many times but that you couldn't afford to throw out yet.

It just wasn't fair that the day was particularly warm, so everyone had ended up stripped down to their pants. All those half naked male bodies glimmering with sweat, the noises they made unconsciously as they lifted boxes full of cargo and moved them to where they needed to go.

And right there, in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes. Poor Y/n had ended up being sent home from being 'affected by the sun'. It wasn't his fault dammit, Bucky had been parading around looking good enough to eat. Y/n was ashamed to find himself literally walking into poles and walls in his preoccupation with the half naked Bucky.

----------

Y/n sighed in relief. Tonight was going to be blessedly free of one Bucky Barnes, perpetual thorn in his gay side.

He was going out to a bar. It was an open secret that this particular bar was a gay bar. The cops in that area were happy to turn a blind eye to it largely because several of them were known regulars there.

That didn't mean you could just go about talking about it, or anything that went on inside it while you weren't there.

It was still illegal after all.

Y/n leaned back into his booth and sighed happily. A nice drink, some eye candy that wouldn't beat the crap out of him just for giving them the eye, and a little dancing ought to make his worries just float away.

Y/n had been looking forward to this all week.

Damn Barnes to hell and back.

Y/n moved over to the bar to order himself something silly. He was feeling the need for some ridiculousness tonight.

He had just taken his first sip of his drink when he spotted him. There he was, standing by the bar just a little ways down from Y/n, seemingly ordering a drink.

Y/n tried valiantly to not spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar. He had paid good money for that drink and he would be damned if he wasted it.

It didn't work very well. Some of it ended up coming out of his nose, and as he hacked up the parts of it that went down the wrong pipe to choke him, the rest dribbled down his chin.

'Well, that was attractive,' Y/n thought drily.

"Oh gosh, are you alright? Here, let me help."

Y/n turned watering eyes on the man addressing him.

He was met with a short blond who looked like a stiff wind could knock him over if he wasn't careful.

He was holding out a handkerchief and looking unsure of himself.

Y/n went to reassure the stranger that he was fine, but some small remaining part of the drink that hadn't been attempting to kill him before chose that moment to do so. Instead of words, he could only hack and cough, trying to get the liquid out of his lungs.

Y/n felt a hand on his back moving in firm circles, trying to help. He looked back over at the man to find him at his side frowning as he rubbed at Y/n's back.

When Y/n could finally speak properly he took the handkerchief, which had once again been offered, to clean his face of tears and spit and snot.

'Who'd have thought that alcohol burned so badly going into a person's nose and lungs?' Y/n thought disgustedly.

When he had cleaned himself up properly and turned back to his savior he suddenly realised he had no idea how to make this situation any less awkward.

The other man apparently had no such reservations.

"I'm Steve by the way. That looked pretty painful. Are you okay now?"

He was so earnest, and it didn't look like he was laughing at Y/n at all, so he could only nod vaguely.

"Yeah, I was just surprised by something. I'm Y/n, just so you know."

Y/n paused, feeling every bit as awkward as he ever had.

"Um, after that bit of excitement, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Murderous drinks aside it was nice meeting you. Can I clean this and bring it back here some time for you Steve?"

Y/n held up the thoroughly soaked handkerchief, cringing internally.

"Oh, don't worry about it, but are you sure you don't want to stay for a little bit longer? I'm here with my friend, but he's never very good company when there's dancing and alcohol involved."

Y/n mulled it over for a second, before manners kicked in.

"Yeah, no worries. I could stay for a bit longer, if only to save you from a lonely evening."

Steve's smile was sweet, but Y/n also couldn't detect anything else behind it. It didn't seem like he was trying to hit on Y/n, just that he didn't want to spend the night alone while his 'friend' danced the night away.

Y/n followed behind Steve as he led him over to the booth that Y/n had originally been sitting in.

Y/n stopped still at the sight of who was sitting across from Steve. Bucky dang-it-all-to-heck Barnes.

At their approach, Bucky turned away from the two women sitting with him in the booth. His handsome face lit up when he registered who it was standing in front of him.

"Stevie, there you are. I was starting to think you ditched me earlier than ever, but look what you found. I should bring you here more often."

Steve just gave Bucky a blank look.

Y/n couldn't blame him. If his 'good friend' had taken him out for a night of fun, he wouldn't have appreciated him looking at other guys that way either. He wasn't exactly backward in letting people know he was interested from the sounds of it.

Y/n stood awkwardly by the booth, not really sure if he should still be there. He had followed Steve to keep him company, but if it were him in Steve's shoes right now, he'd want him to leave.

"Um, I think I should probably head off actually."

Steve turned back to Y/n looking confused.

"Oh, well if you're sure. You don't have to stay if you don't want to of course."

Y/n refused to acknowledge the fact that Bucky was honest to goodness pouting. Was there anything in this world that was fair?

"Well, at least let me walk you out."

There would be no arguing apparently, as Bucky was already out of his seat and herding Y/n to the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Y/n barely managed to turn to yell to Steve as he was pulled away by the ever insistent Bucky.

Once they made it outside Bucky paused and turned to face Y/n.

"Hey."

Y/n turned to face him.

"Gotta say, I'm gettin' a bit confused here."

Y/n frowned but stayed silent.

"When we met at work I thought you were pretty cute, but you don't hit on people down by the docks if you wanna live to see the next sunrise, you know? But then you were always starin' an I thought, maybe you mighta been interested. Then that day you kept walkin' into things happened and I was pretty dang sure you were."

Y/n was blushing by now.

'Great so he did notice.'

"But then I see you here."

Bucky had moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking softer.

"An, no offense to Stevie, but he's not exactly every guys dream-boat. You know, I don't even think he knows this is a gay bar."

He broke off here to chuckle quietly. He was standing so close, he was practically pressing Y/n up against the wall of the bar.

"But then you're actin' all stand-offish. Like you can't even bare to look at me. So, what's a guy to think?"

Bucky seems to realise how this might be coming across and pulls away to give Y/n some room.

"Do I got a shot with you Y/n?"

Y/n had been floating somewhere dreamy with Bucky pressed up so close to him, but when he pulled away, reality came crashing down. How dare he ask questions like that when Steve was in there waiting for him to get back?

"You got some nerve Barnes. You can't just ask anyone out. Not when you got a fantastic guy like that waiting for you in there!"

"Fantastic guy? What-"

Y/n cut him off before he could sweet talk his way out of this.

"Steve! He's sweet, and kind and probably way too good for someone who flirts with everyone on the block!"

Bucky was laughing, which Y/n thought was way out of line.

"Wha, Y/n, Steve's just a friend. He don't even swing that way."

Y/n's face lit up with the brightest blush he had ever felt. He was sure he was going to actually self-combust before long.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So is that why you looked at me like that?"

He moved closer again, and when he spoke that damned silver tongue was back.

"I would never. When I'm with someone, they're the most important person in the world to me. Besides, how could I ever look my ma in the face again if I treated my partner like that?"

Y/n blushed fiercely.

"So whaddya say? Give me a shot?"

Y/n could only nod, face still a brilliant red.

[forgedroyalseal]

Latte Foam Art

Coffee shop au

It was typical to see at least one of Jenny’s friends behind the counter on weekends. She had a couple employees, but when the morning rush came in, it was still hard to keep up, especially if Jenny had baking to do. Will was the first of her friends to help out after jumping over the counter on one particularly crazy morning. Now he was everyone’s favorite barista and always made the best tips (though he did have a habit of chatting with the regulars for too long which resulted in the line going through the door. But his natural charm and puppy dog eyes always calmed even the most aggressive Karens). Alyss had beat Will to it that morning though. She was already behind the counter with a yellow apron tied around her waist and a matching handkerchief keeping her hair back by the time Will and Horace got to the cafe. So the boys just waved and planted themselves at the back booth that had a permit reserved sign on it. Jenny made sure from day one that no matter how busy the coffee shop got, her friends would always have a seat saved for them. They didn’t bother ordering, knowing that when things slowed down, Jenny would bring them out a sample of whatever her newest creation was. Both boy took out their laptops. Will was finishing a report and Horace was just screwing around, grateful he had practically zero paperwork, a perk to being told what to do and where to go by smarter people, like Will.

*******

After Will’s forth wistful sigh, Horace was ready to jump out of the large bay widow they were sitting in front of. After the sixth, he was ready to throw Will out of it.

“Just ask her out already!” Horace finally groaned and paused the video game he had been playing on his laptop.

Will actually had the audacity to look confused, “What are you talking about?”

“Alyss! You’ve been sending her heart eyes all morning.”

“Heart eyes?”

“You know, like the emoji.” Horace tried to imitate Will’s lovesick look, resting his chin on his hand and sighing dramatically.

“I have not been looking at her with heart eyes. I haven’t been looking at her at all!” Will protested.

Horace rolled his eyes. They had been hanging out at Jenny’s cafe all morning and Will had spent the entire time watching Alyss work behind the counter.

“She’d say yes you know.” Horace said gently. He knew his friend had always struggled with his self worth, a nasty side effect of being abandoned at a fire station as an infant and growing up in a group home. Horace was certain that part of the reason Will was so hesitant to admit his feeling for Alyss was because he didn’t think he was good enough for a girl like her. Which, if you asked Horace, was ridiculous. He loved Alyss like a sister, and he couldn’t think of a single man that would be better for her than Will. He couldn’t think of a better man in general to be honest.

“You don’t know that.” Will muttered, giving up on trying to convince Horace he didn’t have a thing for Alyss.

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do what?” Both boys looked up and saw Alyss standing in front of their table, two steaming mugs in her hands.

Will’s face turned red as he tripped over his words, “Oh, um, he- you know…”

Horace cut his stuttering off by saying, “Will was saying that it seems like I know everything someone could need to know about being a ranger, and I said of course I do. Because it’s not that hard.” He shot a cocky grin at Will, who narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Really?” Alyss rose an eyebrow.

“Apparently.” Will said dryly.

“Alright then…”Alyss was clearly not buying it, but didn’t care enough to press the matter. She set the mugs down in front of them. “I thought you two could us a refill. Jenny is trying out a new latte. She’s thinking about making it one of next month’s specials so she wants you to let her know what you think.”

“Will do.” Horace said and Alyss returned to the counter to take a next order.

Will watched her go and Horace laughed. He turned back to his friend. “Well, if I wasn’t sure that she’d say yes before, I certainly am now.” Horace nodded to Will’s mug. Alyss had made a heart out of the foam on the top of the latte.

“She was probably just practicing…”

“She didn’t practice on mine. Admit it dude, she likes you.”

Will didn’t say anything and Horace went back to the game he had paused. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Will try to discreetly take a photo of the latte.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape.