#but..... BUT.... IF I USE MY LUNCH MONEY FOR THE NEXT MONTH OR SO I MIGHT

[2truehearts]

hello dash can someone tell me that no, i do NOT need an ayato plushie please

[pears-trinkets]

.

[ms-demeanor]

So due to food allergies and other nonsense, the standard "we're out of..." grocery store pads aren't helpful for me - they have a ton of stuff if them that nobody in my house consumes and because I have to do my shopping at 3 stores the organization of the pads isn't terribly useful.

So I made my own as a whiteboard and stuck it on the fridge.

It's divided into 3 main categories: perishable foods, shelf-stable foods, and foods for specific individuals in the house.

All of us eat veggies and eggs and peanut butter, but large bastard is the only one who eats frozen pizza and sandwich rolls. All of us eat tofu and carrots, but I'm the only one who needs bread from a specific store and eats lunch meat.

This makes it easy for me to tell at a glance where shopping needs to be done (if I need a bunch of stuff then we have to go to trader Joe's, but if all we need are staples we can go to aldi; if we're low on a lot of pantry items but don't need any produce we can go to walmart).

The way that I put together the board is by figuring out the stuff that had most often necessitated a trip to the grocery store for just that one item. I can't tell you how many times I have started getting ready to cook and then had to run out and get onions because I forgot that we were out of onions.

Now if I'm down to one or two onions i put a dot on the board and the next time i go shopping i get onions. When i open the last bottle of tamari or bag of coffee, i put a dot on the board.

It's also a really handy list to have while getting ready to shop because we can stand in front of it and use it as a reminder to *check* what we're low on. Do we need milk? Open the fridge and figure out if we'll run out before the next time we go shopping. Does tiny bastard need more peas to reward her for taking her insulin? Open the freezer before we gather up the shopping bags to find out.

Then it's super easy to take a photo and go shopping, and when we get back to erase the dots for stuff we got but leave the dots for stuff from another store or that was out of stock.

I've been using system for a few months now and it has been very helpful for preventing food waste and for reducing the number of trips we take to the grocery store, both of which save us money.

It's made out of a small whiteboard (about 9x14 inches) that i glued magnets to. The list items are written in permanent marker and the dots are dry erase marker. I put dots in the center of the boxes because if you overlap permanent marker with dry erase, it will wear away the permanent marker.

Anyway. This system has helped me, maybe it will be helpful for other folks as well.

[ham1lton]

the talk.

pairing: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister!reader.

format: mixed media smau.

summary: when o/s asked you to apologise to lando she did not expect for you to start dating him? you decide to break the news over lunch at her favourite restaurant. we’ll see how that goes…

author's note: your favourite sisters on the grid are back! the baddest bitches. also you all voted on giving o/s a bf so keep an eye out for that. if you’re confused on the addition of o/s’s bff - read party in the u.s.a. for more clarification!

— part of the nepo sister universe —

liked by oldersister, oldersisterbff and 367,691 others.

yourusername: beachtime!! also someone needs to teach those girls in the second slide some manners…. nasty 😒

oldersister: you’re just jealous.

-> oldersisterbff: she doesn’t understand us pookie bear….

-> yourusername: sometimes it shocks me that you’re both older than me and also considered as the best in your respective fields….

user7: the beach designs are so cute!!

user1: what i would give to have o/s gently put her leg over my arm…

-> user2: what i would give to gently put my leg over o/s/bff’s arm…

user8: you think you’re so slick with the soft launch…

-> oldersister: omg i almost didn’t see it…

-> yourusername: THANKS A LOT user8 😒

-> user8: my bad bae 😩‼️

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

DINNER TRANSCRIPT BETWEEN OLDER SISTER L/N AND Y/N L/N

-> as detailed and described to her boyfriend LANDO NORRIS.

Y/N (monologue): so to start, i obviously allowed her to take us to a restaurant that she liked to get her in a good mood. i even get there early. i’m all ready, let be rephrase, i was all ready and early, when my sister walked in. she already was mad so i got a start on ordering my food so she’d have to pay the bill.

LANDO: you and your free dinners.

Y/N: keep talking and you’ll fund my ubereats for the next month. this is a monologue lando.

LANDO: got it babe. mouth zipped. no more words.

Y/N: okay so she sits down and gives me a glare. i’m like ‘oh my beautiful amazing sister who funds my eating habits. i wonder how i have annoyed you on this glorious day’.

Y/N as O/S: stop talking shit and tell me who you’re dating.

Y/N: oh no! my sweet glorious sister! i can’t tell you that! you might cut me off your credit card!

Y/N as O/S: i would never do that. i am a fair and sweet sister. i love you y/n and i will give you a lot of money to prove this.

Y/N: oh thank you! love you. then that’s the part where we hugged it out.

LANDO: has anyone ever told you that you should go into acting babe?

Y/N: yes! you think i have a future in it?

LANDO: yes! now tell me what really happened.

Y/N: i said i was dating you. she spat out her drink and started choking on something. we had to call the ambulance and take her to the hospital. she woke up and thought it was a nightmare. then i told her, she vomited and she fainted. to be honest…. i was expecting it to worse. that’s pretty tame. i think she likes you!

————————————————————————

liked by rollingstone, user67 and 1,283,892 others.

oldersister: thank you to rolling stone for photographing me as a part of their front cover. being interviewed in my own home seemed daunting but it was so seamless and fun.

we talked about betrayal, fashion and navigating being a barrier breaker. go read the full article on rolling stone’s website or in the physical march copy!

oldersisterbff: my best friend is so hot and sexy i love you 😍

-> oldersisterbff: hot, sexy and smart? what can’t you do bae?

-> oldersister: lots of things. like ending climate change.

-> oldersisterbff: i think you could 🤷🏼‍♀️

user17: yourusername hasn’t liked this… um…

-> user72: she doesn’t have to like every one of o/s’s post. you forget she actually sees her sister in person.

user455: i love listening to her thoughts. she’s so intelligent i love it.

-> user12: she has two degrees! one she got and an honorary one!

-> user23: unlike lando. does he even have his gcses?

-> user89: stop comparing the two lol. both of them have complained about how annoying it is.

-> user23: comparison is a part of the job. get over it.

user61: she’s so hot. need her sooo bad actually.

rollingstone: we loved having you o/s as our cover girl!

-> oldersister: i loved being your cover girl!

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

liked by oldersisterbff, yourbff and 308,727 others.

yourusername: my bitch pose is NAYYYSSTY…don’t ever play with the cat…. that ELBOWWW…

landonorris: when you said you were hard launching me… this isn’t what i was expecting tbh.

-> yourusername: u look cute mwah 😘

-> landonorris: i’ll take anything you give me stink 🤤🤤

oldersister: just vomited actually…. trigger warning next time please.

-> oldersisterbff: i’m omw babe.

-> oldersister: hurry i can feel the light fading from my eyes…

-> yourusername: BOOOOOO!!! you are not florence pugh.

user56: is this the betrayal o/s was talking about in the rolling stone interview??? she’s so dramatic lmaoooo.

oldersister: this is your man?

-> yourusername: yesss 😍😍😍

-> landonorris: hey sister in law 😁

-> oldersister: blocked for harassment.

-> landonorris: NOOOOOOO 😭

user73: how she a nepo baby twice. got f1 connections through her sister and her boyfriend?

-> user89: not how nepotism works tbh….

user67: he looks so goofy lmaooo.

-> yourusername: good keep thinking that. more for me.

-> user67: girl i want you not him 😭

-> landonorris: nuh uh 🙄👎🏼 you can’t have her user67.

————————————————————————

taglist: @23victoria @luckyladycreator2 @mxdi0 @booksandflowrs @charlesleclercsonlywife @molten-m122 @casperlikej @nichmeddar @decafmickey @evie-119 @ironmaiden1313 @d3kstar (wanna be removed? send an ask!)

— wanna be tagged in any future works? join my taglist! —

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

At This Hour

Jonathan Levy x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 24: On the counter

Summary: You look after Ava while Jonathan goes out on a date.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing and being so lovely! <3

Warnings: neighbour!reader, mentions of the reader liking horror films/Terrifier, reader also has a cat, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2554

Jonathan knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just can’t help himself. 

The date had been a bad one, pointless in fact. He should have ducked out after the first ten minutes, no five. 

But he’d stayed and now it was nearly twelve fucking am by the time he got home. He should really go to bed. Get some sleep. 

Instead, he was talking to you, and drinking coffee. Oh, three am him was going to be pissed.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” Jonathan pushes his glasses higher. “Please, you got to let me give you some money.”

You shake your head, raising your hand, “Oh, no, no, no, you letting me pinch your netflix and amazon password for the last four months is more than enough.”

He chuckles, fiddling with his mug, “Yeah, but that’s just being neighbourly.” 

You scoff. “It is not, Jonathan.” 

Your friendship had started about seven months ago, when Jonathan had taken in a grand total of eight parcels from fedex on your, and your roommates, behalf in one day.

After collecting them, you’d apologised profusely, and baked him a banana cake. Panicking when you gave it to him that a, you didn’t actually know if he was allergic to anything, and b, that he actually liked bananas. 

Luckily he did.

Your friendship had grown when his car wouldn’t start one morning, and you’d given him a lift to work on your moped and picked him up after. Plus you’d got your friend’s cousin’s, uncle’s ex-colleague to have a look at his car and sort out the problem. 

He’d bought you lunch and looked after your cat if you had to go out of town. You watched his daughter if he had to work late on the days he had her. 

Originally, this hadn’t been his weekend to have Ava, hence why he had a date. A very, very bad date. 

“Come on,” he smiled at you, that horrible brilliantly blinding smile that leaves you weak at the knees, “usually you’re just with her for what, forty five minutes? An hour, this was nearly four.” 

You giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t just politely leave.”

“I am a man of faults.” 

You laugh harder, “Look, I like Ava, we watched a series of R rated horror films and I made sure she ate her weight in sugar without brushing her teeth.” 

He grins. “I’m sure I would have had a better time with you guys here.”

You shrug, “Well, you can join us next time. We’re going to watch Terrifier.” You tease.

“Ugh,” he shudders, “Don’t tell me you like those kinds of films?” 

You can’t stop from smiling at his dramatic reaction. “What? You don’t?” 

He pulls a face and you giggle.

“They’re fun!”

“They are not.” He takes a sip of his cooling coffee, trying to nurse it as long as he could.

“They are.”

“All blood and guts.” He screws up his face, putting it on a bit for you.

“But the prosthetics! Plus it’s not real.” You say playfully. 

“Freaky.” He shakes his head. “Too much for my old heart.” 

You snort. “Jonathan.”

“What?” He smiles.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” 

“You just want me to tell you how young you are.” You rest your chin on your hand as you look at him.

He pauses and then nods rapidly, “I do actually, and you have to, it’s the social contract.” 

You giggle, “Well, I’m not.” 

“That's unfair.” He says in mock outrage, making you laugh harder. 

“Fine,” you hold up your hands, “You’re very handsome.” 

He pauses, looking at you for a moment. “I said you had to tell me I was young, not beautiful.” He teases, expecting you to throw a comment back at him immediately. 

But instead, you pause. For a moment, it’s almost funny how you freeze. 

“I…” You swallow, your mouth dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It’s okay,” he quickly covers, “I’m just teasing, it’s fine.” 

You smile weakly, your skin burning. You get up quickly, nearly knocking your mug over in the process. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sorry, I, erm,” you pick up your mug, and then his, “Let me, erm, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” 

You turn before he even has a chance to say anything, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the mugs on the counter.

Jonathan stands quickly, calling your name, “Hey, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry,” anxiety cuts into his chest, leaving his ribs bare. He walks behind you, accidentally bumping into you as you turn. 

“Sorry,” he grabs your arm to steady you and himself, his heart thudding so hard in his temples he’s sure he’s going to burst a blood vessel. 

You glance at his eyes nervously, breathing hard. “I…”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He says softly. He should put his hand down, stop touching your arm. “I was just teasing.” 

You nod, “I know, I… I’m sorry.” Your insides squirm a little, trying to find a way out to escape this awkwardness. 

“Don’t be,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “It’s always nice when someone beautiful calls you handsome.”

Your brain glitches, static for a moment, rebooting.  

“Beautiful?” You repeat.

“Beautiful.” His mouth says before he has any say in the matter. “And kind, and funny, and wond-”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeply. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the counter.

It takes him a moment to catch up with his body, to figure out this is actually real, not some well used fantasy he plays out behind his eyes in the shower. 

You pull lightly at his hair, moaning softly when he licks into your mouth and pushes his legs between yours. He rocks against you, his cock quickly hardening in his trousers as he presses against the seam of your jeans. 

Part of him wants to pull back, to not push things, to not rush. But the much louder voice in his head laments at how long he’s been holding back, how long he’s been thinking of you while touching himself with a lubed hand. 

You gasp as he kisses along your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks at your pulse point greedily. God, if he could just get you to make that noise one more time.

“Jonathan,” you moan softly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling on his shoulders, needing to rid the fraction of space between you.

He growls, nipping at your neck and nearly coming on the spot when he hears how needily you call his name. “Can I take these off?” His words are nearly lost with how he sucks on your skin, barely able to move his mouth back more than a centimetre. He pulls at your top, your trousers and you nod hastily. 

His groan at your confirmation makes you shiver. He practically tears your clothing from you, pushing and pulling the material away as if it personally offended him, before he hikes your right leg up around his waist and urges you up onto the counter. 

He sucks your breasts into his mouth greedily, quickly going from one to another, like a child in a toy store unable to choose his favourite. While he presses his thumb to your clit and strokes his fore and middle fingers through your folds. 

He groans deeply at the wetness he finds, rocking against you as he pushes inside. 

You gasp, biting down on your lip to keep yourself vaguely quiet as you cling onto his shoulders with one hand and the counter with the other. 

He strokes gently, pressing rhythmically against your walls as he toys with your clit and you sob, practically clinging onto him for dear life.

Pleasure builds dizzyingly fast in your belly, threatening to pull you down with every stroke. You moan in his ear, lightheaded, just about gathering yourself together to whimper his name. You weren’t prepared for this utter onslaught, for him to be so determined to pull you apart piece by piece. 

Spikes of sensation buzz along your skin, twisting and building. 

“You’re going to make me come,” you sob, shocked at how quickly your body is ready to fall apart. 

“Fuck yes,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your collar bone before he licks up your neck back to your lips. It’s hot and wet and messy, his tongue in your mouth to quiet your sobs  as you pulse and gasp, coming violently around his fingers. 

You shake in his grip, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. He works you through it, stroking and pumping until you feel like liquid in his hands. 

“God,” he groans, kissing your forehead and breathing hard. He takes his fingers out of you slowly and shoves them in his mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste. 

When you manage to pull back a fraction to look at him, you can see his glasses have steamed up. You giggle and he grins around his fingers, taking them out with a pop to kiss you. 

You run your hands through his hair, shivering as he presses close once more. 

“Do you?” He starts at the same moment you speak - “Can I?”

He chuckles, nodding for you to go first. 

“Take these off.” You mutter, pulling at his jumper. He moves back a fraction, letting you pull it over his head and snorting when his glasses get caught in the neckline. He whips them off, placing them on the side, his curls wild. 

Jonathan bites his lip as you unbuckle his jeans, helping you by undoing his fly.

“Can I fuck you?” He groans, kissing your cheek and jaw, each glide of his tongue makes your body sing. 

“Please.” 

He growls, barely pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs before he’s taking his heavy cock in hand and pumping himself a few times. 

You take a cheeky look down and bite your lip. 

He grins, “Like what you see?” 

The line would make you giggle in any other situation, but now your mouth is watering. You nod rapidly. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, spitting in his hand, “So that’s what makes you lost for words, I get it.” He smears his saliva over the head of his cock before he presses closer, guiding the tip to your folds. 

“You’re really-” You whine, gasping as he notches at your entrance and just glides inside. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your body bucking unthinkingly as he pushes deeper. 

He groans deeply, sighing like this is his first drink of water after a long hot day. He slides his hands to your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he eases in.

“Jonathan,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, fuck, you’re so tight.” He lightly rocks his hip, sheathing himself in the last few inches. 

You whine, licking into his mouth when he kisses you hungrily. He thrusts experimentally, easing out a fraction before he pushes back in. 

“How do you like it?” He mutters against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. 

“I don’t mind,” you manage to say, your voice barely there. 

He snorts, moving one of your legs to wrap around his waist again as he takes hold of your hips in a firm grip. “Tell me if you want something.” He groans, pulling out and then plunging back in. “Want to make you come again.” 

You nearly shriek, throwing your head back and managing, somehow, to keep your voice muffled as he sets a brutal pace. 

He bucks into you rapidly, shaking the cutlery on the drainer by the sink with every deep thrust. The toaster jumps with every buck of his hips into yours. The sound of your slick echoing as you coat his cock.

“You look so fucking hot when you come,” he groans. “So fucking wet.” He pounds into you, sweat beading in his hairline, the way you grab at him and whine setting his blood ablaze. 

His pubic bone smacks against your clit with every thrust, his cock rolling against your walls and pushing impossibly deeper. 

Something in you wants to break, needs to snap and flood out as he keeps rhythm, your body moving in time with his desperately. 

You bite at his neck, sucking a love bite into his skin and shivering when he tenses and growls. He pulls you back a fraction with one hand on your jaw, his eyes so dark, and licks into your mouth like you hold the secrets of the universe. 

You whimper, so needy for anything he’ll give - and he’ll give you everything. 

Pleasure pulses in your core, makes your pussy flutter and you’re so close you can taste the sweetness on your tongue. 

“Jonathan!”

“You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a nice creamy mess?” He groans, his balls tightening. “Want to feel you, please.” 

You gasp, sobbing silently as your orgasm is ripped from you. Pleasure explodes along your nerves, wiping out any other thought as he drowns you and revives you in the same instant. 

“Shit.” Jonathan’s hips stutter, his mouth open as your walls squeeze and suck him deeper, milking him for every single drop. He comes with a deep groan, emptying rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside. 

He clings onto you as he finishes, hazy for a moment with the strength of his orgasm. 

You breathe hard, he can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

Lightly he sucks on your neck, licking the salt from your skin. He kisses your temple. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a week.” You tease, exhausted, and he chuckles.

“I’ll wait on you hand and foot while you recover.” He smiles when you look up at him, stroking your cheek as he kisses you softly, reverently. 

“Honestly, was that alright?” He mutters, a pang of worry settling under his ribs.

You snort, and kiss him deeply, stroking your fingers through his beard. “Fucking amazing.” 

He grins. “Do you want to do it again sometime? Maybe in a bed after I’ve bought you dinner? I’ll even watch that Terrifier film with you.” 

You giggle and nod. “I’d like that.” 

He tries to help you down, but you end up helping him. His jeans have twisted around his calves and he nearly falls to a heap on the floor. 

“My hero,” he mutters as you pull them off and kiss his thigh. “We’re lucky Ava didn’t wake up when we were… can you imagine me falling over is the thing that actually wakes her? She’ll need therapy for years after seeing her dad naked on the kitchen floor with his jeans around his ankles.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to stop your fit of laughter and he grins as he helps you back to your feet.

“I love hearing you laugh.” He lightly touches your cheek. “Do you want to take a shower?” He gives you a cheeky smile. “With me? You can stay over… if you want, I mean. No pressure.” 

You smile and nod. “I’d like a shower. With you. And sleep over.” 

He grins, wrapping his arms around you. 

Thank you for reading!

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[fuckingrecipes]

My biggest hangup with cooking vegetables with my dinners is that it’s impossible to purchase one portion of most veggies. Like, eating by myself, I’ll never need an *entire* sliced onion, or whatever number of veggies get bundled into one purchase, like a bag of green beans. How can I work around this so I’m not wasting money by using half a product and then letting the rest go bad?

2 things.

First: Do you have access to refrigeration?

If you have a fridge, you can put the green beans in the fridge to prolong their life.

If you have a fridge, you can cook enough food for 3-4 meals and then before sitting down to eat your portion of dinner, put the extra meals in an airtight-sealed storage container in the fridge so you can eat it for lunch tomorrow & dinner the next day.

Most cooked food is good for like, 4-5 days in the fridge. Having leftovers available means I don't have to cook tomorrow, I can just scoop some into a bowl, put the rest back, and reheat what's in my bowl using a microwave or stovetop pan.

If you don't have access to refrigeration, come back and we'll talk about options.

--

Second: "I’ll never need an entire sliced onion"

..... wwwwwwhaet? Hi, my name's bewilderment, nice to meet you. What on earth are you talking about?

Eating an entire onion is fine. You're allowed. Onions are tasty. You can also eat raw onion on salads, tacos, & various other shit.

I've never encountered a casual dinner recipe that could be ruined by cooking a whole onion instead of half of one.

You're allowed to eat a meal that's just a huge pile of cooked onions & green beans with spices on it. It's great. There are no food cops that will materialize at your door to stop you.

You're also allowed to eat just an entire can of green beans as a meal, or just a whole bag of carrots.

You're also allowed to cook your whole sliced onion, and use some of the cooked slices in tonight's meal, and store half of the cooked onion in the fridge to drop into a noodle dish tomorrow night.

You can also cut the onion in half, use half of it tonight, and half of it tomorrow. Leftover raw ingredients are also an option.

--

I guess I'm a little confused why you're holding on to produce and not eating it - or you're buying so much produce that you can't eat it all in 1 week.

Fresh produce should get priority when choosing what to eat. If there's fresh veggies & fruit available, every meal should include some.

Stir Frying uses a lot of fresh veggies all at once, so is a good option if you need to quickly use it up.

There's loads and loads and loads of vegetable-heavy recipes available online. Write down what ingredients you have a lot of and look for recipes that include them.

Making SOUP can also use basically ALL your remaining veggies, if they're reaching the end of their lifespan. Soup broth can be frozen for months.

You can also chop a bunch of veggies into itty bitty bits, dump the whole pile into pan with some oil, fry until they start to change color & soften, then dump in a can of diced tomatoes & a shitload of herbs and spices to make Sauce to use.

For the rest of the week, all you need to do is cook some noodles, meat, or hell - bigger chunks of vegetables!

--

If you have a hard time remembering when a vegetable might go bad, or keep forgetting you have a vegetable so it sits in the fridge till it rots - stick a whiteboard to your fridge, with a dry-erase marker.

Write the NAME of the veggies and the DATE you put them in, and the DATE you need to eat it before.

When figuring out what to cook check that list and pick 1-2 of the oldest veggies so you can use them up before they go bad.

--

If the problem is forgetting your veggies exist when they're out of sight in the bottom drawers of the fridge, then don't put them in there!

For a long time, I put most of my veggies in the little shelves on the fridge door, and put all my sauces in the bottom drawers, so I could immediately see all my produce every time I opened the fridge.

--

My advice boils down to:

Eat larger amounts of vegetables.

Eat vegetables with more meals.

Seek out recipes that use them, if you don't know what to do with what you've got.

Use refrigeration to prolong the life of both raw ingredients and leftovers.

Make and Eat Leftovers.

Keep track of your produce better so you know what's more likely to spoil soon & can eat it before the bacteria do.

[angelcakestarlet]

salvatore

richie jerimovich x reader - richie makes carmy regret hiring the cute young waitress

wrote dis quick, messy, nd did not look over it but enjoy! :>

"so um look, natalie is going to be training you this week alright" carmy informs you as he sifts through a pile of papers scattering his desk. "you ever serve before?", "for a few months yeah, it's been getting me through college so" you twiddle your thumbs nervously. the restaurant was certainly... intimidating? going to school in chicago you had stopped by a couple times for lunch or drunk off your ass after the club. even while slurring your words you could remember how fucking good that sandwich was. even if most of it was puked up in the bushes out front.

"yo, cousin!" an abrasive voice comes stumbling through carmy's office door without warning, "sugar is out here telling me some bullshit about you hiring servers? look we don't need that shit. a sandwich comes out i fucking hand it to them, boom. why are you gonna pay some dipshit to do it for me?". you turn around to face the loud voice, being met with a tall, tan, buzzcut typical line cook with a deep accent. "jesus fucking christ, one of these 'dipshits' is standing in front of you richie." carmy yells back, obviously pained to have you witness that. "ah shit-" richie steps back to get a full length view of you, taking you in. his gaze felt like an intrusion. "i'm sorry, doll, richie jerimovich." he envelopes your hand in his calloused and rough one, introducing himself. "you know what i'm sorry, cousin, anyone with a set of eyes would hire her too" he snickers, with his hand still atop yours he takes his eyes away from you to acknowledge carmen. "cousin, get the fuck out, you fucking creep!" signaling for the door. "oh my god" richie sighs dramatically, "i'm stating the fucking obvious alright, you need marcus to come in here to tell you the same thing? yo, marcus!" carmen rushes to shove richie out the door, "i'm sorry, i couldn't help myself! look, you're beautiful, sweetheart!" he lets out one last compliment. you giggle to yourself and the man making a spectacle of himself.

carmen shuts the office door and sighs, rubbing his forehead with his tired hand. "i'm sorry, he's... he's a fucking jagoff." you appreciate the apology, but having worked in a restaurant has you accustomed to the snickers and comments from line cooks and customers alike. most of the girls usually brush it off, leaving them disgusted and a distaste for the job for the next few hours. but, your guilty pleasure has become using it to your benefit. free food from cooks, more money from tips, etc. you're sure you could work richie to your benefit just the same. "don't worry about it, he seems... nice" your ease settles carmy and he snickers, "you could say that i guess".

you follow natalie around the restaurant for the next few hours as she takes you through the front of the house and back, introducing you to everyone and all the standards. when five o clock hits, she lets you go, handing you an apron, a t-shirt. and a name tag. thanking her and setting out to find the back alley for a quick ciggy. you find richie lighting a cigarette in the dimly lit alley, "can i bum a cigarette?" you sit down beside him, smelling the smoke clinging to his shirt. "its your first day and you're asking me for shit?" he looks over at you and you notice his evident wrinkles, veins in his neck, and tired eyes. "pretty please?" you look up at him, turning your whole body to face him with a sweet smile on your face. he rolls his eyes playfully, "you know what you're doing huh?" he says as he pulls one more cigarette from its box. "open." you scrunch your eyebrows, confused at his request. his eyes shift to your lips, taking two fingers and tapping your cheek signaling for you to open your mouth. "come on," you separate your lips and he places a cigarette between them, lighting it swiftly. you feel your cheeks get warm, from the cigarette or from his words you don't know (yes you do). "thank you" you say quietly, still stunned a bit. "you know you're gonna ruin that sweet face smoking" he coughs through the lit cigarette. "oh are you telling me what to do now, richie?" you lean back, eyes entranced by the way his hands make the cigarette almost look like a lollipop stick. "a girl like you is probably looking for someone to tell her what to do, sweetheart". as you're trying to figure out whether that just pissed you off or turned you on, carmy bursts through the back door. "cousin, what the fuck are you doing?! we need you in the kitchen, now please! and leave the new girl alone, jesus" carmy yells as richie stomps on what's left of his cigarette and puts his hands up in defense. "i'm coming, fuck off. it was a pleasure, babe" he shakes your hand and makes his way inside. you peer at the closed door, listening to the muffled argument carmy and richie have in front of it. great first day.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

[romaniacs]

▌ㅤYU JIMIN — CATCH ME, I'M YOUR DISEASE

( read more ) synopsis — you might not know much, but one thing's clear: yu jimin is the one you want, the pretty girl who's been risking her life on a motorcycle for years. but, surprisingly, getting her to teach you how to ride is a two-way deal. warnings — female reader x motorcycle racer yu jimin headcanons, a little bit suggestive at times, fluff. text in bold is jimin's. inspired by this + this racer i love.

yu jimin has been motorcycle racing for years

and you've been watching her for a while

you look up to her so much that you get a motorcycle too

and you know she loves money

so you pay her to teach you how to ride and give you tips

she doesn't want more competition, but she's down for it

and deep down ( not at all ) she thinks you're cute

so she's there every saturday, making herself free for you

and in the first month, she notices you're a bit… clueless

in a way she finds endearing

you're not very experienced with motorcycles

so you're not being wise at all by wanting to race

but jimin is very patient with you

"you can't let your calves touch this or it'll burn you, okay?

they're called exhaust pipes. and they're evil"

"okay" you say. and you go and get burnt and cry

and jimin takes care of you so well whenever it's needed

because you burn yourself on that so many times

but she won't scold you for your mistakes

"no need to be scared, alright? just be more careful next time

because the faster you go, the harder it burns"

while she's explaining things to you, you tend to look down

and your hair sometimes falls around your face

and so she places it behind your ear

"look at me when i'm talking to you"

"sorry, it's just- it's easier to process things if i don't"

"hm? why?" she frowns

"you distract my brain cells a bit. they really like your face"

jimin loses count of how many times you make her chuckle

when she takes you for a ride, you keep yourself glued to her

"don't squeeze me like that, silly, i won't let you fall"

and when you squeeze her anyway, she holds your hand

the tightest one around her waist, and just keeps it in hers

"i'm telling you, you won't fall off the bike,

you just need to get used to the speed.

believe me, i don't wanna get you killed"

her voice through the helmet has you feeling things

her fastening yours for you does too

her holding onto your waist when you ride is just… too much

and she won't even take your money by the end of the month

nor will she let you race without making sure you're ready

and jimin will never let you skip your meals

"i usually just skip lunch, it's alright"

"but i bought you kimchi. i gotta keep you healthy"

and she'll have you squinting and blushing

"it's raining" she says on the phone one day. "we can't practice"

"ah, it's okay"

"you can come over, though. if you want. i can give you tips"

you're so in, and you take soju bottles with you

… on your motorcycle

and then she scolds you

because you're supposed to avoid riding in the rain

and you're sorry, and her worry makes your mood go down

so she starts speaking softly with you

then, when you get drunk, she thinks you're even cuter

when you play with the hem of her shirt, she melts

when you kiss her cheek, she feels stupid ( butterflies )

and time goes by so fast

jimin tucks you in her bed and attempts to sleep on the couch

it's late. so late. but drunk you would never let her sleep there

"i have no teddy bear. be mine. be my jimin bear"

she's overall so respectful and avoids being touchy with you

but she settles this time, being a bit tipsy as well

and she loves it. hugging you to sleep. you on her bed

it makes her feel so peaceful

and it's strange, the next day. because you're gone so early

when it's nighttime again, she feels empty

she calls you after pondering for a while

"can we practice tomorrow?" jimin asks

"we have nothing scheduled but… it'd be really fun"

"sure" you agree sweetly, calmly, but you feel beyond happy

that's what you wanted — to be close to her like that

she laughs so easily around you, despite her usually cold look

and when she fastens your helmet now, something's different

you sit on her bike, and she places herself between your legs

and lets her hands rest on them once she's done

and does this every other tutoring day

jimin starts dropping you off and picking you up from work

just to take you to her place after your shift's over

so you can drink and unwind together

and you're always together now

she keeps herself as close as she can for the helmet part

it's cute, the way you look at her every time

and thank her and fasten hers for her too

it's so cute she eventually gets lost in that. your look

"you're staring hard, ma'am" you point out

"start looking ugly then"

and you just chuckle. "you think i look good?"

"that's an understatement. but sure" jimin finally lets out

your breath catches in your throat and you're nervous

absolutely nervous all of a sudden, her eyes locked on yours

"can i kiss you?" her voice is low… your stomach drops lower

but you don't even reply, taking your helmet off

and you finally do as you please. and she pleases

and you pull her by her jacket

and kiss her with all the feelings you've been holding in

… which are many. strong ones. and fuck is all she can go

to leave a woman like jimin breathless you must be either god

or you. and both options give her heaven

you taste as sweet as you are

and kissing her feels as good as biting into a ripe cherry

tasty, the best kiss you've ever tried

and you're so lucky, you know you are

to be under the touch of such a godly woman

sitting on her motorcycle, biting her lip

and being worth everything to her

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[flowerfreya]

Best 3/4

Part 9 of the office AU

Masterlist

The boys figured that they need to lay off reader and the best way to do that is to back with their ex (boys are dumb)

Pairing : Poly!141 x reader

A/n: sorry there’s a lot of Simon x reader , he’s my comfort character and my fav trope is I har everyone but you and he gives that so much. I’m not the best writer so I have trouble with flow sometimes so bare with me

You’ve been working for 141 industries for about 2 months now, it’s nice to have your own. Own money, your own car, and your own apartment. You think that the boys have gotten back with their ex, and that is making you feels some things that if you didn’t care you shouldn’t feel.

Their ex only seems to like all of them except for Simon , he seems almost like an afterthought to her. She rolls in the office, always leaves the front door open and just waltzes into John’s office , without even an ask to see if he’s in a meeting.

“I’m sorry ,he’s in a mee-”, she interrupts you with a wave and a fake smile, goes in and shuts the door and closes the blinds. You huff out a breath and look up to see Simon staring at you , letting out a small shrug. Simon and you both stand up, it’s lunch time. Everyday at the same time , you get up and eat lunch , whether that is in the breakroom or getting something to eat at a fast food place. Simon started joining you a little over two weeks ago, you noticed that Simon doesn’t really bring lunch just eats shit out of the vending machine.

You started making and packing extra food for him.

“I have extra food today, if you want some”, you sit down at the same table next to him.

“`M good”, as he opens a bag of chips.

“Please just eat, I always make too much food”, shoving the food towards him. He gives you a look and you give him a small smile and nod your head towards the food.

“So, how long have you guys been dating”, you wave your hand in a you know who gesture.

He makes a hum noise, “who?”

“The women in Price’s office” .

“Oh,I guess our girlfriend”.

“She doesn’t seem to like to hang out with you”

“Yeah, well I’m not the best guy”.

“I beg to differ”, you think that Simon is the nicest guy you’ve met. He helped you when he really didn’t have too and likes to eat lunch with you and appreciates your food too.

You hear a shrill , “Receptionist”,she can’t even remember your name. She kind of slaps the table like she’s hitting a bell. You see her just standing there , waiting for you.

“Yes”

“I need you to clear John’s schedule for tomorrow afternoon”

You turn to look at John in office with the door shut, focused on his computer,”Uhh does John now about this”, you question.

“Of course, sweetie”, she is using her fake customer voice , you know because you are using it too.

“ I think, I’m going to ask him , just in case”, you start to move in the direction of his office. No way he really wants to clear his schedule, you’ve never seen him take lunch. A whole afternoon off, no way.

You knock as you push the door open, “Hi, Mr.Price, just trying to fig-”,

“Not now”.

“Oh well I was-”

He looks up then with a harsh brown and a closed mouth speaking through his teeth , “Not now”.

It shocks you, he’s never talked to you like that but you have been talked to like that a lot. Your natural response is to quiet down and get out the way. You quietly back out the room and sit back down at your desk.

You look up at her still waiting for you to clear the schedule, “I guess it’s fine”

“Wonderful” , she has such a wide smile and is so pretty. You think you hate her.

“Opps almost forgot”, she walks to Soap and gives him a big kiss and you can definitely see tongue. You want to look away but you can’t help it , it’s enticing. She lets out a little giggle and wipes her mouth and then saunters out the door.

Simon is sitting there, no kiss received, and is staring at you.

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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[dotster001]

Those are the Eyes...

Summary: Jack Howl x gn! Reader. Jack discovers a new magic that will finally free you from those who wish to use you. (It's not that serious. He's just being Jack)

CW: Crowley is an ass, but what else is new, silly fic, nothing serious

This fic was sponsored, for the Fics for Gaza Project! Find out how you can sponsor a fic here.

Jack was sick of you getting pulled into terrible situations by your other friends. When the two of you had started dating, he had hoped he would have a little more sway when it came to your decisions of whether to listen to an ADeuce idea or not, but he had had no such luck so far. 

And it wasn't just them. You were too kind to everyone in this school often at the expense of your own well being.

"Y/N! We haaaave to add more money to the tuna budget."

You looked exasperated. "Grim, I've already told you, we've put all the money we can into the tuna budget."

Grim pouted and crossed his arms. "Do we really need to fix the stairwell this month? I think it's fine the way it is."

It wasn't. Honestly, Ramshackle should have been condemned in the shape it was in.

"Yes, Grim, we really do," you sighed.

Grim suddenly held a paw to his forehead. "Oh! The Great Grim feels faint!" He fell backwards and whimpered. "I'm starving because of my cruel Hench human. I may die right here."

"You're not starving Grim, your tuna budget is fine," Jack finally cut in. But when he looked over at you, he could see that you were going to cave.

And then it happened. It came from deep down inside of him, like a second unique magic. His pupils expanded, his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and his bottom lip stuck out in a little pout.

Suddenly, the look on your face changed. You looked at him with concern.

"Aw, c'mon Jack, don't give me those puppy dog eyes!"

But his face held his expression, and now his tail was drooping for good measure. "It would just tear me up inside if you weren't able to live in a safe environment, Y/N."

That did it for you. You placed your hands on his cheeks and hastily exclaimed, "If it means that much to you, I won't change the tuna budget." You hugged him and nuzzled into his chest whispering a "sorry". Which was fine, because it meant you didn't see his tail wagging up a storm.

He had thought maybe it was a fluke. But after running a few experiments, he realized you were weak for what you called his "puppy dog eyes". No longer could Ace get you to paint the roses for him. No longer could Ruggie get you to give him some of your lunch for nothing. No longer could Grim guilt you into buying more tuna than you needed. Finally, the two of you didn't have to play parents to everyone and you could spend time together.

But with great power comes great responsibility.

He was sitting in Azul's office, sizing him up across the desk.

"What did you want from me?" He asked finally.

Azul gestured dramatically. "There's a rumor going around that you can make a certain prefect do whatever you want."

He snapped his fingers and Jade pulled out a contract.

"I am prepared to offer you…."

But before he could even finish the offer, Jack was leaving the room.

It wasn't a one off thing.

"Ay, Jack!" Ruggie sidled up next to him on the way to class. "You think you can do me a solid? See, I have a lot of chores to do for Leona, and I was hoping you could ask Y/N to…"

And Jack was gone again.

The headmage had summoned Jack to his office. He placed a plate of delicious food in front of him, and was staring at him with a serene smile on his face.

Jack did not trust that one bit.

The headmage leaned back in his chair, simply watching Jack. Jack stared back, not touching his plate.

“Mr. Howl, I was hoping you could help me with a situation. I, and the entirety of the student body, will be eternally grateful.”

Jack said nothing, continuing to stare. Normally, he would assist the headmage in any way, his sense of honor always looking for a way to help the school. But, with the recent attempts to use his new ability for selfish ends, he was extremely suspicious.

“I have called the prefect in for a meeting. You see, it's the time of year where the dark mirror provides us a list of names for potential incoming students. I need a secretary, who will write down the list of names, compile the addresses, send out the acceptance letters, etc. etc. You understand, surely.”

Crowley leaned in conspiratorially, a sly grin on his face.

“You will help me convince them to take on this task, for the sake of our esteemed university, won't you?”

Jack stood angrily, slamming his hands on the table as he leaned into Crowley's face.

“This power I have been given is strong. And if I waste it on things that are to the detriment of my partner, then I do not deserve to even be with them.”

Crowley's smirk turned down right sinister.

“A shame, truly. Too bad. Because they are already here.”

A knock rang from the door, and Jack's head whipped over in time to see you walk in. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, and Jack had to fight off the embarrassment of not having anywhere to hide his wagging tail.

“Perfect, welcome! Have a seat!” Crowley said, and Jack felt a guilty sense of pride as the light left your eyes upon hearing his voice.

You walked to the empty seat next to where Jack was standing, taking it. You raised a brow expectantly.

“What do you want, headmage?” You asked tiredly.

And Jack knew he couldn't simply be a witness. If he couldn't protect you from one crow, then what was his new magic ability for?

“I need you to be my full time secretary until the end of the school year-”

“Am I getting paid?” You asked, bluntly.

“No, but-”

“Then no.”

At that moment, Jack realized he was not the only one with a secondary unique magic that was capable of manipulating you. Crowley's expression shifted into one of a cruel, terrifying, debt collector.

“Night Raven College is an esteemed university, one that is exclusive to only the best mages. And yet we have provided you with a home, and an invaluable education. All for free. The least repayment you can give is selflessly serving our university.”

He watched as you deflated. The truth was, you'd become invaluable to NRC. There was no reason Crowley would logically kick you out, especially for a job he had done alone for years before you had popped into this world. He was bluffing.

But the move was working. You were opening your mouth to accept the job, when Jack knelt before you, placing his hands on your leg to get your attention. Then he activated his power.

Your mouth instantly closed, your expression shifting to one of distracted adoration at his “puppy dog eyes”. 

“The budget we would need to hire a secretary will, unfortunately, have to come out of the renovation budget for Ramshackle.”

Your face immediately flicked back up to Crowley. Jack had underestimated how strong Crowley's powers were. The crow had had years to grow his abilities, while Jack had only had a few months.

Jack pawed at your leg, forcing his ears to droop as he intensified his “magic”.  Your look of dejection melted, your lips parting in a silent “aw”. 

“We may even have to get rid of an extra student. Providing for two of you is an unnecessary expense, to the board.”

You whipped back to Crowley, but Jack knew that was his last card. But if he smiled smugly now, he would lose. So he dug deep within himself, pulling at an inner supply of strength.

His pupils expanded even further, glitter and hearts filled the air, and he watched your face split into a dopey grin, your hand moving on it's own to scratch behind his ears.

“Sorry headmage, I don't think I can,” you said, your voice sounding loopy and lovesick.

The headmage scowled, but Jack held firm, the sparkles and hearts floating in the air twirling for good measure.

“Fine. You win this round Howl. But, next time, I'll be prepared for you! Mark my words!” Crowley shouted.

Luckily, you were too caught in Jack's spell to even hear his words, as he escorted you from the room.

You were halfway to the mirror chamber to return to Ramshackle, when you turned to him, cupping his cheeks, and exclaiming,

“Sevens! You just look so cute!” Then you kissed the tip of his nose.

His embarrassment caused him to drop the puppy eyes spell. He looked away, rubbing his neck for something to distract himself. When he looked up, you were blinking in confusion.

“Where am I? I thought I was in Crowley's office. How did I get out here?”

Now he was more embarrassed. He'd gone too hard, too quickly, with his magic.

He was about to apologize, when you smiled at him sweetly.

“Wait, it was my perfect, handsome wolf who protected me, right?”

Oh.

Oh no.

He wasn't the only one with magic to make someone lovesick.

....

Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @strawberrystepmom

Lemme know if you want to be added to my regular tag list. I lost my original list, so this is just the one I could find.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> choi san x reader x jung wooyoung warning(s) -> mention of abuse words -> 1.2K

abstract -> "...like you’re wanted. It's a sense of security that you have a home"

san's perspective

I’ve been under her care for about a month now… humans often were cruel creatures. She was a saint though. 

The way she cared for others over herself was obvious. The amount of people who come over to check up on her shows how many care for her. 

They were all cautious of me though… of what I did to her. She’s healed by now… luckily she didn't scar. I didn’t want to be reminded by a scar of what I’d done. 

She did prove to want to spoil me and Wooyoung. 

The black card in her hand would pay for everything… I've seen people have their card declined but she constantly picked things out without a worry. 

She is a trust fund kid… but she made money herself too. “San how about this?” she asked me and I shook my head. I didn’t want to show off my arms. 

“San you need some short-sleeved clothes,” she said as she put it back. “Ooh! y/n how about this!” Wooyoung yelled as I saw him pull out another piece of clothing for himself. “If you like it, put it in the cart,” she said happily. 

“y/n?” he asked, looking nervous. 

“Yes?” she said waiting for him to speak… he was fidgeting and not looking at her anymore. “Why haven’t you given us collars yet?” he asked and I groaned.

Collars weren’t something I wanted. 

“Hmm? Oh… well I guess we haven’t had that conversation” she said while looking at me. “We’ll do that at home okay?” she asked and he nodded. 

She wandered off while me and Wooyoung guarded her cart with the mountain of clothing. “Why do you want a collar so badly?” I asked and he sighed. “It's not necessary but… to hybrids, it's almost like you’re wanted. It's a sense of security that you have a home” he said

“Then why hasn't she gotten us one yet?” I asked now feeling agitated at the thought of not having one. “Well… collars are also seen as oppression. Some hybrids don’t like it because it could be offensive” he explained and I nodded. 

“Maybe she hasn’t caused your past? I heard her speaking to our doctor about triggers you have” he said and I knew that made the most sense. 

“I never really had a collar…” I said and he nodded. 

“You should also have some short-sleeved clothes…” he said and I sighed. “I’ll choose some but I doubt I'll use it,” I said and he chuckled. 

“Well it looks like she's looking for some,” he said as we saw her looking at short-sleeved clothes… “Miss?” I heard as I saw an employee get closer to her. “Do you need help looking?” they asked and she pondered before shrugging. 

“Sure,” she said. “Do you know your boyfriend’s size?” they asked and I felt my face heat up. “Huh?!” she let out clearly flustered. Wooyoung laughing at the situation… “Yah, when did you become her boyfriend ~” he teased and I growled. 

“No fair though… I wouldn’t mind being mistaken for her boyfriend” he said softly. The fox had a huge crush on her; it was painfully obvious. 

He was also a big pervert… always when she was out he’d go to her room and leave with her scent on him. I don’t want to know what he does there…

“I think i'm ready for the next store,” she said, quickly coming over to us with a pink hue across her cheeks. 

It was cute how flustered she became. 

“So much,” y/n said as we were now all on the floor lying down surrounded by bags. I don’t even think the floor was visible anymore. 

“y/nnie! We still need to go grocery shopping!!” Wooyoung said and we groaned. He was now the appointed chef since y/n burned lunch one day. He scolded her and kicked her out of the kitchen. Not like he lets me in there either though…

“Does that mean we order food today?” I asked and she chuckled. “What are you craving San?” she asked and I thought about it… “Anything with meat with it,” I said, and the two chuckled. 

I hate the time I wasted being too stubborn to let her in. I’ve never felt happier than by her side and playing around with Wooyoung. 

Everything was perfect. 

“Do you guys want collars?” she asked and I liked the way Wooyoung explained it. A feeling of being wanted… I wanted to be someone like that for her. 

“I do… when my owner died they sold my collar. I never got one again after” Wooyoung said and I sighed. 

“I still can't believe them. I tried visiting you… but they denied us all from visiting saying it was bad for a pregnant woman. Eventually, I just gave up trying to accommodate. I’m sorry Woo”  she said and I noticed he sat up. 

“I’m just glad you never forgot about me,” he said with a grin. “How about you, San?” she asked as she sat up. I looked at her and she always asked me questions with pure curiosity on her face. 

“I wouldn’t mind it,” I said. I think in fact I wanted to be wanted by her.

“Wait here! I have something to give you two!” she said as she stood up quickly and made her way out of the bags and toward her room. 

“What do you think she has?” Wooyoung asked and I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said and he chuckled. “You really are becoming domesticated,” he muttered. “What is that supposed to mean?!” I asked confused and he laughed. 

“You’ve grown closer to her!” he said and I nodded. Before I could say anything I heard her footsteps. We saw her excitedly coming over to us with two bags. 

I didn’t recognize this brand… not like I recognized most but from the looks of it, Wooyoung didn’t either. 

“Before you open it, I got you the second day I went to buy stuff for San,” she said and I was confused. “I also got you one after San told me to adopt you both” she explained. to Wooyoung 

We took the tissue paper out of the bag to reveal a velvet box. Mine was black and Wooyoung’s beige. 

I opened it to reveal a collar… has she got me a collar ever since then?

It was pure black with black jewels around it. “Thank you!!” Wooyoung yelled as he hugged her. I was in shock… she got this on the second day of my being here.

I looked over to Wooyoung. y/n was helping him put it on. It was a beige collar with white jewels around it. “San?” she said as she looked at me nervously. 

I stood up and picked her up. I hugged her tightly…

“Your tail is wagging like crazy!” Wooyoung said and I don’t think I've ever felt this happy. “Do you like it?” she asked and I chuckled. 

“You’ve completed your promise,” I said and she pulled away to look at me shocked. I noticed her eyes turned glassy and she smiled happily at me.

“I hope you’re always happy with me,” she said as she hugged me tightly. 

“I know I will, if I’m with you” 

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[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Lunch Break

Warnings: age gap, smut, belly bulge, cam girl reader, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You’d been working for James for about three months now. He needed an assistant and you needed a job, you didn’t realize you’d be working for the James Hetfield but he made it easy to get used to.

James loved having you as his assistant. You helped him around the house, helped him with band stuff, money stuff. Anything and everything he needed help with you were there.

However, you had a lunch break everyday. This wouldn’t be an issue, it’s not really an issue anyway, though it does confuse James.

Instead of just sticking around and ordering food like he figured you would since he lives in a fairly remote area you hurry off somewhere and he doesn’t see you until your lunch is over.

If you asked for more time he’d happily let you have longer but you never seemed to need it, never asked.

One day he decided to follow you, just to see what you were really doing.

You went through the day as per usual, talking and helping, doing what you can and what he asked and when the clock hit 12:00pm you went for lunch.

You snuck out the back, there was a small porch out there and James figured you’d just sit down but you didn’t. You went down the stairs and started on your way across the field. James made sure to keep his distance so as not to alarm you and followed you all the way to the forested area surrounding a nearby creek.

With the trees it was easier to hide.

James watched as you set yourself up. You’d brought a bag out here which seemed to hold a lot. A blanket, tripod and what looked to be toys. Obviously this intrigued James.

You set up your phone and soon started filming yourself. Starting off more vanilla and just looking around. Then your top came off, revealing your smooth chest, plush and supple skin free in the wind.

It was when you revealed what was under your skirt, or rather what wasn’t under your skirt, that James decided to make his presence known.

“Well what do we have here?” He came out into the open and smiled when you scrambled to cover yourself.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what?” He interrupted. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t think I’d find out?” You but your lip, thighs helplessly squeezing together. “Needy, are we?” He sat next to you, tilting the camera down so no one could see his face. “Could’ve just asked, you know” he said, sliding his hand up and down your thigh before spreading your legs, giving him full view of your glistening cunt. “I would’ve been more than happy to help you out” he slid a thick finger between your folds, teasing your clit.

You gasped softly. “I didn’t know-“ you were cut off by a moan as he push his finger into you. “It-it’s live…” you said, giving him a warning.

James shrugged. “I’ve done worse than fuck my assistant on camera.” Without warning he started roughly fucking you with his fingers, pushing in a second and then a third, poking and prodding at your gummy insides until your back arched and your eyes rolled back, loud noises ripping from your throat out into the openness.

“That’s a good girl” he praised. “No need for silicone when you’ve got me, right?” You looked up at him with big eyes as he took his belt off.

James held his belt in his hands for a moment. He stared at you, thinking of his next move before taking your hands and tying them together with the leather strap.

Once you were properly restrained he stripped and held himself over you. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing, hm? Thinking I wouldn’t find out about your little videos” he teased your hole with his cock, his big tip already stretching you out so perfectly.

“Fuck~ gimme more” you gleamed, grinning up at him. James didn’t wait to give you what you wanted, eagerly filling you to the brim, going balls deep in you with one thrust. Your eyes crossed and your belly bulged.

James hips snapped ruthlessly in and out of you, drawing more noises than you knew you could make out of you. He had your knees by your ears and your ass in the air, his big hands holding your hips in a bruising grip, occasionally smacking your ass. “Dirty fucking slut, recording yourself getting fucked on my property? This is what you wanted all along, you wanted me to come out here and find you and fuck you good and hard, huh?”

“Fuck! Please, feels s’good” you cried.

“Oh, fuck, what is it?” He grunted, smacking your ass again and causing you to yelp. “Bitch wants to cum?” You nodded, hands twitching in their restraints as his hips continuously rammed into you.

Your eyes rolled back again and you came. James pulled out and rubbed his tip on your clit, helping you ride out your high and reaching his own along the way, hot, white liquid spurting onto your stomach.

You reached for the camera but James got it first. He held it to show you, running his hand over your stomach and spreading his cum around. “Look at that, wish that was inside of you, huh?” He smiled down at you.

He gave your phone back and your turned it off. When you weren’t looking James started licking you clean, shamelessly hitting your clit over and over again.

[seththemusehub]

hello, happy pride month! I'm Seth. I am multiple flavors of queer, physically and mentally disabled, and I have been waiting on disability to pull through for years by now. I receive food stamps. and I have no other income to speak of. internet and my phone are pretty much my only real windows to the outside world, since I'm kinda homebound.

recently the affordable connectivity program, which used to pay for my internet, shut down. I got enough for last month's payment and part of this month's (this month's will be due at the start of next month). it's $30, and I got $10 for this month's bill. phone is $10 a month. I had to switch carriers from the free government-provided cell phone service because none of them got any amount of connection inside my apartment.

unfortunately I also have dietary restrictions and don't get a whole lot in the way of food money as well. basically am down to pasta in the cupboard for food. I used the last of my mashed potatoes today, and I'd really like to get milk, cheese, lunch meat, another box of instant mashed potatoes, an actual bag of whole ass potatoes. maybe some chicken. cereal. things like that.

can I get a bit of help so I can get stuff to eat and pay off some of this stuff? I'd appreciate it. also boosts, those mean a lot to me.

paypal: paypal.me/seththemuse