#only like 40 more days here I’m almost free

[phasianoidea]

roommate took out the trash but didn’t replace the bag and has just been THROWING TRASH INTO THE UNLINED CAN (that is mine btw) ALL FUCKING DAY IM GOING TO FUCKING EXPLODEEEE WTF DUDE

[thepersonnamedsam]

helloo, just wondering if I could request an imagine for gen z driver and everything that happened last weekend in Qatar! How the heat affected her, and maybe something dramatic and how the other drivers, fans and teams maybe worried about her, thank u sm<3

a random day in my life in f1

pairing: the genz!driver x 23!grid

summary: a vlog about our beloved genz!drivers day in the paddock

word count: 2k

warnings: none

note: merry christmas and a happy new year!

thanks for staying with me this year and into the new one :)

it’s not exactly like you asked and i’m sorry for that… but this has been sitting in my drafts for sooo long, and i just had to like give it some meaning…

masterlist / taglist

The vlogging camera was always secured somewhere in her bags, but she almost never used it. Being overwhelmed fast by all of the other cameras, she didn’t want to create herself more anxiety. But today was different.

„Hi guys!“ Her face appeared on the screen. Much too close, you could almost see her pimples she got from her sweaty balaclava.

The camera swayed and the paddock was shown. „We‘re here in Qatar, it’s beautiful. It is-“, the video switched to her watch „-2pm on a Thursday, that means Free Practice!“

Light music played in the background of the video, but you could still hear the busy paddock. People talking and walking in the background. Sometimes there would even be shouting, but y/n didn’t care, she just smiled into the camera.

„I’ll take you with me through my day! Are you excited? I bet you are“, she smiled. „Uhm, Qatar is a night race, as many of you probably know… but FP1 is still in daylight, which I’m glad, because I can actually see the track and not just feel it-“, she gestures the curves of the track with her hand „-you know? Yea…“, she mumbles the last part.

The video switches to a different setting. y/n now standing inside of her garage: „I have to be careful what I show here, it’s like Hippa in hospitals“, she laughs, „with privacy and all, we don’t want the other teams to know what strategies we’ve been working on.“

„But that’s my car“, she points to the newly polished F1 car, „she got a new look just for this race, can you believe it?“ The camera sways around the car to show off the new design.

„It’s really hot here, make sure to drink enough guys!“ An animation of a glass being filled with water appeared on the screen. „If it works, you should see some water right now“, the young driver grins.

The view changes again, this time to her watch: „We have 3.30pm, it’s time for me to warm up, but I’m actually already very hot, so maybe my trainer will let me off?“ She looks expectantly at her trainer, who only shakes his head no. „Aww man, worth a shot though.“

She placed the camera on the ground to film her warmup. The timelapse shows how she starts to lightly jog on the place. Her trainer starts to throw tennis balls at her. You couldn’t hear it in the video, but he shouts with which hand she has to catch the ball.

The music was catchy and in best with her rope jumping. y/n face was red and she was sweating extremely. She was puffing and breathing heavily. In this humid weather, even inside the cooling garage, it was hard to train. How would she survive in an already 40° hot car, for over 50 laps?

The music stops, so does the timelapse. You can see y/n breathing loud as she laid on the floor. Her head turned towards the camera and she smiles lightly. „Phew, never doing that again“, she laughs.

The video changes again, as y/n walks down the paddock to visit some of her friends: „I’m on my way to the McLaren hospitality. Lando and I have that tradition for Free Practice. We always get a smoothie before, so we don’t have to drink some weird protein shake.“

The view sways around and you can see the bright orange from McLaren. You could hear Lando before he was even in the video. His laugh loud and prominent. „Hi y/n‘s fans!“, he waves into the camera.

„This is Lando Norris, if you didn’t know. He drives for McLaren!“, she explains to her viewers. „I hope they know who I am…“, Lando pouts. She shushes him and giggles.

„What smoothie are you gonna get?“, she asks Lando. „McLaren hospitality has the best smoothies, I swear. Mine doesn’t even have smoothies, can you believe that?“

„Uhm, I think I’ll get the green one, I don’t want to hear anything from Jon, so that’s the only safe option“, he sighs. y/n grimaces, as the green smoothie tastes the worst.

„I think I want the red one, the one with the dragonfruit in it, so I can fly through this Free Practice like a dragon“, she laughs.

Lando rolls his eyes but still has to laugh at her shitty joke. „That was such a bad joke.“ - „But you love me anyway“, y/n grins.

You see y/n full on sweaty and with a red head. „Free Practice is done, it was hot, like really hot, Imma hop into my ice bath for a second and yea. I’ll probably go to the Hotel after to cool down, so I’m fully prepared for Qualifying.“

A shot of the pink rubber duck floating in the ice bath was shown. The duck was flipped and it showed the temperature of the water. 8°C. Perfect for a hot day like this.

„Ohh, I’m almost vaporising“, y/n laughs as she submerges in the water. „My skin is so hot and the water so cold, it’s like I’m the hot metal they put into water, I love this videos, I binge watch them before I go to sleep“, she confesses.

„Anyway, have you seen my pink ducky? I got it from Carlos! I was jealous of his, so he bought me my own temperature duck, isn’t that sweet?“

The next shot was y/n in her hotel room. She was laying in her bed, scrolling through her phone and occasionally laughing. The view was amazing, the sun was setting and you could see so much of Qatar.

„Good morning! It’s Friday then, it’s Saturday, Sunday, what?“

„Welcome“, she laughs, „I’m eating breakfast together with Max, say hi Max!“, Max waves into the camera. „I’m eating Avocado Toast with some Salmon - good fats for my body and Max is eating, actually, what are you eating Max?“

The view changes to Max‘ plate. There was a mix of different things, like some roaster potatoes and beans and some weird, almost wool like thing on his plate. „It’s potatoes, beans and some sauerkraut“, he explains. „What? Sauerkraut?“ - „Yea, I don’t know, apparently it’s good for your body.“

y/n makes a face of disgust and the screen goes black for a second.

„Okay, Q1 and Q2 are finished, got stuck in Q2, but I’m glad I don’t have to start in Q3 honestly, I can focus on the Sprint Shootout later. It’s hot in the car, hotter than usual.“

The scene changes, again to y/n laying exhausted on the floor. From the side you can see Oscar creeping up with a big glass of water. The moment the water hits y/n‘s skin, she’s up and about chasing the rookie.

„Oscar!“ And she sprints out of the view. The screen goes black and then you can see Oscar’s wet hair and two smiley young drivers. „She dumped me“, he huffs. „Into the water“, she says for clarification.

„It’s race day!“, she screams into the camera. „Well sprint day“, she says less excited. „I hate driving in these conditions. It’s way too hot, I’d rather drive on ice than this.“

The scenery changes again, cars driving around the parking lot. „I came here with Charles and Carlos, we’re staying at the same hotel and to save our carbon footprint, with all the excessive driving we do anyway, we thought we carpooled.“

You can see Charles driving and Carlos sitting in the passenger seat. „They wouldn’t let me drive, even though I’m an F1 driver“, she sighs. You can hear Carlos laugh and say: „Have you seen your driving style on the street? No way I would sit in that car.“

The young woman shakes her head and tuts. „You wouldn’t understand“, she whispered into the camera. Charles laughs.

„You know, for you being Australian, you’re still very sweaty.“ - „What? I’m not sweaty, that’s my natural glow“, Daniel laughs. „Natural for sure“, she mumbles.

„What even are you doing? You’ve been walking around with that thing for the past three days“, Danny asks. „I’m vlogging!“ - „You’re what?“, he asks confused. „You’re old, that’s what you are. It’s like blogging but with a video, so it’s vlogging“, she explains with a sigh. The older out of the two just makes an ‚oh‘ sound and laughs.

„I wanted to make a ‚a random day in my life in f1‘ video but it turned out to be a ‚a random four days in my life in f1‘ video.“

Fernando looks confused at y/n. „What?“, he blinks at her. „You know, it should’ve been a video about one day, now it’s about the whole race week“, she explains. „Ahh, okay“, Fernando answers, still unsure what the younger driver tries to explain him. „You wanna say hi?“, she asks him.

„Hi“, he replies. Fernando was not yet in view, but you could hear him. „Into the camera, Nando. You know how this works, you’ve done press and TikTok!“

„Hi“, he says again, this time Fernandos forehead was in excellent view. You could hear y/n‘s giggles as he took the camera out of her hand. „This is for my wife, Taylor, who’s cheating with another athlete!“

The camera was set down and Fernando stood up. „What are you doing?“, y/n‘s giggles continued. „Play Cardigan by Taylor Swift please“, he whisper shouts. As soon as the music begins, Fernando dances and sings to it.

„This is me before the sprint“, y/n looks into the camera and holds up a piece sign, „And this is me after the sprint.“ Face red and puffy. „Athletes sweat, I‘m a real athlete“, she quotes Daniel.

The camera sways to Oscar, who won his first race/sprint. „How do you feel, Mr. Piastri?“ - „I’m hot and sweaty, I wanna drown myself in an iceberg or something.“

„Yea same“, she huffs. „Listen, this race is exhausting. We drive in an unnormal heat, alone in the car it’s 40°C when the outside temperature is like 20°C. But the outside temperature here is already like 40°C, imagine what it’s like inside our cars.

This is for the FIA: I lost like 7kg this sprint race alone, just from sweating. What about you, Os?“ - „I don’t know if I want to say anything to the FIA“, he says lowly. „Ahh, they won’t see that anyway“, she reassures him. „I lost like eight pounds, maybe?“ - „How much is that in kilograms?“, she asks him slowly. He laughs and says: „Maybe 3.5kg.“

„Mr. Verstappen how many kilograms did you lose today?“, she shouts over the paddock. Max halts and turns around to face the camera that was shoved in his face.

„The scale says five, why? How much did you lose?“ - „Seven! Can you believe that?“

„This race really is torture, and we only raced, what, 16 laps? I don’t know.“ - „Can’t wait for tomorrow“, Lando sighs.

The screen goes black for a second again, before the same music started from her warm up at Free Practice. The timelapse begins again and you can see y/n sweating.

Occasionally she sits down to have a sip of water, but her trainer gets her up again. Her face appears wide in front of the camera and she starts to sing the lyrics as the music fades.

„Race day, baby, hoping for a good result today! I feel it in my sweat that I’ve been losing over the past few days“, she jokes.

She gets filmed as she gets into her car, it’s being rolled out of the garage and she makes the shaka with both her hands.

We get a few scenes as she drives past the start line and as she crosses the finish line, the radio messages was overlaid on the video.

„That is P4, baby!“, her race engineer shouted. „Yes! C‘mon! I almost fainted the last three laps, but totally worth it!“

You can see the podium being filmed from the ground. Max won, of course but; „Oscar and Lando! Woohoo! P2 and P3 for my Papaya Boys“, she screams as the McLaren drivers received their trophy.

The video ends with y/n sneaking into the room where they celebrated their podium in private. They were all exhausted.

„You reek of sweat and champagne“, y/n says from behind the camera. All three laugh and Max throws his towel at her camera. The screen goes black.

Comments 3.2K

user i- what was this?

user2 love, love, LOVE the smoothie tradition

user3 qatar should be banned from the schedule

user4 what do you mean, you almost fainted on the last 3 laps? what is going on?

user5 i heard lance almost fainted too

user6 this is cruel, but also love the content

user7 I WANT TO CRADLE HER AND TELL HER EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND THAT SHE CAN TAKE AN ICY SHOWER

user8 kimi would’ve walked straight to his yacht

user9 nando’s so right playing cardigan

user10 I KNEW YOU, PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK AND GIVING ME YOUR WEEKENDS!

youtube this was… eventful?

user11 ariana, what are you doing here?

user12 that’s so old

user13 shut up, they’re probably from all the tiktok edits here on yt

user11 what’s tiktok?

user14 love the new content

f1 wowza, y/n is just stealing our job! next stop: y/n hosts grill the grid

°°°

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[changetyre]

Hiiii, uhm i dont know how to ask this hahha but could you maby do a smut fic with Lance Stroll, you can do any Story you want but i just cant find any fluffy or smut stories with him, plsss (only if you want, but smut pls , would be much appreciated)

SUMMARY: Being a personal assistant to Lance Stroll was complicated considering certain leniencies, when he misbehaves you take all the hear, which naturally caused tension between you both.

WARNINGS: **18+**, not proofread

A/N: Again sorry it took so long but hope you like it ;)

You sat in the meeting room, trying to hide your annoyance but it was clearly evident in your face as well as many others. You looked at your watch indicating you were almost reaching the 40 minute mark of waiting for one person to start.

You would’ve worried if this wasn’t such a common certain for a certain member of the team who was so secure in his position he truly didn’t care for punctuality, no actual punishment for his lack of professionalism.

"This is the 5th time this week alone he's been late to his meetings y/n, I thought you said you handled it the first time-" A team member muttered beside you.

You would've answered if it weren't for the door opening soon after.

“Morning everyone, sorry I’m a little late ran into some traffic.” Lance finally walked into the room.

There was a shared sigh of relief from everyone although for you his appearance only made you angrier reminding you of yet another date you were at risk of canceling because of having to wait for this brat to show up.

“No worries, let’s start right away.” No one dared to scold Lance, even less when the older Stroll was present who didn’t even bat an eye at his son’s tardiness.

The meeting started as Lance took a seat next to you giving you a wink completely dismissing the furious look in your eyes. Lance's hand went to rest on your thigh as he so often attempted to do but was quickly swatted away by your hand as usual.

"So Lance you haven't come in for sim work this week which we really need, are you able to stay for about an hour this evening?" Mike asked him.

"Right I would love to but I think I have an important meeting tonight right y/n?" Lance turned to look at you hoping you would once again pull him out of his duties but you'd had enough.

"No actually, you're all free this evening, as well as the whole day tomorrow...I made sure to clear your schedule." You cockily smirked loving that everyone was here for this as Lance looked at you annoyed.

"Oh are you sure I mean-" Lance tried to push once again.

"100%" You quickly cut him off.

"Perfect, we expect you this evening then." Mike was content as he continued on with the last details of the meeting all while Lance glared at you.

Once the meeting was finished you were quick to pack your things up and head out but Lance was quick to stop you before you could leave.

"What the hell was that?" He asked you once everyone else had left the room leaving you both alone.

"It was me doing the job I am paid to do successfully for the first time in a while." You bit back.

"Fine, but where the hell do you think you're off to in a rush?" Lance watched as you continued packing things up quickly stopping you by pulling you close to him by your waist. He was touchy you knew that and eventually grew used to it.

"Unlike you, I'm done for the day so I'm hoping I can still make it to my date." You attempted to walk by him but he blocked your path.

"A date?" He scoffed. "You're not going anywhere, if I'm staying you are too." he cockily smiled as his hand gripped your waist tighter.

"I was meant to finish over two hours ago I've done my job so no excuse me-" Once more you attempted to walk past him only to be stopped again by him pulling you into his chest.

"You knew this job didn't have strict working hours, you're my personal assistant, and I say when you're done. You get paid generously for every extra minute." He got closer repeating every word right up in your face. You could feel his breath on your lips.

"You're a dick." You shoved him back which only humored him.

"You better cancel that date if you want to keep this job sweetheart." Lance laughed.

You were furious, he knew you couldn't afford to lose his job and he was right in the fact that you always got paid for every single hour you worked.

_____________

After the previous rough evening, you found yourself once again back in the AM headquarters waiting for Lance to show up for more testing which he was late to.

"I thought we said 8am sharp." One of the team analysts looked at you, obviously annoyed.

"I told him to be on time, I gave him his schedule, he knows-" You started explaining.

"Your job is to make sure he is where he needs to be when he needs to be and you have failed to do so for months now." Mike who had also been waiting for Lance to arrive threatened you. "After today you're fired."

"Please I-" You didn't have a chance to defend yourself.

"Morning everyone, let's get started." Lance arrived, smiling as if he hadn't just arrived over an hour late.

Everyone else faked a smile just for him, just to keep him pleased while you were left concerned for yourself.

_______

"You have a marketing day tomorrow, you need to be there at 7am on the dot." You looked through Lance's schedule stressed about everything he had lined up praying for once he would listen to you.

"Hmm...I'm having a late night tonight so might be a little late but-" Lance started ready to approach you with his excuses as he changed out of his uniform.

"NO LANCE!" You blew up. "Fuck." You fell back onto the couch in his room in defeat realizing you had been way too loud. "For once will you just do as you are asked...even if it's the last time." You looked down.

"What are you talking about?" Lance approached you trying to hold you as he normally did but this time you pulled back.

You looked up at him and he noticed the fiery look he normally found in them was missing.

"Mike fired me this morning." You revealed to him too bothered to get angry at him anymore. "I finish today then I'm gone."

"He did what?" There was obvious fury in his voice. "Why would he-"

"Because you never do what I ask you to do." You didn't even let him finish.

"You're saying this is my fault?" Lance asked.

"You know what whatever Lance, do whatever you want. I'm done" You threw the iPad on the couch grabbing your stuff ready to leave.

"Stop." Lance grabbed your arm. "You're not going anywhere."

"I don't think that's your call anymore." You dismissed him but he held you tightly.

"I hired you. So trust me it's my call." Lance cupped your cheek making you look at him. "You're not going anywhere."

"But Mike-"

"Mike does what I say." He didn't even let you refute it.

"Don't worry...you're not going anywhere." He repeated pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"So you're just gonna keep paying me for not being able to do my job well enough?" You looked up at him.

"I would pay you to just keep you around me looking all pretty sweetheart." Lance smiled down at you placing a kiss on your cheek.

"You're infuriating-" You met his eyes again.

"Shut up" Lance kissed you roughly pulling you tightly against him.

"What do you-"Lance deepened the kiss, "think you're-"He began taking your coat off "doing?" you finished asking him between kisses with no real attempt to stop him.

"What I've always wanted to do." Lance quickly answered as he pulled his shirt off before pulling you back in and slipping his tongue inside your mouth.

"We shouldn't do this." You said as you pulled your own shirt off letting Lance unbutton your jeans and begin pulling them down.

"I love doing what I shouldn't." Lance finished pulling your jeans down before pushing you back onto the couch.

"And I hate you for it." You reminded him but were quickly shut up when he went down on you. "Agh fuck-" You moaned as he began to kiss your clit over your panties.

"I thought I told you to shut up." Lance cockily smiled between your legs as he pushed your panties aside licking up your slit before you could even bite back.

"Mhmm...please Lance." You gripped onto his hair.

"Please what baby?" Lance licked and sucked at your clit driving you crazy. "Fuck you're so wet-" Lance drooled at the sight in front of him.

"Don't stop-" You begged him as you could feel your orgasm nearing.

"Nah ah, sweetheart. You're cumming on my cock-" He stopped just before you could finish making you whine in annoyance.

"Lance! Please." You begged annoyed, a tone he was more used to but in a completely new context.

Lance didn't bother to go slowly as he sank fast and deeply into you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Aghhh shit" you moaned as he began thrusting into you.

"Does that feel good baby?" Lance asked you as he toyed with your tits.

"Fuck Lance...feels-" You struggled to speak through the pleasure. "Feels so good." You got lost in the feeling.

"You're not going anywhere, baby. I'll make sure of it." Lance whispered to you a quiet reassurance while he fucked you harshly, the first time of many.

[romanreignsbae]

Forbidden Desires - Chapter 1

R.R

Y/n was always what everyone considered blessed. Now, being the assistant for the tribal chief had it’s perks. For starters, you rode around in his luxurious bus, that only few people were allowed on.

You also, were granted with being able to fly on private jets to get from place to place, as well as exquisite hotel rooms booked and paid for.

Especially your schedule. Roman Reigns wasn't showing up to every pay per view. Not even every Friday night SmackDown. He made appearances when he felt like it. So you were usually home, that didn't mean you were off work, you had other things to handle.

Many people wanted to be you, or at least wanted your job. While these people we’re wanting your job and status, you were wanting the man you worked for, your boss, none other then Roman Reigns.

You’d been working for him for almost 4 years now. Ever since he pursued his heel character, you’d been hired as his assistant. Being his assistant wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. You thought he’d order you around to do his dirty work, but working for him was nicer then excepted.

All you really did was keep track of his hectic schedule, pack his luggage for him, and follow him around during meetings and travels...even taking care of something he claimed to be more important then work. And not to mention the money was a plus. He paid you better then you deserved, you swore it was favouritism, for obvious reasons.

Over the years you worked for him, you two created a special bond. Yes, he was your boss. But, he was also your friend. You two would often spend time together even during non work related times. You could find the both of you at a bar together. Or having movie nights in each other’s hotel rooms. You loved it. And maybe loved him..

The only problem in your way was the age gap you two shared. You were in your early twenties whereas Roman was on the verge of 40. The age gap wasn’t even a big deal to you. But, if others found out you’d grown feelings for your boss. All hell would break loose. See, Roman, is extraordinarily popular with females.

Like seriously, he has some die hard female fans. Most around your age. If anyone found out about this little crush you’d developed..well..you’d for starters be fired, and your reputation would be completely destroyed.

So here you are, sitting in the tribal chief’s private jet, waiting to land in Las Vegas. “Alright, only about a hour to go” a familiar deep voice spoke. You looked up to see Roman sitting comfortably in his seat, staring intently at you. “Yeah..” you mumbled.

“Whats up with you? You been like this all flight, completely out of it. What’s wrong are you sick? Do you have a fever? The flu? Is- nevermind..” Roman spoke worried. “No no, im good” you spoke as reassuringly as you could. He looked at you skeptically before closing his Macbook and making his way to sit beside you.

He sat beside you and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking up. “What’s planned for today?” he asked you. You quickly opened your Ipad before checking his schedule. “Well..today your free, tomorrow you have a meeting in the afternoon, its a long one” you told him.

“Damn, I hate the long meetings” he spoke with a smile. “They are the worst” you agreed grinning. “Anyways, since i’m free today, why don’t you and I head out, go do something fun together, away from work..you know after we get settled in..” he spoke almost nervously.

You were surprised to say the least. You didn’t think he would wanna spend his free day with you. “Yeah sure. What do you wanna do?” you asked him while trying to hide your growing smile. “Anything you want. Actually you know what? Lemme take you shopping, Las Vegas is known for their malls” he requested with a wink. Your cheeks started heating up.

“Sure” you spoke softly. He smiled at you before striking up new conversation about some investors looking to partner with WWE. It kept yourself distracted from the mess in your mind. Before you knew it, you landed in Las Vegas, and your uber was here to take you and Roman to the hotel.

Once you arrived to your hotel, you and Roman headed to the front desk to get the keys to your rooms.

“I’m sorry sir but, only one room has been booked-” the hotel worker spoke.

“That cant be! You don’t understand, I called yesterday booking two rooms!” Roman spoke roughly at the worker. Your feelings were hurt to say the least. You didn’t think he’d be this avoidant at sharing a room with you, especially after the favor you did him. You instantly felt your heart swelling and tears coming to your eyes.

You refused to cry over this so you grabbed Roman’s arm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, i’ll be right back” you spoke softly. Roman slightly nodded his head before going back to barking at the hotel employee.

You took as long as you could trying to get yourself together in the bathroom. You had just arrived is Les Vegas and he was already making you feel like shit. You didn’t even understand what the problem was. Well, deep down you did...you knew he didn't wanna make the same mistake.

You made your way back to the lobby to see a more calm and quiet Roman standing by the elevators.

“So Y/n..they are all booked and it looks like me and you are roommates for the next few nights” he told me. “I’m really sorry..” he added ashamed.

Your eyes widened. Why was he sorry? He didn’t even do anything. Well apart side from almost making you cry, but thats besides the point.

“Roman..why are you sorry? It’s just a room..no biggie” you spoke, plus it's not like you haven't shared one before.

“Because well, I don’t want you to feel like i’m taking advantage of you..and I don’t wanna make things awkward and weird between us..” he went on nervously.

You both knew he was lying straight through his teeth. That wasn't the real reason.

You took his words in before responding. You reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. “Ro, that’s okay, seriously I don’t mind.” you let him know. You'd be careful this time. He smiled at you almost gratefully knowing you understood.

The hotel room the two of you would be sharing was nothing less then absolutely luxurious. But you weren't surprised, the tribal chief always needed the best.

After the two of you settled into your hotel room, Roman called for an Uber to take you two to the mall. Inside the uber Roman and you made small talk back and forth but no one could deny the elephant in the room.

A little secret the two of you shared was up in the air. Something no one could know about...otherwise everything would be ruined. He warned you, if anyone found out what the two of you shared, it was over.

Everything was.

That was the first chapter of forbidden desires that I've been putting off. I have a lot more sitting in my drafts for you guys that'll be out soon. Also what do you think the little secret is? Let me know what you think of this chapter.

[fernandopiastri28]

Enjoying sometime off with Logan in Miami

sticky sugar taste- logan sargeant

warnings; pure smut, pwp, nastiness, 18+, oral (m&f recieving)

She’s gonna smack Logan when he gets home for leaving her on delivered like this. Trying to fill the void, her hole, she presses two fingers inside of her cunt, groaning at the touch. It feels good, almost good enough to tie her over, but the nagging desire and desperate want for it to be Logan’s fingers instead ruins the satisfactory feeling.

It’s near practical torture, she thinks, Logan’s been out all day without a single word to her. In all fairness to him, it’s a media day, and he’s been running back and forth trying to film as many little clips and challenges talking about just how proud he is to be Amercian and how special the Miami gp is to him.

But honestly, would a single text really hurt?

The worst part isn’t even that she just really misses him- she’d seen him only a few hours earlier when they’d first woken up and just lazily made out for about half an hour until he had to leave. The worst part is how painfully horny she is. 

Sure, she has herself to take care of that- she is perfectly capable of doing so, but it’s not the kind of horny where she just wants to cum, she wants Logan to.

The influx of Logan content coming from his own account, the williams pages, and the F1 account has been fantastic. Cute photos of him posing in a Miami Dolphin’s jersey, him doing those little Q&As about his favourite foods, taking photos with random fans that bump into him.

But just seeing his face on her phone screen every two seconds really isn’t helping her case. In all fairness, he’d probably text her if she texted him enough. He’d have enough time to quickly tap on a text notification and punch out a few words for her- she knows he would.

Logan

I miss you ☹️☹️☹️

She knows that his response won’t be immediate, and she’s fully prepared for that. However, she doesn’t just want to send those two messages and his response be something cute and sappy like ‘Aw, I miss you too. See you soon ❤️’ Which is just such a typical Logan response, she wants him rushing home the second he sees her texts just to help her feel good.

So they’re quickly followed with,

Lo i’m really horny 

And youre not here ☹️

Need you, all of u

Until he reads them, she’s only got herself, so she shucks her pants off, tossing them in the general direction of the laundry basket, and shuts her eyes, letting her left hand absently drift between her legs. 

*

Logan’s at her favourite bakery. It’s been her favourite since the grand prix last year- the one that sells the glazed donuts and cinnamon rolls that she still hasn’t stopped talking about after nearly a year. The line is miles long, so it must be an agreed upon fact that this place is genuinely good.

Unfortunately, due to how long the line is, he’s had to take even more time away from her to go here, and because he’s trying to eb a good boyfriend and surprise her with this, he hasn’t told her where he is. That means for the past two hours that he’s been easily free to text her- he hasn’t.

He feels pretty shitty for that, but hopefully she won’t be too mad once the sugary scent of the pastries fills their hotel room. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket against his thigh four times, two at a time. He doesn’t have to be a genius to know who it is- his lovely girlfriend, the chronic double texter. 

He leans over, looking at how many people are infront of him in the cue. There’s maybe 15 at most, so he’ll be out of here within a half hour and home around 10 minutes after that. 40 minutes, that’s all, he only has to ignore her texts for 40 minutes.

Eventually though, Logan’s resolve crumbles and he switches on his phone, checking her messages. The first two are cute, and he feels a bit bad for the fact that he had to leave so early. However, he chokes on his breath when he reads the next two.

The two messages that he has no right reading out in public.

Im out in public please have some decorum

He’s attempting to be funny because if he doesn’t and instead gives into what she’s saying, he might start barking over text. 

Well.

Maybe not quite that far, but damn near close enough.

Seriously Lo im in agony without u

Come home i need you so badly

Oh fucking hell. The line atleast is moving quicker than he’d predicted, but that means he has to face the cashier while being so incrediously hard and just order an assortment of baked goods.

Ill be home soon i promise

He makes his order, slamming the money on the counter while muttering out a ‘keep the change’, just to keep the interaction as quick as possible. He’s handed a brown bag with the four items- 2 cinnamon rolls, 2 donuts which was going to make for a perfect afternoon snack/dessert.

At this rate, they’re gonna be eating eachother instead of the pastries.

My underwear is soaked

Touch yourself baby, wait up for me

He switches his phone off, figuring for the drive home it’s safer to not be sexting his girlfriend while on the freeway. He might be a professional at driving, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s confident enough to drive home while discussing what they’re planning on doing together when he walks through the door. 

*

She wishes Logan would’ve given her an estimate of what ‘soon’ meant, because that could mean anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour. For her sake, she hopes it’s the former. She’s disgustingly sticky, laying on her stomach while she watches fucking tiktok edits of him. She’d started with just looking through photos he’d sent her over the course of their relationship, then evolved to needing a bit more than that.

Currently, any video of him working out was doing it for her.

I’m touching myself to pictures and vids of u 

You look so good in all these interviews bae

It’s words like those that she knows makes Logan go genuinely crazy- which is the intention, obviously. 

She gets no reply, which honestly, is a bit discouraging, but maybe he’s just on the way home and can’t reply right now. 

She prays that’s the reason.

I wanna suck your dick when you get home

Until you cry

Like the most mindblowing head holy fuck

Please?

She’s gonna smack Logan when he gets home for leaving her on delivered like this. Trying to fill the void, her hole, she presses two fingers inside of her cunt, groaning at the touch. It feels good, almost good enough to tie her over, but the nagging desire and desperate want for it to be Logan’s fingers instead ruins the satisfactory feeling.

I fell asleep after you left and i dreamed about riding you

Make my dream come true?

It’s a pretty corny line, so ‘once upon a time’ fairytale-esque, but at this point, she’s confessing just abiutanything in the hopes that Logan is reading the messages and he’s getting increasingly more riled up from them.

It’s a bit difficult to type with one hand, so her texts are going through slower now.

Fuck Lo, i miss your dick so bad

I think im going insane, nothing is helping

Genuinely she would commit crimes at this very moment just to have Logan’s cock in her, but she shouldn’t say that- that’s wrong.

My throat feels so empty

Let me blow you please 🥺

Why am i begging you i know youll want it anyways

The emoji is a good choice, she wants Logan to know just how painfully needy she is for this right now. Her two fingers curl up inside of her, desperately trying to chase an orgasm she knows she won’t reach for as long as Logan isn’t physically right next to her, but you can’t hate a girl for trying. 

Time seems to float away from her in her hazy state. She forces herself to diassociate, pretend time isn’t real and that she isn’t real in the hopes that time will pass quicker. Her past 12 messages are all still unread as far as she knows, definitely unanswered at least, so she’s holding out hope that he hasn’t crashed or something and he’s just trying to get home as quick as possible. 

She rolls over, opening the drawer of her bedside table. She has a blue ‘toy’ in there, williams blue specifically. It’s been helpful on many occasions when Logan hasn’t been around to help, or when they’ve had to do this sort of thing over the phone.

Her fingers wrap around it, keeping it in her palm as her arm falls heavy to her side. At this point, she’s too exhausted to keep doing anything to herself. Since she doesn’t know how long she’s supposed to wait up for Logan, she just lets herself drift towards sleep- figuring he’ll come quicker if she’s asleep anyways.

Logan grabs his stuff out of his car, the brown bag tucked safely under his armpit so he can use both hands to read the obscenely lewd messages that have been flooding his noifcations. His cock jerks as he scans over each new message, his head ducked down as he makes his way through the hotel. To his luck, he doesn’t have any crazy fans like Lando or Charles do that cue up inside his hotel so he doesn’t have to worry about stopping to sign something for a fan while he is painfully hard and reading texts about his girlfriend begging to suck him off.

A bit of him, no, all of him is desperately hoping she’s still up for that because a good blowjob sounds like the best thing ever right now.

He doesn’t even realise he’s gotten into the elevator until he’s standing infront of the hotel room door, searching his pockets of the key card. It happens to be wedged into his wallet into the smallest section which means it takes a solid minute to try weasel it out.

His patience is seriously being tested today.

Logan kicks his shoes off, closing the door behind him, waiting just long enough to hear the click that indicates that it’s locked before he pounces straight towards the bedroom. He drops off his stuff just next to the kitchen counter, taking care to placethe bag ontop of the table. He opens the bedroom door, a small smile spreading across his face at the sight.

Her clothes are scattered across the otherwise tidy and pleasantly decorated hotel room, the bedsheets pulled over to only one side of the bed, a head of long hair just visible where the blanket ends and the pillow begins. 

But the ache that’s straining against his jeans is enough for him to snap out of the lovey feeling and back to the horny one. “Hey pretty,” He tugs back the blanket of the bed, not too much that she’ll have a bad reaction, but enough to wake her up, a proper wakeup in which she’ll be ready for him within minutes. 

“Ngh, five minutes,” That’s exactly what Logan was aiming to avoid.

“No, up we get,” He slots his hands under her armpits, sitting her up. “C’mon, you’re gonna make good on your promises, aren’t you?”

There’s a blank expression on her face for a second, then there’s that moment of recognition. “Lo,” Her voice is thick with a mix of lust and sleep, “I’ve missed you,”

He snickers, feeling his whole body grow warmer, “I could tell, I read your texts.” He tugs his shirt off over his head, watching a smirk spread across her hazy features. “Really that desperate? Begging to suck me off?” 

Her cheeks are painted a pale pink- she loves this type of teasing, the oen that Logan borderline mocks her for how needy she is. It never gets to the point where it’s classified as mean, and if it ever scrapes that boundary, they both know to back off. “I really wanna,” She looks up at him through her lashes, the whites of her eyes prominent and contrasting against her dark pupils.

“On the floor,” She clambers onto it, a mess of legs and blankets as she falls to the ground about as gracefully as she can. Logan looks like he’s about to fuss over her before she shakes her head, assuring him that she’s fine. Once she’s got a pillow under her knees, she reaches up to undo his belt.

The worst thing about men’s pants- there’s just so many steps to take them off. Undoing the belt, pulling it out, undoing the button, the zip, then finally you reach the boxers. With girls, you often just push their skirt up and you’re ready. 

Logan assists her with his belt just to get the process moving along quicker. He lets her take back over when it gets to just undoing his jeans just because he knows she loves the control she gets over this part. She doesn’t play around too much with his jeans, eager to get them down, but once she’s met with an eyeful of his boxers-  then she decides to do a bit of teasing of her own.

She kisses him through the soft cotton of his boxers. The front of them are pulled taut over his erection, straining and begging for release. His hand finds it’s place in her hair, gently pushing her face into his crotch. “Mm, playing around like you weren’t begging to be shut up with my cock down your throat?”

Her brain is already beginning to feel foggy. It often does when they do this, she gets that dreamlike pleasure where nothing quite feels real, but it certainly feels really good. Her index fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. 

She’s seen him like this more times than she could probably count, but it’s always the best sight. She opens her mouth, kitten licking his tip. Whines fall from her own mouth, controlled and even breaths from his. It’s not yet drastic, definitely not debauched or overstimulated.

Not that she’d done this with many guys before Logan, actually maybe only one or two a few years back, but she really can’t imagine ever being with someone else like she is with Logan. He knows her- inside and out. He knows what’s too much, what’s too little, what is just perfect. He knows all her little signs and actions, the ones that speak louder than words when she can barely say it out loud. 

She wraps a hand around his cock, which he tuts at. “No hands,” They go behind her back, and she’s left looking back up at him with big eyes, waiting for him to do something. He strokes her hair, slowly guiding his cock into her lips, “Suck, baby,” He cooes.

There’s no doubt that Logan’s a bit of a challenge to take, long and thick, but he knew to which point it was too much and how much got her to that perfect mindless place. Her tongue trailed along his slit, precum gathering on it. 

Her mouth is that perfect soaking warmth around his tip, swallowing down a few inches, moving back and forth. There’s something in both of them that wants to take it to the furthest point, she wants to try and force herself as far forward as she can, take as much as humanly possibly, and he wants to fuck her face- force her to take it.

But that’s lust talking, and as much as they’re both horny as hell, they also have respect for eachother and themselves, so they treat this as a softer moment. “Is this exactly what you’ve been begging for all day, baby?” He murmurs, his finger drifting between her cheek and temple.

She can hardly respond, so a hmnh! suffices. He pulls out just far enough that her lips are wrapped around his tip, both red and swollen. Logan groans, rolling his hips forward in a painfully slow rhythm. There hasn’t been a second in which their eyecontact has broken, so she just stares up at him, big glossy eyes. 

Eventually though, just the very tip of it is hardly enough for either of them, so Logan slowly works her onto his cock, pushing forward slowly until he’s buried deep into her throat, not quite all of him inside her. 

Strands of her hair curl around his fingers, making it easier to tug and pull her in any direction he wants to. There’s drool dribbling down her chin and onto her neck, her lashes clumped together with tears.

There’s a familiar clenching in his stomach that indicates that he’s painfully close to cumming, so he tugs her off. She stares up at him in confusion, wide eyes of almost betrayal. “Up on the bed,” He instructs again. She lies against the large stack of pillows, legs bent up to the ceiling. Her knees are red and raw from kneeling for so long, so clearly the cushion didn’t help that much.

She’s only got a pair of lacy white underwear on by this point, soaked to mould to the contours of her cunt from how wet she is. Her nudges her legs apart, lying down inbetween her thighs. “Colour?”

There doesn’t seem to even be a moment of doubt, “Green,” Logan laps her cunt through the thin material of her panties, filling his mouth with the familiar taste of her. He genuinely thinks he’d die a happy man between her legs, but he doesn’t want to, because that means he wouldn’t be able to do it again.

Ideally, he wishes he could just do this for the rest of time.

Breathing whines and moans escape her mouths, chants of his name filling the room as her slender fingers card through his hair, yanking it. Not too hard that it means that he should stop, but hard enough to let out some of her energy.

“I- I missed you so fucking bad today,” She whimpers, her head thrown back against the pillow. Logan can’t help but smile, he loves how bad she needs him because it means the feeling is requited. “Where- were you?”

“I know,” He stops just long enough to answer and press a searing kiss to the inside of her thigh, “I was just- yeah, tying up some last minute errands,” The answer seems to satisfy her enough to calm down and just give into pleasure.

It doesn’t take much longer before her hips stutter and she cums, gushes of wet across his lips. She rides it out and Logan helps her the whole way before her whimpers indicate it’s all too much. He then finds his place back up at her mouth, kissing her. It’s sticky and wet, and they can taste themselves in each other’s mouths, but it feels so good to be kissing againl even if it was only a few hours ago they’d been doing it.

They flop down on the bed for a bit, stroking eachother’s hair until she decides she wants to continue making good on her promise. She scoots inbetween his legs where is still hard cock is resting heavy, and takes the head into her mouth. He lets out a grunt of surprise, which then turns to a heavy exhale.

It comes easier this time around, alternating between licking and sucking, taking him deeper than before. Her hands find their place gliding up his stomach and chest, running over his defined set of abs. She looks up at what she’s doing, which doubles as looking up at him.

Similarly to how she’d been earlier, he has his head thrown back and he’s whining, thrusting up into her. Since he can’t see what she’s doing, she has full creative liberty. She tweaks at his nipples, pink and pointed. He lets out a moan from the very back of his throat, his hips thrusting up into her throat. “Holy fuck,” He groans, pushing her head down further, only applying the slightest pressure.

It’s not long before his noises are becoming more high pitched and flooding out quicker, “Close,” He mutters, and she stays right there, moving at the same pace. He spills into her mouth, thick white strings of cum painting the inside of her warm wetness. 

They stay silent like that for what seems like hours, her face smushed up against his stomach, his hand brushing through her hair. “Was that enough?” She shakes her head, ‘hardly’. He’s on the brink of sleep, and he thinks she is too until she suddenly sits up, her face twisted like something’s bothering her. 

“Did you get donuts?” Seriously how on earth could she smell them through the door. He nods, smiling tiredly at her. He makes some lame explanation of how that was the reason he was so late as she drags him out of bed snd towards the source of the sweet smell. “I love you, I love you!” She squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck as soon as she sees the brown paper bag. 

He grins, burying his face in her neck, “Love you too,”

(sorry this took me so long to write and i hope you like it, i've been lost for inspiration. also, shoutout to sunny who was the biggest motivator for me to write this-i hope you enjoyed the nipples part)

[venus-haze]

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable. 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly. 

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse. 

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with. 

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door. 

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible. 

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre. 

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom. 

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him. 

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back. 

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper. 

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth. 

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest. 

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit. 

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control. 

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised. 

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

2.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: A week's time passes before your next date with Din and you can hardly wait.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), Just more fluff (but horny fluff?), lots of making out again, reader is horny as heck, mention of alcohol consumption (reader gets a little tipsy), usual pet names (pretty bird, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc.), ONE "good girl", ONE dick joke.

A/N: Can you tell my love language is acts of service? 🥰 As this takes place over the course of a week, I'm using a brand new divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics to help denote the passage of time. Thank you for all the support! Sorry for the slow burn!

Optional musical soundtrack: Seven by Jung Kook & Latto (Clean version)

Series Masterlist

“He wants to court you?!”

Hands covering your blushing face, you peek through your fingers, “That’s the exact word he used.”

“I thought you said he was in his 40s, not from the 1840s,” jokes Bea.

The usual brunch group dissolves into fits of laughter. “I felt like a silent movie villain twirling my mustache, trying to steal his virtue,” you giggle, “He was so sweet about it though, I think it might be kind of nice… to not… get railed.” The table roars.

Rory looks serious, “Honestly, babe.  Any way he makes you happy, as long as you’re happy…”

“I’m happy”, you smile dreamily.

“…but next week you better come to brunch with a sex limp.”

Your mortified waiter chooses this moment to set down the mimosas and you cry actual tears from laughing so hard.

The next week turns out to be crazy busy for you at work; a project deadline gets pushed up to the Friday and you know all your week nights are spoken for.  You share with Din your disappointment that you won’t be free for a second date until the work week is over. 

“I’m sad too, pretty bird.  How about I plan a nice relaxing date for Saturday, help you decompress after your hard week?”

You almost say that you can think of something specific he could do to help you decompress, but you think Monday morning might be too early for you to be so horny.  Instead, you thank him for his thoughtfulness and tell him you can’t wait, “It’s a date.”

Your day is so full of meetings and review that you barely leave you desk; the periodic messages in the GC or from Din checking in on you are some of your only moments of reprieve during your hectic day.

At 6:30 pm your stomach rumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten all day; groaning, you realize you’re looking at at least 3 more hours of work before you can go home and heat something up.  You hear your name and you look up to see one of your team members escorting Din off the elevator and pointing towards your office.

He’s a sight for your tired eyes and you melt into his open arms, “���Hi! This is a nice surprise.  What are you doing here?”  Din’s arm wraps around you, then reaches up to give your tired shoulders a brief but deep massage before he pulls back to show you the brown bag he has in his other hand.

“Know you didn’t eat lunch today, pretty girl. Thought you might be in danger of forgetting dinner, too.”

You could cry from the gesture.  Pulling him into your office and closing the door, you kiss him quickly but tenderly, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure. Now eat.”

Din sits and waits for you to start digging in before getting up to go.  You ask about his dinner, and if he wants to share yours – but he lets you know he understands you have a lot work and he doesn’t want to distract you; he had been worried he was overstepping by showing up unannounced at your place of work, but seeing how ravenous you are for the food he brought, he’s glad he came.  You wave off his concerns, and give him your approval of his takeout choice in between big bites.  When he hears that you think you might not be able to get away until close to 10 pm, he frowns, “Text me when you’re 5 minutes away from leaving, I’ll come pick you up.”

“It’s oka—”

He stops you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll feel better if I can see you safely home at that hour.  Can you do that for me, pretty bird?”

You nod, touched.

At 10:10 pm, Din is waiting outside your office, leaning against his truck and watching you wave goodbye to your co-workers, joke crying that you’ll see each other again in less than 10 hours.  You’re so tired you close your eyes and lean your head against Din’s shoulder as he drives; he holds your hand the entire way home.

Din waits downstairs while you go in and get Al, walking him with you the same way he did the other night. Before sending you upstairs afterwards, he wraps you up in his arms, once again running his hands firmly over the stiffness in your back from sitting at your desk all day, kissing you long and hard.  Barely keeping his breathing under control, Din whispers, “Missed you today, baby.” You pull yourself closer to Din, tilting your head back far enough to rest your chin on his chest and look deep in his eyes; playing with the curls at the base of his neck, you mouth, “Me too,” before opening up your mouth to his one last time before going in.

The next day, Tuesday, Din brings you lunch (“Can’t have you missing your lunch again, sweetheart”) and sits with you while you eat at your desk, watching you answer emails and the occasional question from a colleague who pops into your office.  You don’t have to work quite so late today, and are able get home at a reasonable hour (8 pm?) to have dinner.  Din still comes by later that night after closing up the gym to walk the dog, and also to bring you another surprise: your dry-cleaning from Peli’s.  So glad to be spared the errand, you thank Din with a grateful kiss before asking him how much you owe him.  Din gives you a look, to which you respond with a look of your own before sighing, “I’m too tired to do this right now, but this isn’t over, Djarin.”  Din puts his hands up in mock surrender and grins, “Anything you say, pretty bird.”

Before parting for the evening, the two of you make out like teenagers: hurried and excited, sometimes clashing teeth and bumping noses from impatience, then giggling before crashing your mouths together again. 

On Wednesday, Din brings you dinner again and this time, brings enough for your whole team.  After accepting their copious thanks, at your insistence that he isn’t a distraction, he stays and eats with you this time.  You happily let yourself escape a little from work through easy conversation with Din; he’s also easy on the eyes tonight in casual sweats, and you try to maintain a modicum of professionalism at work by not letting your eyes and thoughts drift down past the waistband of his sweatpants.  For being semi-successful, you allow yourself a few less than professional kisses after dinner.  His visit leaves you rejuvenated, and you power through the remainder of your work, missing Din already and eager to see him again for your nightly dog walk.  Al has adapted quickly to the new routine, and after the walk, lays down on the sidewalk, seemingly waiting for you and Din to have your nightly make out session.  Tonight, Din has you cradled against his shoulder, hands running over your body and face in long gentle strokes.  He knows you’re exhausted from work, and wants more than anything to relax you so he can send you upstairs pliant and languid, in hopes you’ll fall into bed right away and get the rest you need.  Your kisses tonight are unhurried, long and sweet.  You’re already half asleep when Din finally releases you and sends you in with a gentle pat on your rear.

Thursday turns out to be you and your team’s longest, hardest day, the last full work day before the Friday deadline.  Din picks you up very late from the office, and you take up your usual position, resting your head on his shoulders while he drives.  This time though, you’re wide awake, jazzed up from your team’s progress and how close you all are to pulling everything off.  Din holds your hand just like the drive on Monday, but periodically brings it to his lips to pepper your knuckles with light kisses.  As he drives, you can’t help but stare at the hand that rests on the wheel, and how it flexes as he steers one-handedly.  You can barely conceal how much you want this man to touch you; you steal glances at Din’s handsome profile as he concentrates on the road, squirming in your seat the entire drive.  Heat and desire bubble below your stomach as you hope that same hand grips your body hard tonight when his mouth ravages yours.

As if you were clairvoyant, tonight’s post-dog walk make-out session is hungry and intense.  At one point, Din has you pressed up against your building, heavy breathing while his hands roam up and down your sides, close to but never groping your breasts.  You’re worked up and needy and you let Din know by moaning into his mouth as he kisses you.  Din looks sternly at you, panting, “You can’t be making those pretty noises, baby.  You’ll drive me crazy.”

Giving him a little smirk, you push up on your tip toes and kiss him open mouthed, this time making sure to press your core against his thigh and give him a drawn out, throaty groan.

Din breaks this kiss by gripping the hands on your waist tighter, and placing you firmly back on your feet, “Now, I thought you were going to be my good girl.”

Your eyes widen, his words shooting straight to the throbbing spot between your legs; “Fuck,” you breathe.

Din hadn’t expected this reaction, but he quickly catches on, “Oh you like that, do you?”

“Mmmhmmm,” you whimper, as you close your eyes and Din slots his mouth over yours again; neither of you even trying to stop your moans this time as the kisses get deeper and harder.

“Fuck,” whispers Din when he finally comes up for air, “I’m in so much trouble.”

You look up at him, slightly stunned and unfocused, “Me too.”

Din gently cups your face and looks at you with seriousness, “Pretty bird, I hope you know just how much I want you.  You feel so good. And sound so good, too.  You’re also… precious to me; I want to take my time with you, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur as you pull him back in for a series of soft kisses, “Al says you can take your time.”

Friday passes in a frenzy with last minute prep for the deadline presentation.  Everything goes off without a hitch, and the whole team ends the day early, opting to go out for afternoon drinks and then dinner to celebrate hard work and a job well done.  When you talk to Din before heading out, he gives you a hearty congratulations and tells you to have a great time, offering to give you a ride home after (extending the kind offer to your co-workers as well),  “Have a good time, pretty bird.  You deserve it.”

Afternoon drinks plus dinner wine, plus post dinner celebratory champagne have you feeling giddy and buzzed by the time you ask Din to pick you up.  You’re not drunk, but you’re carefree, happy and your inhibitions are definitely down.  And all you want is Din.  You want to see his lazy grin.  You want to run your hands over his broad back as he hugs you.  You want his hands and mouth on you.  You want him.  You practically climb into his arms when you see him waiting for you outside the bar.

Din laughs warmly, “Had a good time, sweet girl?”

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” you hum, face buried in his neck. Fuck, he smells good. 

Brushing the hair away from your face, he takes in your goofy grin and bright eyes, trying to assess if you’re drunk, but is cut short when you pounce and kiss him with hurried eagerness.  He grins against your mouth; yep, you’re tipsy.  And it’s making you even more incorrigible and adorable than usual; Din isn’t sure he can resist you like this, but he’s going to try, “Okay, let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

Din helps you into the car, and after you buckle yourself in, he gives you a chaste kiss on your head before closing the door.  While he is rounding the car, you can’t help but pout a little.  Din said he wants you, but you feel like you definitely want him more – you can barely keep from jumping him at every opportunity, and he seems to remain ever calm and sometimes unreadable, resisting your (albeit mild) advances with little to no effort.

Holding your hand again as he drives, Din notices you don’t rest your head against his shoulder like usual; he looks over and observes a somewhat melancholy look on your face as you look out the window.  He gives your hand a little squeeze, “Everything okay, pretty bird? Why do you look kind of sad?”

Even under normal circumstances you consider yourself a fairly direct person, preferring to address things rather than let them simmer, but the alcohol tonight is making you downright brave, and you let your feelings pour out ineloquently, “Don’t get me wrong, Din - I don’t mind waiting and taking things slow. And I think it’s really sweet you want to, so I’m not trying to put any pressure on.  But…I guess I’m just feeling kind of sad that I’m the only one who finds waiting hard."

Maybe you are drunk; your words sound a little bratty even to your ears, but you don’t know how else to express your likely unwarranted feelings of rejection.  Feeling a little embarrassed for being so needy, you look down at your lap.

If you didn’t have such a sad expression on your face, Din might have laughed at the idea that it’s been easy for him to keep his hands off of you.  At every turn, your charm and pretty face threaten to make him snap, and it consistently takes every ounce of his discipline and self control to not break his resolve and take you hard on the closest available surface.  All he wants to do, all he thinks about is making you feel good; not a night goes by where he doesn’t imagine what you might look like underneath him, crying out his name while he gives you every ounce of pleasure that he can.  The car idles at a stoplight and Din reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and then trails his fingers down you jaw, gently pinching your chin and turning your face up to look at his.  “Sweet girl, please don’t feel that way.  It’s not true,” he grins bashfully.

“It isn’t?”

“Not at all. You’re not the only one; it’s hard for me too.” He tilts his head down, nodding slightly at his lap and you follow his gaze to the crotch of his pants.  Your eyes widen at what you see.  It’s a monster.  You clasp your hand over your mouth to stifle a nervous laugh; how is that suppose to fit??

Din starts moving the car again and, in a way that’s clearly tongue in cheek, teases, “Excuse me, missy.  Are you laughing at my erection?”

You giggle and can’t pass up the opportunity, “You said ‘it’s hard for me too’,” and laugh so hard, you snort.

Din’s laugh booms throughout the car.  And just like that, your little crisis of self doubt is averted, and the two of you are laughing uncontrollably, grinning like idiots.  It’s not lost on Din how amazing this feels: even with dumb dick jokes and the promise of no sex, he is completely enamoured with you.

Tonight, the kisses are positively sinful.  Deep and passionate; you’re pressed up against the wall again, but this time Din has you caged in with his forearm braced above your head, possessive of your body.  His other hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you in for kiss after kiss: hungry kisses on your lips, hurried kisses down your neck, breathy kisses behind your ears.  Your hands are fisted into his shirt, both of you pulling each other in for more, more. More.

You’re the one to pull away first, needing to catch your breath; Din touches his forehead to yours, “See you tomorrow for our second date, pretty bird.”

Dazed, you remember it’s only been a week and one date with Din.  How are you ever going to survive this man?

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Age gap relationships are always something that our society doesn’t understand much. William and Jamie certainly seen their fair share of that. Jamie had met William at a pool party for a wedding and the two hit it off immediately. William was 20 years older than Jamie, at 40, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that. He took good care of himself. The two of them started seeing each other and after a few month the relationship quickly got serious. Leading to marriage with 2 years. They were inseparable.

But then the day came when Jamie realized that the weight was started to stick and getting harder for him to lose. He started going to the gym with William. Now that both of them were going they qualified for a free couples training session which they took advantages of almost immediately. Embrace the Nee you ! Was what the flier said for the training. That’s when they met Colt.

“Hey boys. You ready to sweat !” William did the talking for the couple. He told Colt about how the two of them were wanting to be fit and healthy. Colt just chuckled and told them both that he’s make sure that happened.

Colt made the couple workout harder than ever. Each session getting harder. Jaime started noticing that William was changing. He looked like he was getting older. Hairier. More of a brute. And he himself was losing weight and start to get more muscular. Before long the workout plan changed to allow William more time to relax and sit down. But that Jamie didn’t get the same the same break. Colt instead moved all the remaking workouts from Williams routine to Jamie. Forcing them into his own schedule. It became normal for Jane to be working up a sweat while William watched from the side with a thick cigar in his mouth. William had change completely. Now balding with wife hair and hair covering most of his body with a thick hard gut protruding.

Jaime too was starting to get hairier by the day. Sweating more and more. The one change that really made Jamie realize something was wrong was the appearance of his first tattoo. He didn’t even realize he had one at first. It felt like a sun burn on his back at first and then after a couple days he finally looked. At first he was shocked. Running to William. Demanding to know what was going going on. Why he had a tattoo now. William puffed on his cigar more and just blew a cloud of the thick smoke right into Jamie’s face. Putting him under a spell. Sending his waking mind to sleep again. Jamie getting a big dopey grin “I need more don’t I?” And that was all William needed to drive him to the tattoo shop and tell the artist to start the full body process on Jamie.

Jamie was soon collared by William. As their dynamic shifted. William began to call Jaime son and Jaime called him a daddy or papa depending on the mood. Jaime was now completely reliant on his muscle daddy. Who made his choices for him. Who would tell him “I’m done growing for now but you’re just starting. And I want you massive”. It became normal would his daddy to inject him with his daily gym juice only thrust his thick cock in him right after. Making Jaime scream in pleasure. William had big plans for boy. With the constant doses of roids he giving him he eas going to be blowing up in size and hair. As he plowed into him now he could see the fur beginning to grow on his back while the hair on this head was starting to thin. Which only made William even hard to thrust. William dropped Jamie off at the gym. He paid colt his standard rate to continue the supply of gym juice and changes that had brought them here. He had turned William in the big bear daddy. And with constant hypnosis Jaimie wasn’t aware of he was being forced to turn into the submissive muscle slut he was always meant to be. Looking at them now you would never know that they weren’t muscle gym junkies just months before. Their whole world changed already. Williams changes had come to an end but with Jamie’s young age he had so much more growing to do. He patted the his dumb little sub on the butt and pushed him into gym where he knew another constant round of exercises and mental blocks would bring him even closer to being perfect. The big dumb fella was already sweating as he lumbered to the weight machines and William just went to his normal bench and sat down to light up up his cigar.

January 2nd, 2022 4:33pm

[sniigura-archive]

Adam and eve tag teaming reader after you talked big game and then immediately realised you over estimated yourself? Spectacular give me 14 of them

- they 100% bring it up while fucking too

"I thought you were going to take the lead"

- listen you would take the lead.   buttt that's easier said than done when you're getting slapped in the face with orgasm after orgasm

- its almost like you're being jumped except instead of being beat up you're pussy is being destroyed

- "I thought you wanted to be the top?" So did I.  Trust me you had plans to fuck eve dont get me wrong but somehow it transformed into getting fucked by eve. And let me tell you this women knows how to fuck!! You're going to feel everything for weeks after.

Heres some other thoughts:

- Adam's chain, that has his oh so famous guitar pick on it, that hits you in the face repeatedly when in missionary. when you bite his chain? His pick in your mouth? Feral. Good luck walking soldier

- eve doing your makeup just so its can be ruined!!!!!!!!! She uses products that will definitely run too, no waterproof eyeliner, no waterproof mascara, your lipstick and lipgloss is everywhere. She loves it

- what about 👀 adam + eve x nanny! Reader?? (Light yandere(?))

- they both have jobs and need some help with the children and that's where you come in

- they're very welcoming and notice how much you help their kids and how you always have meals ready for when they get home

- the children are bathed, fed, played with, have all their homework done and in bed every day.

- they very open about they're thoughts and feelings about you although you've never looked into it to deeply as you just thought they were grateful for the help

- they even let you move in with them to help more (pay rise included)

- intact you're so good with their kids that it's only right for them to give you your own

- once a nanny now a stay at home wife

(They probably make the children call you mama or something so if you ever try to leave they can use them against you)

god these ideas are all so sexy i’m creaming my pants just imagining it

just thinking off like adam’s thick fingers stuffed inside of you and eves tongue on your clit suhsiusnjaijajjij

or like eves strap game…….shes fucking you while you’re on your back, your head hanging of the edge while adam throat fucks you ughhhhhhhhhh

i just know when y’all are done, you and adam are drained and eve is like “this was good but next time we should go 3 more rounds” OK!!! WHERE DO YOU GET UR ENEGRY FROM BAEEE

god tugging on adam’s chain like it’s a leash i need him badly. so badly. PLEASEEE GOD

god that nanny idea. i love yanderes

it’d be also hot if adam and eve are also like older than reader. like late 30s/ early 40s and reader in her 20s

i just know adam was unhappy to get a nanny. they had soo many interviews, especially since it should be a live in nanny. you got all the certificates and the right degree and this isn’t your first nanny job where you live with the family. you were the most sympathetic one

it’s eve who first gets close to you and she tries to put adam on the idea of being with you. aren’t you cute!! and so good with their children!! adam slowly but surely comes around to the idea when he sees you in your bathing suit while youre in the pool with the kids

they’re such gaslighting assholes. you have free days but they hate knowing that you’re out with someone that isn’t them. don’t you know how good you can have it with them??

[strayfoxxchan]

Girl's Best Friend

Pairing: Non-Idol!Seungmin x f!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Content Warning: None that I can think of… pulled heartstrings?

Word Count: 1k

Prompt: You came here to adopt a dog and got a boyfriend instead!

Tag List: Message me to be added!

MASTERLIST

A sigh leaves your lips. “It’s time.”

Being an adult could be lonely. You have contemplated adopting a furry companion for months, but as you sit on the couch with a drama, crying in the dark, you decide it is time. So you pick up the stuffed dog you’d been squeezing for emotional support to look into its shiny plastic eyes.

“You’ll have a new friend tomorrow, don’t worry, buddy.”

In the morning, you scroll through your phone, browsing a list of shelters in the area. Most of them have pages full of animals available to be adopted. You catch sight of a few animals and set your eyes on a shelter nearby. 

As you drive to the shelter, listening to music way too loudly, you wonder if you’re making the right choice. You aren’t home during the day sometimes as your job is still working hybrid, and you wonder if it’s okay to leave a dog alone for extended periods, but you decide this is best for you and your mental health. 

The facade of the shelter is little more than a giant concrete building, painted in shades of blue and white, with silhouettes of little animals running across the edges of the walls. The walls are lined with vines and greenery, making it seem inviting. Walking into the building is more of the same. At the front desk, a kind woman greets you. 

“Hello! What are you looking for today?”

“Oh,” you say, “just thinking of adopting a dog. Where can I find them?” 

The woman points behind her to a big glass door. “The kennels are out the door in the courtyard. Feel free to flag down anyone in a blue apron if you see a pup you like!” She smiles warmly at you.

“Thanks!” You can feel the excitement growing as you try not to skip to the door.

The courtyard is big and green, trees scattered about randomly. There are kennels lining the edges of the yard, big open kennels that allow the dogs some room to move around. Men, women, and children walk about from kennel to kennel, patting dogs on their noses and talking in baby voices to them. 

The only problem with going to an animal shelter is that you can’t rescue them all. The puppy dog eyes and happy pants, the tail wags, and the tippy tapping of toes fill you both with elation and grief. There was no way you could fit 40 dogs into your one-bedroom apartment, but that doesn’t stop you from considering it. 

Before you know it, you’ve found yourself plopped down in front of a kennel, beginning an interview with a particularly cute mutt, a mix of something that’s given him floppy ears and a mottled coat of brown and white. He almost looks like a golden retriever but splotchy. 

“So, what makes you think you’ll be a good companion?” The dog stares at you blankly, panting away and wagging his tail a million miles a minute.

“I’m very warm, and I’m the best cuddler.” A voice comes from behind you, and you stifle a giggle, choosing not to turn around and continue the very important interview.

“What can you offer that another dog can’t?” You stare at the dog expectantly as he considers his answer.

“I’ll give you morning kisses and sing when I’m hungry.”

“Ah, good answer.” You nod at the dog, who has continued to stare blankly at you. “The final and most important question…” You pause for effect. “Are you a good boy?”

The voice from behind you doesn’t speak, but the pup in front of you replies with an enthusiastic bark. You respond in kind with an enthusiastic fit of laughter.

“Well, that settles it. You’re hired. Any questions for me?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” You snicker at the voice behind you.

“I am as single as they come.” You poke the dog’s nose through the kennel, earning you an excited woof.

You pull yourself up from the ground, grunting slightly and turning to meet the dog’s translator. 

The man wears a white polo with a blue apron tied around his waist. His hair is a little long, highlighted with streaks of blonde. He’s handsome, though his big round eyes look at you with the same happy but almost blank expression the dog had.

“He’s very talkative, though.” The man says to you. “And clingy.”

“Maybe I like talkative and clingy, Mr. Translator.” You can see a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. 

“I guess I should give up, then.” The man turns to leave.

“Wait, give what up?” He stops in his tracks and turns back to face you. 

“The interview.”

“I didn’t realize you were also a dog up for adoption,” you do your best to look serious, but your heart flutters. 

“Meong Meong,” he replies, deadpan. You choke a little on your laugh. 

“Okay then, what makes you think you’ll be a good companion?” You raise your brows expectantly. 

“I’ll keep the house clean and sing you lullabies.” As he speaks, he moves past you and kneels on the floor to unlock the kennel. 

“Hmm,” you pause. “I do love a good lullaby, I suppose. What can you offer that another… dog can’t?”

“I’ll cook breakfast and hold your hand when we walk.” The dog walks out of the kennel and sits quietly beside the man, looking up at him with a goofy smile.

“You have him beat there; I can’t argue with that. And what’s your name?”

“Seungmin,” he finally smiles. “And yeah, I’m a good boy.” He tries to say this without laughing but fails spectacularly. The two of you are in fits of giggles, and the dog at your feet taps his front toes, tail wagging as if to join in your laughter. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Seungmin. I’m Y/N. Any questions for me?” You wipe your eyes and sniffle, having shed a tear or two after laughing so hard. 

“Am I hired? Or just Oliver?” He points at the dog.

“I think I have room for two new hires.”

[nanabrainrot]

Perversion, Submersion [Pervert!Roman Roy]

Roman has been avoiding you or you've been avoiding Roman, he isn't sure and neither are you. The opportunity strikes in an elevator: explain yourself.

Warnings are in place for parts 1 and 2! This is just fluffy and open to interpretation - if you want continuations or drabbles of them, feel free to request more of Roman and this reader after this.

Part I | Part II | You are reading part 3.

WC: 2192

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It’s not unexpected but it is inconvenient when he finds himself in this position: stuck between the mirrors and four corners with you of all people. The brewing storm outside and unappealing lengthy trek down the numerous flights of stairs made this situation inevitable but undeniably appealing in the sheer amount of coincidences that had to transpire to corner you in the elevator with him.

Since your very brief and uncomfortably soothing sexual encounter with Roman, the churning in his belly was less associated with being called a perverse piece of shit but most days his mind fell back to the velvety whispers into the tip of his head as you crooned to him with sweet words. He had never heard such sincere things said to him, even in his wildest dreams there was a looming sense of craving for confirmation that he was despicable. The way his veins nowhere near his dick throbbed at your sweet words were much less bothering him but rather haunting him.

Your gaze is cold and it feels like it sees through him like mesh; you can touch it but it’s so thin and barely there it should barely carry the name ‘mesh.’ A halo of yellow light bathes you from overhead as you sigh and sit on the floor, kicking off your heels as you stretch your legs against the tiles of the elevator. A pair of kitten heels sit neatly beside you as you look up at him expectantly. The hair falling in your face from the tiring work day of running here and there and struggling to juggle a phone with the lunches of higher ups. A slight stain of coffee on your chest from the morning is dry (and it gives him a reason to look at your tits).

“What’re you lookin’ at? My dashing good looks?” Roman scoffs in that haughty tone though it barely disguises the little crack in his voice at your severe gaze. An expression devoid of smiles nor the tender coos you had last week. The seven days that passed were full of your cold and even voice like it was before you let him suckle at your tit; he felt much less like the context of it was sexual in this moment given how stern and maternal you looked at the moment even from a position below him from the ground.

“You’re not going to sit? I pressed the emergency button but I’m not sure when anyone will come. The storm should blow over soon enough though. It’s almost 7 and forecast said the chance of rain at 8 is only 40%,” you start nonchalantly, rolling your ankles girlishly in your stockings.

“40% is like, almost half, so what do mean blow over soon? And if I sit I bet my ass that this thing will rip my trousers in two,” he starts, “unless you’re into that.”

“Oh it’s my wildest dream,” you chuckle, “just sit, Roman. It won’t kill you.”

The concept of eye contact is grating on the sulci and gyri on his brain. It feels less like an invitation and more like a threat. He preferred not being so level with you, no, he much rather preferred where he was all settled in your chest last week. He’d been craving warmth that wasn’t sexual despite the way he spilled into his hand so quickly like man fresh out o the jailhouse with his first broad in however many rotations around the sun.

But it’s less intimidating at this level; the way your backs press against the glass adjacent to each other under the dim light. Yet nonetheless, words don’t find his ears nor do they press against his teethless: feeling speechless is not a feeling that frequents Roman and whenever it does come up it feels unnatural. Because it is.

The first noise to meet his ears is your yawn, your mouth opening big and wide in a silent huff of air that showed you were tired. The corporate American lifestyle must’ve been tiring for people beneath his level but that’s your fucking problem: your face never really showed tire and the confusion of you finally finding expressions in private with him only served to complicate whatever weird feeling was left squirming in his throat and belly. It left him like feeling halfway to throwing up, like a a worm was wriggling around his uvula, and the breath seemed to catch in the esophagus less like being “speechless” and more like he was choking on a favorite food.

The first touch he feels is your head on his shoulder. The reflective metallic surface of the elevator doors depict a renaissance scene: your beautiful hair pressed against his neck as your tired face was relaxed into the fabric of his suit. The first scene he smells is your breath warmed the air by him enough to let him know you were chewing some sweet gum like a child earlier instead of peppermint like any other woman your age? What was it? Hubba bubba? The thick blocks of gum that felt like bricks of sludge?

“The fuck does your breath smell like that for?” he started, desperate to not be construed as vulnerable or wanton for you. The way his voice cracked weakly and rose an octave at the question only served to expose the vulnerability that he hated.

“It’s gum.”

“Gum smells like gum, mint ‘n shit. Your breath smells like you ate unicorn shit.”

“’S hubba bubba. I like the tape version more than the block, the one that’s sour and blue. Do you know what that is or is it too far from your diet of caviar and escargot?”

“Hardy har har. I know what the fuck hubba fuckin’ bubba is.”

“Explain what it is.”

“Why would I waste the limited air of this up and down box on explaining something to you already know? It’s gum that smells like unicorn shit.”

Your brows furrow as you pull back from his shoulder to do at him. Stern, but not cold like that usual face you always seemed to make.

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what? Is unicorn shit that offensive –“

“That you’re wasting air.”

His face falls a bit, not at all at once, but the way his eyes falter and the muscles at his mouth seem to weaken betrays him: you struck a nerve.

“Do you know what a joke is? Just a quick question.”

“Didn’t like that joke.”

“I’ll write that down that it isn’t a crowd favorite.”

“A comedian should know his crowd.”

“And how am I supposed to know you?”

“Cause you sucked my tits?”

“Then act like it.”

Your face scrunches, then relaxes, as it does. The stone look on your face is not past the little glassy look that covers your eyes: guilt. “I thought you didn’t want me to,” you admitted with reluctance, drawing your knees to your chest to rest your chin on it (creating a reflection of your lewd panties creased in the folds of your pussy in the elevator’s metallic shine). He scoffs, rolling his eyes at her; it’s like an excuse. Trying to create a gap between them broader than it already was. Sex was one thing; a one night stand sometimes happens but between his coworker of years? As she cooed sweetly, stroked his hair, pressed kisses to his scalp; his life had been a long stretch of financial comforts overshadowed by emotional neglect if not abuse. Shit, he only really thought he knew how to get off if there was an element of humiliation involved. To kiss and coo at him while he fisted his dick wasn’t an easy task. He had people see his dick through images, but the confidence that bloomed while your acrylic nails glided soothing circles into his skin made it not a moment in his head but in his groin. A feeling that was rare without a long, long relationship of pushing and pulling prior.

Why would you think he wouldn’t want you to? He sighs, deep and hefty, before muttering, “I’m not a slut, I don’t show everyone my dick even if HR says different. I wouldn’t let you see my dick if I thought ‘hey let’s ignore each other Monday I love the awkward emotional blue balls-‘”

“Emotional? Why are you using that word? You’re my higher up; I just didn’t take you for a guy that wants… anything consistent with… with…” your face scrunches more, an obvious habit you had when you were thinking hard, raking through the words on the tip of your tongue, “your secretary. Not even to be a porno cliché, but just… you’re a rich kid and I just work with you.”

You look pretty like this, the dim light over your head as the world’s winds whirred outside the tower. It had slowed to a drizzle yet you were still stuck there. He hated the intimacy of this; your glassy eyes peering over your knees at him. The way you plucked brows furrowed then unknit, the muscles of your t-zone thick with worry. Trying to make sense or trying to make yourself make sense.

“Fuck does that matter? I still sucked your tits,” Roman shrugs.

“Cause I don’t want to get my hopes up, Roman,” you say. The words are harsher than you intended, but they were honest work. Barren and vulnerable. How long you had been his subordinate was just a number, there was no concrete number behind when the attraction started. He wasn’t a classic man’s man, but there was something compelling. He was forever playful, never truly serious, and it was a breath of fresh air from the fear you initially felt when you graduated college; the endless certifications, exams, networking, and connections that you always tended to get a big girl job that still made you less than you would ever see that Roman had always had access to. The difference between a big boy and big girl job were world’s away, but the difference in upbringing never failed to make your stomach drop. Plenty of beautiful woman would love to sleep with a rich man; you had been told one thing over and over again in your youth that stuck like glue: Never love a man for what he has, but love him for who he is. The recessions, the stress, the endless hours alone at home, the tired eyes, and secondhand clothes were just objects; but you had a beautiful example of what life was like when you chose the same person over and over again from the beginning. The illusion of choice gone with the wind by the reality of what is already there; the grass never seemed greener to mom and pop.

In short: you wanted to only marry once, fuck one man, kiss one man, know one man. To love a rich man was to love a temporary one. He could go at any time for the younger piece of ass when father time made your collagen levels run low. When your hair got gray.

When Roman’s bank went dry, who would stay?

“Hope up? What? You like me or somethin’?” he laughs, that hyena laugh. The one that always caught the attention in the wrong way, but it feels like mockery. But to him, you’re mocking him. What is there to love about him? Even the people in his family seemed to feel a tie to him my obligation of bloodline and the shared experience Logan left with them. You had nothing to tie you to him other than getting his coffee and the fact he sucked your tits once.

“It isn’t funny,” you reply dryly, “I think I do, Roman.”

It isn’t funny. The weird way his stomach lurches like he’ll throw up. Like the bile in his belly comes up immediately. The way the thunder booms a little louder.

“Then like me. I already sucked your tits,” he forces a smile but the way his eyes look gaunt is worrying (mostly because he was suppressing the need to vomit in an enclosed space or even worse, on your lap).

“I don’t wanna like you if you don’t like me.”

“Then I’ll like you.”

“You can’t just say you’ll like me, Roman.”

“Then I liked you and I like you. I think you’re a pretty and nice lady with beautiful tits and I don’t care if you think I’m a weird boss because I’m Logan’s kid. Just try it. If you’ve tried a gross food before, you can try something with me.” You grin, but it’s a obscured by your knees in the way.

Impish, skittish, your eyes creasing by the way your smile reaches them.

“You’re not a gross food.”

“I’m a gross guy though.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you know?”

“I know I think you’re neat.”

His smile reaches his eyes next.

“I think you’re cute. Tell me more about you and I’ll consider the neat part.”

The elevator moves, a low hum, descending gently until it hits the first floor and the glassy corporate towers had never felt more comfortable.

[storiesforallfandoms]

small ~ jim hopper;stranger things

word count: 1958

request?: yes!

“Oh my fucking god, I’m not the person who asked for Hopper but holy fucking shit balls. Maybe like you and Hopper go out one night just to get drunk and you do the like hand comparison thing and he just absolutely wants you then and there. But like his pov with a side of inner turmoil because he’s nervous about what would happen afterwards? I don’t really know, so basically anything, there’s not enough Hop on here.”

description: when they go out for a couple of drinks after work, neither of them expected it to end the way it did

pairing: jim hopper x female!reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, hinted smut but nothing detailed, slight age gap (hopper is mid 40s, reader is late 20s) and slight power imbalance (hopper is police chief, reader is newly appointed officer)

masterlist (one, two)

My usual drink was waiting for me in my usual spot as I entered the bar. I knew that should’ve concerned me, but it was yet another long day and I needed something to take the edge off. So I sat up on the stool that became my “regular spot” and took a sip from the beer that had become my “regular drink”.

I usually drank alone on nights like this, but this particular night a familiar voice asked, “Mind if I join you, chief?”

I looked over my shoulder to see our new rookie, (Y/F/N). She was still in her uniform, likely also just off from her shift. I hadn’t had a lot of interaction with her since her promotion, but I remembered her being an incredible trainee in her early days.

Not to mention she’s cute.

“Of course,” I said, gesturing to the empty stool next to me. “It’s a free country.”

She sat up next to me and ordered a pint of beer for herself. I glanced over at her as I raised my drink to my lips. There are certain ways to tell when a cop is new to the force and that is by how young they appear. (Y/N) still had that beautiful, youthful look to her. She had yet to face anything to cause the lines to form on her face or for streaks of grey to appear in her hair.

“Hard day, chief?” she asked.

“You can call me Jim, (Y/N). We’re not on the clock,” I told her. Not that many people ever actually called me by my first name, on or off the clock. I just wanted to hear how it sounded coming form her mouth. “And every day is a hard day on the force.”

She didn’t respond. I didn’t blame her. How are you supposed to respond to the off duty police chief having yet another existential crisis?

“It’s not that bad,” I admitted. “When you’ve been a cop as long as I have, you just see things you can never unsee. But you’re also protecting people and saving lives. That’s worth something.”

“I know. My dad was an officer, actually. He’s told me all the stories.”

“Really? Would I know him?”

she shook her head as she took another sip of her pint. “I’m not from Hawkins. I moved here after I finished police school. It was...well, it was the only place looking for new recruits.”

She could’ve been a big, hot shot cop in a big city, but instead had to settle for our small town. That’s how dreams die.

“But I like it here,” she added. “I do. Hawkins is a nice little town and the people here are...”

“Nice?” I offered.

She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When I noticed her drink was almost empty, I ordered her another one on my tab.

We were there for a few hours, drinking the night away. (Y/N) could handle her alcohol a lot better than I thought she could. She was easily keeping up with me and only started to show any signs of inebriation when I started to feel my own beer hit me.

“One more for me, bartender,” she said, raising a hand to get the bartender’s attention. Her words were slightly slurred as she spoke.

“I think you’ve had enough,” I said, reaching out to lower her hand. “You need some water before you go anywhere.”

She looked at my hand on hers. I could feel her skin warm against mine. I should’ve let go. I didn’t need to be holding her hand for this long. But her hand was so warm and so soft. I didn’t want to let go of her.

A small smile spread across her face as she slipped her hand from mine just long enough to hold up her open palm. She took the hand that was just holding her own and placed it, open, against hers. A drunken giggled escaped from her lips as she looked at the juxtaposition between the size. 

“Your hand is so much bigger than mine,” she said. “You could fit, like, both of my hands in one of yours.”

Her hand was much smaller than mine. Her fingertips just barely reached the second joints of my fingers. Actually, she was a lot smaller than me in general; her entire stature was much smaller than I was. I could likely hold both her hands effortlessly in one of mine.

Which made me picture both of her wrists locked in one of my hands. My larger body towering over her smaller one. My name coming from her lips in between a string of moans and whimpers. That warm, soft skin pressed against my - 

I quickly pulled my hand away from hers and turned to the bartender to order a water for (Y/N).

I couldn’t have those thoughts about her. There was so much wrong with that scenario, namely the fact that I was her superior and over a decade older than her. It was wrong, those thoughts were wrong. But now that I had gotten them in my head they wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t even look at her without those images flashing before my eyes.

“Did you drive here?” I asked her. She nodded as she started gulping down her water. “Listen, I don’t feel comfortable with you driving home in this state, even if you sober up a little, and I don’t want to leave you drunk at a bar on your own. I’m gonna drive you home, and you can come back to get your car in the morning.”

“But you’ve been drinking, too,” she pointed out.

“I’m much more sober than you are, honey,” I assured her. She didn’t make a comment on the pet name, and I hoped she’d be too drunk to even remember it later on.

I paid for our drinks despite her protests and guided her out to my car. She didn’t seem too drunk while walking, which made me wonder if I should’ve just let her drive home on her own. I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t want her to drive home after drinking, but I also wanted these last few moments together before I had to force things back to normal the next day.

“I appreciate this, Jim,” she said after giving me her address.

“What kind of police chief would I be if I let our rookie drive home drunk?” I asked, a light tone in my voice.

“The kind who drives after he’s already been drinking?” she offered.

I chuckled. “Okay, touché.”

She rested her head against the window. Her face lit up as we drove under the street lights. As we would approach another light, I couldn’t help but glance over to get a glimpse at her beautiful face.

God, I’m helpless here. How do I stop myself from doing something I’ll regret?

“Are you from close to Hawkins?” I asked, trying to make small talk. “Originally, I mean.”

“About a five hour drive away,” she responded.

“So not close at all really. Do you  get to see your family a lot at least?”

She nodded. “My parents drive in every other weekend. We talk on the phone all the time, too. They miss me and they wish I had gotten a job at our local department so I was closer to home, but they’re proud of me.”

“As they should be. Becoming a cop isn’t easy, as your dad probably knows.”

“School was tough, and I’m kind of worried about the first day I see something traumatizing, but it’s like you said: we do good, too. I just hope the good outweighs the bad.”

“It does. Eventually, it goes.”

“Do you have any kids, Jim?”

I felt myself tense at the question. My blood ran cold and my grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles were white.

“I used to,” I said, my voice icier than I meant it to be.

She looked at me with wide eyes. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I knew that. I should’ve have said...I should’ve remembered...shit, Jim, I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, focusing my attention on the road. “No, don’t be sorry. It was years ago and...and you’re drunk. You weren’t thinking straight.”

“It’s still not easy to lose a kid, though.”

We were silent the rest of the way to her place. I felt a sense of dread as I pulled into her driveway. I really did not want this time to end, but I had no other reason to keep things going. Once she got out of my car and went inside, she’d fall asleep and wake up sober. When I saw her at the station the next day, she’d be referring to me as Chief Hopper again, and I’d just be stuck with the memory of tonight being a far away fantasy I could never have again.

“Are you still with your wife, Jim?” she asked.

The question took me by surprise. “Uh...no. We...we divorced a long time ago.”

She was slowly unbuckling her seatbelt, her gaze slowly drifting to me as if she were contemplating what I had said. Suddenly, she was out of her own seat and on my lap. Her lips were roughly pressed against mine, her hands around the back of my head, holding me to her. Instinctively, arms went around her waist and I began to kiss her back. It was the one thing I had wanted to do all night and now that it was finally happening, I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

Her hips moved down so her crotch brushed against mine. I groaned in pleasure at the contact and she used this to her advantage by slipping her tongue into my mouth. The taste of alcohol on her tongue was enough to snap me out of my trance and to realize what was happening. I pulled away from her. She tried to move with me, but I put a hand against her shoulder to move her away from me.

“Shit,” she said, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was way out of line, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re drunk. It’s fine,” I assured her.

She shook her head. “No, no I’m not drunk. I haven’t been at all. I was a bit tipsy back at the bar, but I haven’t gotten further than a light buzz.”

I was shocked at her revelation. “But...you were okay with me driving you home. I thought you were too drunk to drive.”

“I wanted to be alone with you.”

I almost laughed I was so shocked. This entire time I was having these thoughts and telling myself I wouldn’t be able to act on them, and it turns out she was having the exact same thoughts, too.

“Did I make a total fool of myself?” she asked. “I can just go, we can just forget this ever happened.”

In response, I put a hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards me to kiss her again. I could feel her body relaxing against mine.

I couldn’t let the kiss be long lived, though, as I reluctantly pulled away again. “Go inside and get yourself sober. If you still feel like this in the morning when all the alcohol is out of your system, we can try it again.”

She smiled brightly at me. “Don’t be surprised if I kiss you the minute I see you tomorrow, then.”

I smiled back at her. “I’ll be waiting.”

[anony-man]

Got a little carried away with this one… nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Chubformers drabble #40!

Character(s): Vortex (and First Aid - IDW)

Word count: 700+

Vortex’s beloved medic had been taking well to the near-constant treats and pastries pushed his way, but to the Combaticon’s surprise, his little feedee wasn’t the only one fattening up. It was a little shocking to realize at first, especially since Vortex’s focus had been on fattening First Aid—and not the other way around. However, the more time went by, the more obvious it became.

Bites of goodies snuck in here and there were fair enough, of course, and Vortex would admit to disposing of imperfect recipes the organic way (via his belly, of course). While he was so focused on lavishing First Aid’s belly in various new recipes and flavors, though, Vortex failed to realize he had begun sporting his own growing gut… and it was all thanks to his snacking.

The day was a casual afternoon inside for the two of them, and the Combaticon had been happily stirring up a mixture of creamy ganache to compliment the rich chocolate cake he’d pulled out of the oven some minutes before. First Aid had snuck in from the berthroom sometime between his frantic rush to pull the cake out of the oven while trying not to overdo his chocolatey mixture, and the pair of arms snaking around Vortex’s waist was the only signal he caught that his partner had come by to check up on his progress.

“How’s it looking?” First Aid asked, his voice muffled by Vortex’s plating as the medic nuzzled into his shoulder. “Mm… smells delicious.”

“Better,” Vortex said, pausing his stirring long enough to grab one of First Aid’s servos and give the knuckles and tender kiss. “First try didn’t fare so well, but I know how much you love this stuff. Might as well try again, right?”

“Ahh… round two, then?” First Aid asked. When Vortex stopped stirring again, First Aid couldn’t help but sigh. “The ganache, ‘Tex.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled under his breath. “Something like that.”

Gentle servos drifted down to rest against Vortex’s belly, and Vortex could feel the soft pressure of First Aid’s helm resting against his back. It was nice, he thought, and he enjoyed the sweet moment… until—

“You know, maybe I should make you take a break from all the baking,” First said giggled. “You’ve got quite the belly going for you these days, babe. It’s almost as big as mine.”

Immediately, Vortex dropped his whisk into the mixture. That was unexpected.

“What?” He spluttered, both embarrassed and alarmed.

Sure enough, First Aid’s prodding servos melted into the soft, pudgy mesh of his belly. He wasn’t huge by any means, but… well, it was certainly a belly. Vortex groaned aloud, his pitiful frown verbalized by the sound as he stared down at his middle in defeat. No wonder First Aid had suggested they take an armor-free day… he was just looking for another chance to cop a feel!

“Aww, Vortex. Don’t be like that.” Gently, First Aid tugged at Vortex’s arm and spun him around. “It’s adorable on you. Besides, I was getting a little lonely being the only chubby bot. I like seeing you enjoying yourself.”

“This is adorable,” Vortex cut with a pout, one finger poking into the soft pudge of First Aid’s own rounded belly. “This—“ he went back to pinching at his own, his servos roughly grabbing a handful of the mesh— “is not.”

“Vortex—“

“I’m a big scary bot, Aid. I’m supposed to be lean and aggressive and intimidating, not…” he shrugged, servos falling down at his side, his gut jutting out as he slumped in defeat. “Not fat.”

“You’re not fat,” First Aid said. “You’re just—well, you’re just chubby.”

When Vortex didn’t seem convinced, First Aid pressed on.

“It’s cute, ‘Tex,” he assured him, reaching out to grasp at Vortex’s servos. “I like it on you. It’s very fitting, you know.”

Vortex huffed and grumbled for a few moments, hesitant to accept the praise as his gaze settled anywhere else but on the puppy-eyed look First Aid was giving him. In the end, he eventually relented.

“Yeah,” he said, giving his poor belly another poke, “I guess you’re right.”

Content with his success, First Aid pulled him into a hug—then spun him back around to the stove.

“Enough of that,” he said, happily going back to wrapping his arms around Vortex’s middle and watching from over his shoulder. “Your ganache is gonna burn if we don’t stop talking soon. Unless…”

“No more scrapped ganache,” Vortex said with a wave of his servo. He got right back to stirring, a sheepish grin settling on his faceplates as he glanced back at his lover. “I want that cake next.”

[purple-petrichor]

MarriageToxin Profiles Vol.1

Haven’t seen these in English yet, so I’m posting them! Taken from the Japanese manga releases. Translated by myself. Sorry for the image quality;;

Gero Hikaru

DOB:  November 24th Blood Type:  A

Heir to the "poison user" Gero family. The type to have many copies of the same clothes. Keeps a large number of work tools under his coat. If the room he lives in isn’t constantly clean, he feels unsettled. On nights after something rough happened, he cleans public toilets and other places until they’re better than new. Due to that, rumors of an urban legend “the Midnight Cleaner” have begun to spread throughout one portion of the city.

Amount of money spent on DIY candy kits per month:  approx. 200,000 yen *(approx. $1,500 USD )

–

＊TL Notes:  Here’s Gero! Starting off strong with the main character.

Blood types are included in almost every profile in this series. In Japan, blood types are actually considered pretty important for determining one’s personality and romantic compatibility. It’s similar to Western astrology with star signs. For more detailed information, search google or read here. In Gero’s case, Blood Type A is actually the most statistically common in Japan (40% of the population) so that makes him a relatively normal guy. According to one article, “people with blood type A are known to be highly-organized, particularly precise, and pay much attention to details. They are diplomatic and friendly in nature, so you won’t have a hard time approaching them. They seek harmony among other people, but they sometimes prefer to be alone because of their sensitive nature.” Checks out overall. 

The DIY candy kits money is…far too much. Gero please what are you doing. Upon searching, a single package is like, $3.90 USD. So, $1500/$4 = 375 kits per month. That’s 93 per week. That’s 13 per day. Gero is the personification of that one dril “spend less on candles. no.” tweet. --

Kinosaki Mei

DOB:  May 18th Blood Type:  AB

A marriage swindler. Capable of winning-over any partner within 30 seconds. The possessor of an outstanding "mix-and-match" fashion coordination technique. On days off, ends up lounging around inside the house all day. After a long life in abject poverty, will eat anything. Once survived for 3 weeks based only off of gorging food on dates. Living space is small, and strewn with clutter. Is hiding a big secret. –

＊TL Notes:  The original text actually manages to avoid using any pronouns for Kinosaki. Given how Japanese is structured, it’s possible to sometimes drop a subject/object/pronoun entirely, without compromising the sentence. Unfortunately in English that’s much harder to manage, and often ends up sounding like you’re suspiciously trying to avoid the words. I tried to compromise here by arranging the text around. Just know that in the official text, they avoid giving any specific he/she gender markers for Kinosaki as of current.

For Blood Type: “This blood type is the combination of the precise qualities of A types and the free-spiritedness of B types. Given that it’s a rare blood type, people with this type are often perceived as geniuses or [eccentric]. They can be unpredictable and curious. People who belong to the AB type usually jump around from one activity to another, depending on their mood and situation. They chase ideal dreams and pursue learning and knowledge in a wide range of fields. They are calm and rational but have a complicated personality.”  Again, checks out for a swindler known for changing to handle any situation.

…Yes the final line does say “a big secret”. Uh. EDIT: Chapter 54 sheds new light on this line! Perhaps it’s not a dirty joke after all, but something far more tragic. 👀

More coming soon!

[the-sonic-crew]

I'm bored again so have three OCs I made in Pulse, the lil murder kitties

Feel free to use any team for thoughts

Stephen Reynolds

- He is the first member and leader of the Assassin Alliance (a team he made with two other assassins who are his childhood friends)

- He WILL refuse to wear anything else besides his usual outfit, even if it's 40° outside

- 𝓩𝓮𝓼𝓽𝔂 as hell

- He usually is edgy asf but will be a little bit softer if it's a friend of his

- Holds grudges longer than five years, be warned

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

Dahlia Rosemary

- She is the second member of the Assassin Alliance

- She is cocky af, but a few good words will shut her up really quick (supposing she doesn't bust a cap in their head)

- Touch her dress and she'll make you touch heaven

- Despite all the negatives, she's the most merciful of the three, the second being Stephen and the third being Kodak

- She speaks in Russian if angry so mostly nobody knows what she's saying but still afraid (Russian accents are aggressive AF to me for some reason)

- She usually sings in the mirror when she thinks she's alone (Multiple people caught her doing this)

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

Kodak Stephenson

- The third member of the Assassin Alliance

- He is quiet most of the time and speaks in meeps and purrs, only Stephen and Dahlia understanding him

Ex: Stephen: Ay, Kodak! What you want for dinner?

Kodak: Meep mee mep!

Stephen: Okay! Taco salad it is!

Almost everyone is confused as hell

- Despite his cute front, he's the most dangerous of the three, examples being; killing and torturing targets with broken rusted scissors, brutalizing an entire group of security figures with the HANDLE OF A KNIFE

- Despite his violent nature, he can be nice, giving anyone he's friends with lollipops (even though he throws them at their heads if they're far away)

Anyways here's a bit extra for Stephen

Possessed by yours truly, Terrence

And Vessel

Alright, I’m imagining Team Dark getting a mission briefing on this “Assassin Alliance” of murder kitties, complete with their quirks. Here’s how each of them might react:

Shadow: “So, these three think they’re dangerous?” He’d raise an eyebrow at Stephen’s edgy vibe, probably thinking, “Amateur.” But when he hears about Kodak’s penchant for “torturing targets with rusted scissors” and brutalizing people with a knife handle, he’d have to admit these three have a vicious streak. Shadow might grudgingly respect their dedication to their work, even if he’d never show it.

Rouge: Oh, Rouge would have a field day with Stephen’s grudge-holding and edgy personality. She’d probably poke fun at him, saying something like, “Oh, Stephen, honey, holding onto grudges? That’s so passé. Let it go and live a little.” She’d admire Dahlia’s style, though, knowing how fierce she must be if she’s willing to take someone out for touching her dress. And Kodak? Well, he’d be a mystery she’d want to crack—especially if he’s hiding that killer instinct behind a “cute front.”

Omega: Omega would be very intrigued by Kodak’s methods. “Rusty scissors? Insufficient weaponry. Will provide new weapon upgrades.” He’d probably offer to upgrade their entire arsenal, or even just offer to “eliminate” their targets more efficiently. Omega might see them as dangerous in a “chaotic neutral” kind of way but would still be unimpressed by their need for subtlety.

/If they actually met, Team Dark might find themselves in an uneasy alliance, or more likely, a standoff with Kodak throwing lollipops like mini grenades, Dahlia whispering menacing things in Russian, and Stephen maintaining his icy, zesty composure./

[whatevermywpis]

: ̗̀➛𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭. : ̗̀➛𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Fluff

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Unnämed.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On.

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Oneshot.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: They/Them.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: First date?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐎𝐂 𝐔𝐧𝐧ä𝐦𝐞𝐝

                                                                                             ﹒⪩⪨﹒🗝️𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪﹒⪩⪨﹒

Dirty plates on the sink, messy bedroom, this was definitely your apartment alright. It was definitely different from how you remembered it… what happened last night? Suddenly a phone rang on the counter, you hesitated after seeing the number but something tells you to pick up the phone.

“Hello..?” It was… quiet on the other side. “Look it’s early in the morning and I don’t think a scam call would save me the headache”

“Who said anything about a scam call, wait, don’t tell me you didn’t save my number?” Realization hits you like a train as you recognized who’s voice it was. “It make me kinda sad..”

“…It’s 5:30 in the morning…” an awkward silence prologue. “So what the special occasion?”

“Nothing much, I was just wondering if you’re free for the day.” Looking back at your schedule… you didn’t have much to do.

“Nah I’m pretty free, why’d you ask?” Opening your window, the sun was rising slowly in the horizon, still cold but, you liked this view from your window.

“Well, was thinking on asking you to go out with me?”

.

.

.

“What?!” You just froze then right there on the window, you can’t feel your face from the shock someone in next door shouted a ‘it’s 5:45’.

“You don’t have to it’s just that there was a discount for couples at this place and I didn’t really know how to ask and-“ you didn’t completely follow but a date was still a date. “You know?”

“Sure I’ll go, but don’t get cold feet and leaving me alone.” You kind of stuttered but all you received was their light hearted giggling, it’s only 5 in the morning… why are you already catching butterflies?

“I won’t… I’ll pick you up at six thirty?” You had at most… 40 minutes to prepare, good enough.

“See you then.” You breathed in relief but then your face quickly flushes once more as you hugged your knees to your chest, you’re going on a date.

So you quickly jumped to your feet, and looked through your closet like a madman for the ‘decent outfit’ you almost never use unless it was a special occasion, but what you didn’t notice was the time passing by like water. And then the door knocked…

Spooked out, you looked at the clock and saw the time, it was 6:35… you were nowhere prepared… and so began your ‘panick like bocchi from bocchi the rock’ era. You didn’t even have time to clean the place up due to how busy you were frantically running towards the door before another knocked was heard.

“Good morning- a-are you okay (Y/n)?” Here lies you on the ground, ready for another battle to the death with your lungs.

“S-sorry just outta breath… pheeeeew..” you definitely felt the urge to crawl back into your closet again.

“You didn’t prepare for anything?” You feel like the kid who forgot to make the rice when your mom asked you to do it, shame, guilt…

“I didn’t know what to wear..” so you stood up and welcomed Unnämed inside, you definitely need to pull your life together…

You scratched your head in embarrassment as Unnämed looked around your messy apartment, surprisingly they didn’t look like your disappointed mom (sorry mom.). Instead they dead to your kitchen and looked through your fridge, ‘no need for the make yourself at home’ then.

“What are you doing..?” You looked curiously at them rummaging through your fridge.

“Making breakfast, there’s no rush for now so I thought I’d help out.” U-san said looking guilty. “And I didn’t have breakfast too…”

“Ah, of course but you don’t have to do anything I’ll-“ “No, I can handle a cooking, you look like you have others things to clean too right?” So you begrudgingly left the kitchen, praying that it wouldn’t burn down-

After awhile you finished cleaning up your small apartment as the smell of pancakes caught your attention, looks like they found the pancake mix. You walked into your small kitchen and found two plates of pancakes and a sink still full of plates plusing a dirty bowl of pancake mix and pan.

“Just in time! I made some pancakes, you didn’t have syrup or honey so I took your vanilla ice cream.” You sat down and stared at the stack of pancake on your table, it looked… really good.

“..No way..” you were a little stunned, not by the pancakes but by the look of U-San in a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. (Don’t mind if I do-)

“Is it… that bad?” You quickly snapped out of your trance and frequently shook your head, U-San looked happy again. “I’m glad… maybe we can go help you get ready next?”

“Eh?”

Pancakes were a little burnt but still good, you kinda liked it a lot but what came as a challenge next was your attempt to to keep U-San away from your bedroom, why? Well do you have to let them get to your mess of a closet there? Of course not so that’s why you’ve been stuck in an awkward position where every time U-San tries to open your bedroom door you drag them away.

“Come on! Just a quick look through your closet?” Unnämed said with puppy eyes, but you can’t allow it.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“No..”

“Yes, WAIT-“ you’ve been fooled by the oldest trick in the book.

You begrudgingly opened your bedroom door and ignoring the fact you had Chinese leftovers on your study table and a board filled with plans, U-San immediately started opening the drawers, this was a bad idea.

“So many… pjs…” you weren’t the type to go out too often so you were big on comfy.

“Ehe… sorry?” U-san seemed to be in deep thought before they grab some clothes, except for a shirt-

“Let’s go to my place, I think I have something that might just help you~” so are you two still going to that arcade or not-

7 am… you reached their place after a small walk. It was a pretty decent place too, Ah but then again they’re probably living better than you are with their friend group and popularity, who were you in someone else’s eyes.

It was oddly peaceful their place, not exactly clean but still it had a calming vibe to it. Quickly being pushed to the couch you sat there awkwardly as U-San rummaged through their closet for a shirt or something, but wait a minute why do you need to borrow their shirt-

“Here! You can try it out in my bathroom, it’s just right over there~” U-San handed you your clothes and pointed at a room a little further down their bedroom.

“Are you sure I don’t think I can just accept this-“ “(Y/n), it’s fine, besides it’s been a while since we hung out so why not?” You shook your head and took the clothes either way.

Stuck in the cramp bedroom you twist and turned around hanging your clothes, they picked out a pretty decent outfit to say the least. You smiled fondly at the printed borzoi doodle on the shirt.

“I knew I had some taste in fashion~” you shook your head but still gave them a silent agreement.

“I admit it alright? Now when’s our little date starting.” Wasting no time U-San grabbed your hand and took their keys, you left your clothes in the bathroom-

“Starting…now~!” You can’t help but stare at those gleeful blue eyes.

You wonder how you became so lucky to have known them in the first place, because truly you feel like they deserve better than someone like you. You’re even going on a date with them, if you shut down that call earlier… you might have really regret it.

You both walked towards a crossing before they stopped and looked back at you, they looked a bit hesitant.

“(Y/n)-san, I need to ask you something.” You paused for a moment wondering if you did anything wrong before trembling asked them if anything was wrong. “Ah no it’s just that I wanted to hold your hand.”

“Huh-“ you just stood there like a statue as all five of your senses went into fight or flight mode.

“You get lost too easily, the place is pretty big as well so I don’t wanna loose track of you while we’re there.” They spared no time and grabbed your hand, you both quickly rushed through the crowd as their excited laughs were heard.

What was that smell? Oh wait it was the smell of your burning face and the butterflies threatening to eat their way out from your stomach.

You weren’t sure why they asked you instead of everyone else but now you’re pretty sure you know why, the said place they were taking you out on a date was the newly opened arcade, it was only a few blocks away from your place. The other reason was because it was somewhere deep in the alleyway, not a good place to start a business but really rent is too expensive.

“…This is crazy.” What you didn’t mention though was the fact that this alleyway was a mini China town, so yeah it super crowded.

“I forgot how crowded these places get…” this still was busier than the usual, looks like the opening got to people’s ears and tripled.

“Let’s go?” Still you look back, they nodded as you smiled.

Navigating through the alleyway was no problem for you except for when you’re being squished through the crowd like pancakes, maybe you should have eaten a dumpling for breakfast instead… Eventually you stepped on something, it was a cat, and don’t worry as soon as you felt something wrong you let go, so the cat was okay, but not you fell.

“Careful now.” You braced yourself for the impact yet instead you felt someone’s hand behind your head, as you opened your eyes you realized… you were facing U-san’s chest, yep you’ve been unintentionally kabedonned. “ I didn’t think things would get this messy.”

“So… I’m pretty sure we’re close to the arcade so it’s… fine.” Unnämed slowly moved along with the crowd still holding your hand. “Just a little more.”

Unnämed felt happy, maybe a bit better due to them pulling you out of your comfort zone and you seemed to be enjoying it. Normally they couldn’t even talked to you that much due to your more… reserved nature, but it was such an improvement for them to see you like this.

You were very timid, at least that’s what they think, it could be different for others though… Unnämed liked it whenever you smiled but it was always so hard to grab a hold of it, should they have captured your moments on camera? Their emotions are in a mess, do they like you? Do they see you as a friend? Do they think of you as a sibling? Do you look like them?

“We’re here.” They have a habit, it was something they picked up from your words. “Phew… I hate crowds.”

“Yeah, let’s go have some fun.” You once told them that whenever you get caught up in a problem, you’d close your eyes and stop thinking about it. “Betting that I’m gonna win more prizes than you~”

“Is that a challenge~?” God must have really hated them, because they don’t even know what they could do to help you feel better with all the stress and problems bothering you. “ Well then let’s turn this into our little bet, then, whoever wins more tickets has to do what the other says then.”

“A bit cliche but, I’m willing to take my chances.” In the end, it’ll work out, they’re sure of it…

So you ended up getting separated… it’s alright you’re in a challenge! No time to waste you started to use the more ‘cheating method’, it was a dinosaur game that makes you throws balls at targets to earn points, the higher the score, the more tickets! Sometimes it’s good to cheat with what you have.

Another game you tried was more of a classic type, whack a mole, you might have accidentally hit the machine too hard but you got your tickets! Feeling like a gambler you tried out the lucky spin, you actually won 500 tickets from it, nice.

You also managed to get a stuffed fireball with a cute face on it, very warm. You haven’t seen Unnämed anywhere, seems like they’re on the upper floors… but then again you two did split out… there’s an hour left before you two meet again for the bet.

Let’s count your finances first, so far you got 652 tickets, 2 fireball plushies, and 1 free lollipop from a kid. Not bad but you still had some coins left for another game, however coincidentally you also met U-San there as well.

“ ah, how many tickets did you get?” You saw them holding a few plushies in their arms as well, you wonder what it would be like to be the plushies-

“Somewhere around 650-ish, how about you?” They nodded, seems like you and them either have a close amount or just behind each other a bit.

“Cool, want a plushie? I accidentally got too much.” Aren’t most of the machines rigged though?? “Here.”

“Oh uh thanks?” You’re still questioning the amount their holding right now after taking three from them.

Apparently you lost… you were short on five tickets, however they don’t know that yet since there’s still an hour left. You have to win another game before losing, you were a competitive person to say the least.

“I wonder how much I’d get from this game…” your eyes caught onto a punching game, how hard you punch it will determine the amount of ticket you get. “Let’s see..”

“Looks like you found an interesting game.” U-San peered over your shoulder, looks like you’ve found yourself in a pickle. “Looks fun!”

“…I’m almost out of coins so this would be my final game.” You had like four coins left, curse the rigged claw machine.

“Oh I also have four coins left too, how about this being our last game before we settle the bet?” Well let’s hope you’re strong enough.

You weren’t, you had a good punch but nope you were still weaker than U-San, you scored 145 psi… but U-San scored 180 psi. Gawd damn it, you didn’t know being weak was a mistake!

“I lost…” you felt your soul leaving your body, Unnämed pat your head with a sympathetic smile as they lead you to the gift exchanging booth.

“There there, don’t worry I’m not gonna make you do something uncomfortable.” That’s what they all say at first! “Okay you might be a bit uncomfortable but you might also be happy?”

Unnämed didn’t know how to console you, it looked like you wanted to win. You were kinda cute pouting so it was kind of a win for them either way. They had around 657 tickets, not including the amount they won from the punching game.

“I don’t know what to exchange… what do you think?” Snapping out of your sulking episode you looked around the counter, nothing caught your eyes yet.

“I’m not sure..” you caught sight of a cute dog plush, it looked like Mephistos. “How about that one?”

“Looks like, Mephistos.” Not like you wanted the plushie but it looked the most decent out of them all.

You both exchanged your tickets and got a few toys, surprisingly U-San gave you the Mephistos plushie, but then again who needs a knock off when you got the real thing.

For the rest of the day you both walked around all of the arcade, looks like you’re trying your best to make them forget the bet you made in a spur of moment. Unnämed knew that but they decided to play along, they’ll just remind you after you both had fun for now.

The stars flicker under the night sky… it was a new moon that night, it was dark but you didn’t feel so afraid nor lonely. U-San held your hand as you both walked home holding bags of today’s memories, too many stuff to keep but you decided to keep it either way.

“You know… you still haven’t heard of what I want you to do..” you froze in your steps looking nervously at Unnämed.

“Right… so what do you want me to do for you..” you nervously squeeze a fireball plushies with a tag that says ‘squish’.

“Well…”

They haven’t really thought about it either… what do they want them to do? They aren’t so sure but maybe they’ll just test the waters first…

“Go out with me.” The awkward air starts to rise, U-San looks to the ground their face a bit flushed not daring to face them. “It’s a bit sudden but that’s what I want you to do.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying by that.” They could hear the hesitation in your voice, should they go further? Would this ruin what you both have?

“I…” their voice gets stuck in their throat.

Everything they do… sudden they find it embarrassing, the times where they would spend checking up on you, the times where they would hug you and give you head pats, the times they enjoy seeing your true personality shine through… they suddenly realized maybe they really do like you, but the question still stands… do you like them?

“(Y/n), I really have to ask you this..” they’re afraid, what happens if you only see them as friends? “And please be honest with me.”

“Do you like me? And more than a friend would.. I need to know.” You don’t know what to do or at least how to answer… did they know the answer before hand?

.

.

.

.

“I do, I’ve always liked you from the moment we meet.” You closed your eyes preparing to be rejected like how you always saw it, who would like someone like you?

“Thank you..” instead you felt them hugging you… you let go of your held breath and pat their back, you felt a single tear running down your face. “I like you a lot, so I hope this means you’ll hear my request?”

“Yeah, let’s go out again soon.”

𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛: Fey

𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚙𝚝: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎!                                                                                                                                          -𝙰.𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕~🖤