#he’s a shitty loser and a shitty winner

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki’s birthday

“Katsuki Bakugo, if your ass isn’t ready in the next 15 minutes, you’re gonna be sleeping at Eijirou’s house the rest of the week cuz you WONT be allowed in this house!” You tell him with pointed look.

“I told you, you shitty woman, that I don’t want to go to some stupid birthday brunch. I want to stay home and I want YOU to cook for me while I do nothing. It’s my fucking birthday.” He shouts back.

“But that’s what we did last year! And the year before that!” You try reasoning with him.

“Yeah it’s called tradition” he says even as he stands up and starts walking over to his closet.

“Well, love muffin, traditions were meant to be broken.” You go up to him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“What the hell ever. I’m not paying for a damn thing and I’m ordering the most expensive thing they have on this stupid menu. Don’t forget your purse.” He grumbles.

You’re dressed in a nice spring dress that’s a flower pattern and all flowy. You look so adorable and then you see Katsuki and hot damn! You forget how good this man looks when he’s not in a black t shirt and joggers. Not that he doesn’t look hot as hell in that but he looks edible right now all dressed up.

“Damn big man, you got a lady. If you do, I bet I’d do stuff with you that she wouldn’t dare.” Your voice oozes cheekiness.

“My girlfriend would put your loser ass to shame! Just last night she did this thing in bed-“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Ok ok I get it.” You can feel his smirk against your palm. “You always take stuff to far.”

“I always finish the shit you start.” He moves your hand and wraps his arms around your waist. “I like this dress by the way. The only thing getting me through this brunch is gonna be knowing I get to take it off later.”

He bends down and presses his lips to you.

You have to pull yourself away and grab his hand to pull him behind you. “Let’s go before we are late”

“You don’t think those shitty ass friends of yours are gonna be late too? I’ve never seen them be on time for a goddamn thing”

When you guys get to the car, you walk to the passenger side and open the door for him.

“My king” and you do a little bow.

“You’re so fucking insufferable”

The smile on your face doesn’t disappear as you climb into the drivers seat.

“Where is this place anyway?” He questions as your pull off.

“On the outskirts of town. It’s a place Eiji found a while ago. He said it’s 10/10”

“Oh fuck, are we really listening to recommendations from that red head idiot?? He would eat toast smeared with dirt if you covered it in protein powder.”

“ ‘Suki he’s not that bad.”

“Tch”

Eventually you pull up the place and you can see Katsuki looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“Did you dumb ass get lost? This is not a restaurant.”

“Surprise!!! It’s an adventure park! They have paintball, laser tag and zip lines and stuff. They also serve food but it’s like snack type things but I though that’d hold us over til we get home so I can cook.”

You are wearing the biggest grin and your excitement it’s practically bouncing off of you.

“Oh and I brought clothes for you to change in to. I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by telling you to dress casual….. do you like it??” You ask him.

“You’re proud of yourself aren’t you?”

“Very”

“I…. Fucking love it. Are those tools still coming cuz I’ve got ass to kick.”

You bound over the seat and hug him. “Yep they are probably already inside. I told Mina to get here early to check us in.”

He slides his hand over your face and gives you a small smile before you places a kiss on your forehead.

“You did real good baby. Thank you”

“You’re welcome hot stuff. Not let’s get in there and give those guys a taste of Pro Hero Dynamight!”

“Hell yeah!”

This asshole won every game you guys played except for laser tag and thats only cuz you guys cheated! But he deserved it, he was getting too cocky for his own good.

BUT by the end of the night, he had you feeling like the real winner🤭

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @sukunas-bratt @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @kxtsxkii @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @fluffismystaplefood @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989

#imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #drabble #bakugo headcanons #fluff #bnha katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki #kacchan bakugou #bakugo #bakugou

[milaeth]

୨୧┊ 𝐈. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒. ( charles leclerc )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ∿ part three ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff & chaotic

✧.* summary ─ in which your best friend George gets fed up with watching you and Charles secretly yearn for each other while claiming to be just friends. so, when you lose a bet to George, he takes control of your social media accounts for 24 hours, using the opportunity to help you make a move on your crush.

✧.* face claim ─ suki waterhouse

✧.* warnings ─ none, this is just really chaotic lol

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ this is my first time writing a social media au so pls give me feedback! also, this is not proofread! btw feel free to leave requests <33

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: You know what, y/n?

y/n: no

princess george: I have the feeling that i’m gonna get a podium today!

y/n: what made you think that💀 not to crush your dreams princess, but i heavily doubt that

princess george: Wow, you’re so supportive. Why should I not be able to get a podium??

y/n: keyword: shitty car

princess george: Oh, yeah, I forgot about that… But i don’t care, i will manifest it (that’s what you always do, isn’t it?)

y/n: yeah sure..

princess george: You don’t believe me? Fine! Let’s make a bet then.

y/n: it’s way too early for this shit

princess george: Blahblahblah🙄

y/n: 💀 george i’m busy

princess george: Busy writing sad love songs about Charles or what??

y/n: …

princess george: Exactly. Now let’s do this!

y/n: why are you so eager to make this bet

princess george: Oh I just want to rub in your face that I was right afterwards

y/n: lovely.. but fine, start talking ig

princess george: Finally!

princess george: I predict that i’m gonna finish P3. Your prediction?

y/n: p11❤️

princess george: And now realistically…

y/n: p6

princess george: Thanks.

y/n: and what are the drawbacks?

princess george: I don’t know, maybe the loser has to hand over their main social media accounts to the winner for 24 hours. The loser isn’t allowed to use their main accounts in that time, only their private ones.

y/n: absolutely not

princess george: Aww you’re a scaredy cat?

y/n: no i just don’t trust you with my social media accounts💀

princess george: Okay fair enough

princess george: But c’mon, it’s gonna be fun! Only for 24h

y/n: fine but the winner can’t post anything too bad

princess george: Sure, sure. So, deal?

y/n: deal! and good luck (i hope you dnf)

princess george: Lovely as always

[ seen 12:03pm ]

georgerussell63

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,056,386 others

georgerussell63 P3!!!! We keep on moving🔥🔥

view all 649 comments…

user471 was a close call but congratulations!

user172 carlos deserved it more, you literally pushed him off

user93 he didn’t push carlos off but okay💀

user425 so happy for you!

user65 it should’ve been carlos

charles_leclerc congrats on p3 mate!!🔥

georgerussell63 Congratulations on P2! I nearly got you, watch your back next time😉

charles_leclerc let’s highlight the word “nearly”😉

user976 so happy to see you on the podium again🫶

yourusername still convinced you bewitched half of the grid to let you pass them

georgerussell63 Creative but no, I just had a great motivation😊😊

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: Well well well, look who lost our bet…

y/n: 😐

princess george: C’mon give me the password to all your main accounts so i can log in😁

y/n: what if i were suicidal.

princess george: Honestly sounds like a you problem.

y/n: fuck you.

princess george: Still waiting for the passwords😊

y/n: fine, but remember, only for 24 hours!

princess george: Yeah, yeah. Now give them to me.

y/n: … insta is “503_UedusEiotSrk03” & twitter is “eZiyjDbbvwKi_zu_14806”

princess george: Damn, those are some ugly passwords!

y/n: are you seriously judging my PASSWORDS rn💀💀

[ seen 4:20pm ]

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,385,052 others

scuderiaferrari That’s ice cold🧊🥶 #F1 #P2 #Charles16

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 6,175 comments…

user47 dayuumm🤭

user21 no one could ever get me into one of those things😭

yourusername That’s a sight I could get used to🥵🔥

landonorris don’t ever say or write that again.

urusername_alt🔒 @yourusername you really make me want to kms

yourusername @urusername_alt🔒 Aw, appreciate it❤️😉

landonorris y/n have you officially lost it?? why are you talking to yourself💀

user275 did we all see that or am i crazy💀

user164 yep we all saw that💀💀

yourusername

liked by zendaya, bellahadid, charles_leclerc and 18,364,187 others

yourusername "eyes that confess, while lips whisper 'just friends.'" my new single “just friends” is out now!!🤍 (yes, another single about my crush😘)

view all 369,270 comments…

user937 THIS IS SO GOOD AND HEARTBREAKING WTF

lewishamilton already on repeat🔥

user25 i cried my eyes out to this.

landonorris this is a BANGER

user12 how is this so cute yet so sad💀

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: HPW COULD YOU

y/n: I GO TO BED AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO??

princess george: i have no idea what you’re talking about.

y/n: OH PLEASE YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT YOU DID

princess george: Uhmmm nope.

y/n: YOU POSTED ONE OF MY DRAFTS

y/n: AND NOT JUST ANY DRAFT

y/n: NO, YOU POSTED THE ONE ABT MY SINGLE💀

y/n: IM GETTING EMAILS FROM MY PR TEAM BC I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THAT ON TUESDAY

princess george: Oh, yeah, my finger slipped🫢🫢

y/n: your finger must’ve slipped multiple times then bc the caption is somehow a different one💀 not to forget the twitter thing

princess george: Oops?

princess george: Besides, I only added one sentence.

y/n: are you fucking serious

princess george: It was an accident.

y/n: ACCIDENT MY ASS YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!! AND TOLD PEOPLE ITS ABOUT CHARLES WTF

princess george: To be fair that was predictable when we set the rules to this bet. And I didn’t directly say the single is about charles.

y/n: you did directly say that💀

y/n: istg i’m gonna beat you up the next time i see you

princess george: Should I be worried..?

y/n: definitely.

y/n: you give me so many seasons to kill you. this is literally the 19th one

princess george: Make it 20…

y/n: george. what do you mean.

princess george: I might’ve given you another season. On accident!!

princess george: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cu-IkZstViy/?img_index=1

y/n: oh no

f1wags

163,948 likes

f1wags Love is in the air, and our radar has picked up some juicy rumors! It seems like the friendship between the singer Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc is turning into something more than just a casual relationship. Get ready for the scoop as we take a closer look at the blossoming relationship between these two stars!

Y/N and Charles first crossed paths through their mutual friend George Russell, but it seems their connection has deepened over time. On late Sunday, Y/N dropped a bombshell by announcing her upcoming single to her social media followers, accompanied by a captivating caption. The last sentence read, "another single about my crush😘," which made fans curious and hopeful for more.

The plot thickened when Y/N responded to a tweet and saying that the song was indeed inspired by her "bae," none other than talented Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc. The revelation left followers shaking with excitement, and it's clear that the connection between the two goes deeper than mere friendship.

But that's not all! Observant watchers have noticed the undeniable chemistry between Y/N and Charles, catching glimpses of their interactions when they thought no one was watching. Ah, the power of love! Charles might have forgotten that the public has eyes everywhere, but we certainly haven't missed a beat.

The burning question on everyone's mind is: what's behind their friendship? Is it just a playful crush or something much more intense? Could Y/N L/N be a new f1 wag? Time will tell, but for now we can't help but root for this potential power couple.

So stay tuned, gossip lovers, because there's more to come from Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc. Whether it's a steamy romance or just a close friendship, we'll be here keeping our eyes peeled for any hint of what's going on behind the scenes. Love may be a game of mystery, but they've forgotten that we're experts at unraveling the truth. Keep your eyes open, folks!

view all 33,647 comments…

user79 y’all really don’t know how to mind your own business

user943 why are people making such a big deal out of this like they’re just friends and y/n was probably just drunk or smth when she said those things🙄🙄 ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS!!

user27 you guys really don’t have a life huh💀

user375 who tf is this blondie

user50 girl stfu that’s literally my wife

user697 AAAA i really hope this is real bc they’re so cute💖

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: 💀💀💀

princess george: I’m starting to feel bad now..

y/n: good, you should💀

y/n: i’m gonna apologize to charles now

princess george: Why, It’s not your fault.

y/n: you’re right, it’s yours. but you said all those things with my account so it looks like it’s my fault lol

princess george: I’m really sorry, I took it a little far!

y/n: a little is good💀 but dw it’s okay, i know you only meant it jokingly, i’ll tell everyone it was you and not me once the 24 hours are over

princess george: 👍 Good luck talking to Charles. And don’t forget to confess to him before I do it for you😉😉

[ seen 1:24pm ]

∿ people who might want to get tagged ─ @81astri @cs55version @lorarri ( my taglist if you want to get tagged in my works )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

#·˚ ༘ ☕️ — mily’s writings ! #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 driver imagines #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula one x y/n #social media au #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #imagine

[urhoneycombwitch]

sweet.

Steve x reader smut, 1.3k

foreword: u know that scene from Euphoria where Elliot makes out with Jules’ hand as if it was her pussy… anyways Steve Harrington take it away!!! 🎤 (dedicated to 🦊 anon thank u for your wisdom)

___

Sure, the drinking and the dancing is a good way to pass the time, but you’re partial to the end-of-night rituals you and Steve have settled into over the years. Your personal afterparty usually involves a shitty romcom, occasionally some weed, and always snacks both sweet and salty to soak up the alcohol.

Steve’s parents are out of town again, so the two of you are down in the basement den, passing a joint between fingers sticky with candy film.

From all your years of reading Steve’s body language you can tell he’s pretty high- feet planted on the ground but head lolling against the back of the couch, hands lax at his sides. There’s a dopey grin on his face- practically primed for a shitty joke or annoying comment- and you let the smoke out with a huff, asking on the exhale, “What?”

“You owe me five bucks.” Steve presses the side of his head into the couch, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes, still smiling.

You scoff, leaning in to pass the joint back and swiping a handful of gummy bears from the coffee table while you’re at it. “Since fucking when?”

“Since I bought this from Eddie.” Steve waves the weed for emphasis before taking another hit, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You’re matching me in pace, princess. This joint was ten bucks- ergo, you owe me five.”

You cackle despite yourself- “Ergo? You’ve been watching too many Perry Mason reruns.” You know Steve’s not actually gonna make you pay for the weed, he’s just trying to rile you up, and the fact that it’s not working is getting under his skin.

He shrugs a shoulder, just shy of pouting. “Point still stands.”

“Well, you shoulda let me buy from him. Eddie always gives me discounts. On account of these.” Here, you straighten your spine and gesture to your chest- after all the night’s activity, your boobs are practically spilling out of your bra and t-shirt combo, skin glowing in the muted TV’s light.

Steve blinks, clears his throat, and busies himself by ashing the joint into a spare candy wrapper. “Uh huh. Right. I’ll be sure to remember your tits the next time I’m talking to Munson.”

“At least someone will be thinking of them.” You mean it as a joke, but your voice is a bit too mournful to be taken lightly.

“Ah, and you’ve been picking such winners, recently,” Steve intones, dryly. The pillow launched at his head in your poor attempt to hit him is easily batted away. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve been going out with total losers. Aaron Conroy? Jamie Porter? Wouldn’t trust either of those guys to find their own dicks. Let alone your whole… business.”

Steve’s aborted gesture to the general area of your jeans makes you guffaw. “Oh, and you’re the reigning expert on girls’ business?”

“Sure am. King Steve, after all.” Said king juts an overeager thumb into his chest, winces, then gives his hand a little shake.

“Mmhm.” You slide across the couch cushions to take the joint again, knee knocking into Steve’s. “I’m pretty good at it too, y’know.”

Steve stares with wide eyes as you suck smoke into your lungs, blinking owlishly before stuttering- “You- you’re saying you’re pretty good at eating pu- at eating girls out?”

Another cackle looses from your chest along with the smoke, you can’t help it- Steve looks so properly shocked. “No, Steve, obviously I meant sucking dick. Not that I’d be opposed, per se, to a girl’s… business.”

The word drips in irony and Steve scrubs a hand down his face in irritation as you settle against the couch next to him, brushing shoulders as you continue. “Just aren’t enough girls in Hawkins to go for. Who are both out and not my friends,” you amend, before Robin can be dragged into the conversation against her will.

“You wouldn’t go down on a friend?” Steve fidgets a strip of paper Clark Bar wrapper between his fingers, crinkling quietly while he waits for your answer.

The weed has settled in your system now, a haze in your veins as you stub the roach out and leave it on the coffee table. You settle back into the couch, suddenly aware of every point of contact- thigh to thigh, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, who’s seemingly paused his breathing.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’d sleep with a friend,” you say, staring at your lap, empty hands twisting around themselves.

The tension of the moment swells, you can feel it in your chest, even as Steve draws in a breath to muse, “Wonder who’s better at it.”

“Eating girls out?” You look at him to confirm, feeling a pang when you see the lock of chestnut hair that’s flopped from its place to rest against his forehead. “I mean… probably you. Seeing as you’ve got the most experience.”

Steve smiles, lazily, tipping his head in acknowledgement, then says, “I could teach you. If you wanted.”

If Steve feels the way you stiffen in response to his words he doesn’t point it out, instead tossing the wrapper aside in favor of taking your hand into his. “Only if you wanted, though.”

You start nodding before the words can come; a shaky “Okay,” and Steve’s wrapping two warm palms around your right hand, manipulating your fingers into making a fist.

“I like to start with kissing,” he says, voice low, gaze fixed on your combined hands. “Y’know. To work her up, get her wet.”

It’s not even technically dirty talk, but the pitch of Steve’s words make your thighs clench involuntarily, seeking friction. Steve brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the base of your thumb, and your breath hitches.

“And then I… usually…” Steve trails off, and you can see the gears turning in his head at how best to teach. Apparently, he pegs you for a hands-on learner, because instead of words, he dips down to lick a stripe up the flat of your thumb.

Your mouth falls open as Steve licks deftly into the crease made by your thumb and index finger, curling the point of his tongue near the base again, your clit throbbing in response as if he was actually between your legs.

Steve makes out with your hand for what feels like hours, all sense of time warped by the heady weed. His mouth is warm and wet, saliva dripping through to your palm as he holds you in place despite your squirming.

What’s really turning you on is how into this Steve appears to be- his eyes are closed as if to savor the moment, brow pinched with pleasure, little noises from the back of his throat sending vibrations down your arm.

You fight the urge to sink your free hand into those silky brown locks; instead, your nails bite into soft skin as you clench a fist at your side, willing the subtle movement of your hips with each stroke of Steve’s tongue to stay subtle.

There’s an obscene squelching noise filling the otherwise quiet basement, and this seems to spur Steve on, suckling at your sensitive skin, heat coursing through your body as you gasp out, “Steve…”

He pulls off your hand with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you both, his mouth a glistening half-moon in the low light before he swipes the back of his hand across it. “So. Yeah. Something like that. You taste good, by the way. Sweet.”

You fight with the hinge of your lower jaw to put it back in its place, breathing heavily as you wipe your slick-coated hand against the leg of your jeans. It leaves a wet patch- likely not the only one, if the heartbeat between your legs is any indication. “Probably the gummy bears.”

“Uh huh. You think you’re any better?” Steve’s got that easy grin back on his face, cheeks rosy, lips flushed with color, too.

A quick glance down confirms that he’s hard as a rock, sizeable outline of his cock visible through the denim, betraying the bravado in his stance.

Oh, you’re gonna wreck him.

With an easy grin of your own, you reach for Steve’s hand. “Dunno. Wanna find out?”

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington smut #18+ mdni

[kana-de]

ik this is a very very basic troupe but

harbinger scara x harbinger reader and they spar and whoever wins gets to do whatever they want to the loser !!

★ summary: harbinger!scaramouche x harbinger!fem!reader. you owe him a wish after losing at a spar. what has he got for you?...

☆ cw: nsfw. cowgirl (riding). use of 'whore', 'pretty thing', 'fuck'. reader is the 3rd harbinger (yes i love this au sm). scara turns his superior into a mess (yes again). lmk if i missed anything. 1616 words.

☾ a/n: yes this is a continuation of the fics about scara x superior harbinger reader bc im a sucker for this au. first fic here. also inspired by this azeru asmr(⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

"i can't let this get serious. can't lose either..." you think, before launching another powerful - but not really - hit with your infused weapon to scaramouche's side.

yes, you're missing on purpose - but not to concede, just to not kill him by accident. "the top-ranked harbingers, up to no. 3, possess powers which can rival the gods." you remind yourself in your own head that you're 3rd, and he's just 6th. if you won't hold back, something very, very bad might happen. so you hold back, fighting not at full strength, throwing infused hits here and there, but mostly just dodging scaramouche's attacks.

the rule is simple: the first one who falls to the ground with either their front or back loses, and the loser owns the winner a wish.

it's not like you want to come off a loser and owe him that shitty wish - you don't want to lose, but you don't want to kill him or seriously injure him too. so, it's either you're fighting carefully, controlling your powers, or either he-

"ah!" you yelp, thoughts interrupting when the handle of his katana hits your back, sending you stumbling over your feet and falling on the white, snow covered ground with your front, your weapon falling off somewhere to the side. it's not long until you feel scaramouche's boot pressing onto your back to keep you pinned to the ground. "what a bastard." a thought crosses your mind, before you lift your head off of the snow just enough to breathe.

"well, well, well... if it isn't the third who owes me a wish now." he taunts, making you huff in frustration.

"i was holding back!" you protest, but he quickly interrupts your further complaints with applying now much more pressure with his foot on your back. you barely hold back an audible gasp, a grunt leaving your lips as you try to keep quiet. scaramouche smirks.

"what a petty excuse." he mocks, his boot leaving your back and letting you properly sit up, grumbling about how "not petty" it really is. "you just wanted me to win, didn't you?" he laughs right after, dissolving his own katana in the air as he stares down at you.

if it weren't for the ranks, anybody could've thought that he's just sparring with another lowly fatui soldier.

"so... a wish." scaramouche taunts, walking slowly around you, snow making a slight sound each time he makes a step. "care to know what my wish is?" he smirks.

"i always knew that you were a bastard." you mumble before shaking your head while standing up. when finished with shaking the snow off your clothes, you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "so?"

he grins. devilishly. it looks so devilish that you shiver involuntarily, but blame it all on the harsh cold instead.

"let's say... it's a challenge." he laughs yet again, then sighing softly as he finishes, and looks up at you - eyes full of amusement and anticipation.

"we're heading to my chambers, and who cums first - loses. this is my wish, dear [name]."

scaramouche's hands are in a bruising grip on each of your hips, pushing you up and down on his cock as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. "t-that's it, fuck... ride me like the heated whore you are." he mumbles, helping you with the pace.

you fail to make a normal response, the only sounds coming from your mouth being small whimpers and moans which you fail to muffle by biting on your lower lip. scaramouche watches as your breasts sway up and down under your almost translucent shirt - how considerate of you to wear this exact one for a meeting with him.

one of his hands, not even trying to fight the temptation, goes up right underneath your shirt, squeezing one of your breasts a few times and rubbing your nipple. you whine and let out another quiet moan, this time a bit longer than the previous one. he smirks, but it's not long before you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him in revenge for his little doings. your eyes open to look down at him as you do so, and you watch as he grits his teeth and his breathing hitches.

"f-fuck- don't do that..." scaramouche mutters quietly, exhaling shakily. you grin at him, grinding your hips up and down on his length, and then your walls clench around him once again, to make him cum first. he breathes out once more, his eyes looking up at you, completely dazed as he looks at your bouncing upper body. your legs and hips are probably sore from moving so much, but he doesn't care - not when you looked so fucked out, with your hair messy, lips swollen while biting your lip again, and even slightly teary eyes.

he knew you did your best to make him cum first - to see him finally lose.

you knew he did his best to make you cum first - to see you finally break down under his influence, letting him have his way with you.

"look at that pretty expression." scaramouche chuckles as his hand slides back to your hip. to prevent you from stopping, he sets the pace of your movements himself - or, at least, fixes it to be a bit more quick. "the mighty third harbinger trying her best not to lose again... what a pathetic sight."

"s-shit... slow down, please, scara..." you mutter, head tilted towards the ceiling as you feel him pushing your hips down on his cock in a fast pace, trying to make you lose control first.

"oh, what, are you about to cum, pretty thing?" he taunts mockingly and immediately feels you clenching around him as he calls you that. "what was that, pretty thing? you like that?" he raises an eyebrow up at you expectantly, chin prodded up as he keeps pushing your cunt down on his length.

"n-no!.." you quickly reply, trying so bad to prove him wrong, yet your voice is too weak and high-pitched due to - you can't keep denying it - how good you feel and how close you are. not too close, but close nevertheless. "i-i won't- a-ah!.."

your head throws back in pleasure as the tip of his cock proceeds to kiss your cervix, and scaramouche nearly moans himself. there's no denying that he feels just as good as you do - but he will definitely not lose. he'll do everything in his power to make you cum first.

even if it means to resort to cheating methods.

one of scaramouche's hands slides from your hip to your clit, his thumb starting to rub it in slow, circle motions, as he watches you stutter, writhe and whimper, your unsteady and shaky hand coming to grab his wrist in a futile attempt to stop him. his cock still sliding in and out of your hole, hitting all the right spots makes it even better worse.

"s-scara, nghh... 's unfair, wait, d-don't- ah!.. you- cheater..." you squeak at him, but, already now chasing your building up orgasm, can't do anything to stop him and yourself. your up-and-down moves become grinding partially, and then his hand pushes your hips down, making it thrusts again.

scaramouche won't lie - he too wants to cum, he needs to cum, but before he does he needs to see how you'll break.

and he himself won't last long.

"t-that's it, fuck- come on, cum, pretty thing, i know you want to cum..." he murmurs, hearing you whine out loud at the petname again, walls clenching around his girth once more. he notices your bouncing has become slow, showing that you don't want to lose despite how bad you want to finish, and the hand that rests on your hip starts to set up the pace itself for you, and you're barely able (read as: not able at all) to hold back a long, weak mewl that slowly becomes a moan and a shaky breath, as he continues to rub your sensitive clit.

"s-shitshitshitshit- scara, scara, scara, i'm c'mming, i- g'nna- ah-"

you cum with a trembling, long lasting whimper, head throwing back as you subconsciously continue to move your hips slightly up and down and forward to ride out the aftermath. your lips part and you pant, chest moving when you do.

scaramouche looks completely mesmerized by your fucked out expression - you even have little drops of tears in the corners of your pretty eyes. he finishes right after you with a shaky exhale, spilling ropes of his warm cum inside you, watching as it drips out of your hole while he's still inside you, creating a white ring around his cock. he pushes your hips completely down onto him to stop your movements and to not let any more of his seed spill out of you.

"[n-name]..." he breathes out, eyelids closing as he tries to calm his unsteady whiffs down. he then chuckles, eyes opening and looking at you. "you lost though. again."

"s-shut up..." you whisper, muttering a few more curses about what a bastard he is.

scaramouche laughs once more. "care to repeat that, pretty thing?" he coos, and then hear you mewl, your cunt clenching around him again.

"no. just shut up already." you mumble, falling on top of him, not caring about that you lost, or that you both need to clean up after this little... competition of yours.

"alright then..." he snickers, letting out a deep breath and putting his hands on your back as if soothingly, rubbing your skin through your shirt in circles. "didn't know you could become such a mess.."

"shut up!"

#genshin impact #scaramouche smut #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x fem reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #scara x you #scara x reader #scara x y/n #wanderer x y/n #kunikuzushi x y/n #kunikuzushi smut #wanderer smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x female reader

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

#starzwrites #WORKING ON VIVA REQS RNNN ^w^ #this was already in our drafts since silver wrote it so Im posting jt rn while i work on Viva stuff yippeee !!! #trolls #trolls x reader #john dory x reader #trolls john dory x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert

[chaoticace2005]

The list of regrets I totally have and am not just writing because Charlie is making me, Vagina Vaggie is glaring at me, and I want the free rent:

By Angel Dust, 3 time X-X-X award winner.

(Warning, there is some victim blaming in this. The abuse Angel faces from Val is not his fault, but given that I’m writing this from his perspective I figured it would be something he’d add.)

1. Writing this list

2. Verbally complaining about writing this list cause now Vagina wants to stab me.

3. Only taking half my usual hit before starting today.

4. Complaining about not being high enough.

5. Not hiding my drugs better

6. Not having more stashes of drugs

7. Calling TV superior to radio.

8. Not killing that snake before he had a chance to go to the hotel.

9. Not “trying hard enough” at this shitty hotel.

10. Being too close to roof so the CRAZY BITCH COULD THROW ME OFF OF IT.

11. Walking up the stairs with Pentious only to have to go IMMEDIATELY BACK DOWN.

12. Signing my deal with fucking Valentino. Seriously I’m a fucking idiot.

13. Even suggesting the idea that Charlie should come to the studio. She’s just going to get hurt.

14. Mouthing off to Val.

15. Not getting Charlie out of the hotel sooner

16. Being such a pathetic, dick sucking ho who isn’t good at anything beyond sex.

17. Not being able to take all of this.

18. Not acting well enough cause some this bitchass cat is seeing through me.

19. Ever offering that bitchass cat my services.

20. Pushing Husk’s boundaries

21. Not being my true self.

22. Acting for so long I don’t even really know who my true self is

23. Being a dick to Charlie

24. Being a dick to Husk

25. Being a dick to everyone

26. Putting my dick in a vacuum cleaner.

27. Calling Smiles a creepy dommy daddy.

28. Letting Niffty know about some of my more kinky films. She’s getting ideas…

29. Trying to play poker with Husk (and not even strip poker!)

30. Testing if my venom works on myself (it doesn’t and now I have pink bite marks)

31. Leaving what I used to clean my bites out because somehow Alastor found them and is now TEMPORARILY PARALYZED AND I DONT WANT HIM TO KILL ME WHEN HE CAN MOVE AGAIN.

32. Not answering Val’s texts.

33. Wearing boots. Seriously these things hurt sometimes.

34. Having ugly feet so I can’t NOT wear boots.

35. Tracking mud into the hotel

36. Mentioning sex around the Egg Bois because now I have to explain what it is.

37. Describing sex as something their boss “has never had,” it got back to Pentious and I’m scared.

38. Mentioning “Vox” anywhere in Alastor’s vicinity.

39. Agreeing to play Monopoly with Niffty. In general Monopoly sucks but Niffty likes to get knives involved?!?!

40. Getting addicted to drugs.

41. Getting caught in that alleyway by my BITCHASS brother.

42. Not trying harder for Molly.

43. Not saying goodbye.

44. Fucking overdosing.

45. Doing literally fucking nothing with my life and nothing with my death.

46. Taking the easy was out and doing whatever pops told me to

47. Yelling “FUCK” loudly in church that one time

48. Not teaching these people at the hotel how to FUCKING MAKE SPAGHETTI RIGHT?!

49. Getting high with Cherri.

50. Telling Val to “fuck off”

51. Flirting with that one cannibal guy because now they all seem to want to EAT ME (and not in the sexy way)

52. Leaving those pot brownies out. High cannibals, Egg Boiz, and Nifftys are terrifying.

53. Letting myself be named “Angel” because this makes shit too damn confusing plus I think Niffty wants to KILL ME?!

54. Not spending more time with these losers

55. Not opening myself up to Husk sooner.

56. Being too much of a coward to tell him how I feel.

57. Mentioning Pent has two dicks to Cherri cause she won’t stop asking about it.

58. Not doing enough to save Pentious.

59. Not telling him how much he means to me.

60. Trying to lift way more than I should have. Apparently six arms doesn’t mean I’m super strong.

61. Calling Niss a short motherfucker who nobody likes. I’m sorry, I’ll be better (and call him something even worse next time.)

62. Still being too much of a coward to tell Husk how I feel.

63. Flirting with Husk in Italian when he UNDERSTOOD ME THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME?!

64. Getting a room on the same side of the building as Alastor’s because he keeps laughing at 3 in the morning???

65. Kissing Husk in public. Val is mad.

66. Trying to even have a boyfriend with Val around. It’s stupid.

67. Calling yourself stupid for wanting to have a boyfriend.

68. Giving my boyfriend access to this list.

69. No regrets. Only 69. :D (Jesus Christ you’re a child.)

#tw: victim blaming #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #huskerdust #arackniss #Molly #molly hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #stupid hazbin hotel lists #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #angel x husk #angelhusk #tw: valentino

[celaenaeiln]

it is in my humble opinion that in a demigod child situation, Dick Grayson would be either a child of Ares, Athena, or Aphrodite. Athena and Aphrodite are pretty obvious, he's smart and he's charming and he's bloody terrifying. but Ares. Oh Boy Do I Love That Guy and here is why.

modern media portrays Ares as a misogynistic asshole. this is just untrue. Ares is the only male Olympian without a history of SA and in fact adores & respects women. he is the father of the Amazons and has the title "the god feasted by women" Dick Grayson (apparently) is perceived as a womanizer and cheater. That Is Not True At All. he loves and respects women.

Ares is often portrayed as being a force of nature, uncaring of the law. that is also false. he's also the god of rebellion and civil order, an ally of Themis, the goddess of justice Dick Grayson, yes he can be a feral little shite (and i say this with full adoration), he's still a police and stands for the people, he brings justice in both his day and night job

there's a common conception that Ares is a meatheaded guy who only likes war and violence. once again, untrue. you need strategy for war, Ares simply represents the brutal aspects of war but he's still a smart guy as seen with the Romans adopting Ares into Mars. not to mention, Ares understands that in war there are winners and losers Dick Grayson is often seen as ditzy or less smart than his siblings (especially Tim) when in reality he's a very capable and smart guy who understands that loss happens at times

Ares cares about his family, especially his mother. when two giants threatened his mother, Hera, he was the first to fight for her. i don't need to talk about how much Dick cares for his family right? i'll admit though, this point is less polished than the rest

as much as i love the PJO series, i HATE their characterization of Ares being a crappy dad. the reality is that he disobeyed Zeus to avenge his children in the Trojan War. he committed murder and was sentenced to trial for his daughter. The Amazonian Warriors. he may not be the best at affection but he's a caring dad Dick Grayson is not the perfect brother/mentor/father figure but he's trying and doing his best goddamnit. i'm sick of people saying he's not

anger is an essential part to Ares. anger is an essential part to Dick Grayson

there's a common portrayal of Ares and Aphrodite where Ares treats Aphrodite like shite. let's be honest, the goddess of love (a war goddess, by the way if you look up Aphrodite Areia) would not let herself be treated poorly. my personal belief on why this portrayal exists lies with the whole Hephaestus debacle in which i believe Hephaestus was the crap guy here but that's another topic i'd discuss with another shot I Do Not Care What You Say, Starfire and Nightwing Are Not The Shitty Relationship You Think They Are

in (i think) two different stories, it's shown that Ares can dance. it makes sense. footwork is important in battle. footwork is important in acrobatics. Dick Grayson knows what he's doing

in many myths, Ares is treated like crap by his siblings and although this is another half baked point, i feel like it's a bit common for Dick Grayson to be treated like crap by his loved ones

i love Ares and i love Dick Grayson and sadly they both have poor representation in mass media. thank you for listening, i am so fucking tipsy (maybe drunk actually) right now.

damn.

#i'm speechless anon #I LOVE this #dick grayson #nightwing #ares #greek mythology #thanks for the ask! #cl anon asks

[pisspope]

rei and zeke bday hcs cause like,,, why not (but also bc its what the ppl voted for)

tw: implied sex, references to canon typical violence

zeke

- its not that his parents didn’t celebrate his birthday at all its just,,, it was usually a small affair with influential PTA members and their kids. in other words, no one zeke got along with. very much a “seen not heard” while the grown ups sip mimosas type deal

- and of course zeke does everything in service of disappointing his parents so!!! its party time

- honestly u could try to throw a surprise party but good fucking luck this man is snoopy as all hell. every time ur out just a little too long with pieck or porco (they’re bickering over how early to buy balloons) he’s got u on the horn like “i know ur planning something”. would never accuse u of cheating bc he fully believes his own hype and knows u wouldnt DARE cheat on Adonis Himself (Narcissus more like but w/e)

- so yeah he’s probably at least a little involved in the planning of it all, wants to backseat drive because hes “not a loser who plans his own birthday party”. sending u screenshots from his notes app with his favorite colors, songs, what cake he wants, etc. lowkey insufferable

- day comes and you’ve rented out the kid’s bday party section of a bowling alley/arcade and filled it with every friend you can think of that isn’t vaguely shitty or hasn’t been burned by zeke in some way. so like… maybe 10 people, gabi and the kids included so they have a believable cover story if the staff asks who the party’s for. not that they’d care but zeke loves to play like he’s so sNeAkY and sHiFty by telling everyone it’s a party for udo or something.

- that man can BOWL and he’s an ass about it. the sorest winner in the world. in every universe he will knock down 10 or more little dudes with a rock and cheer and whoop and holler like an idiot. jeering at porco when he gets a gutter ball and you see reiner pull him aside like “just let him have it today. its his big day.” as if it is not ALSO reiner’s big day

- played with the idea of him getting a devil’s food cake and reiner getting an angel’s food cake for the lolz but he’s not sharing a party on his life so. coffee cake 100%, both because he likes it and because the kids don’t, which means more to take home. schemer that he is

- does ask for gifts but is pretty insistent about it being under 20 dollars (so he can see who overspent and ACTUALLY loves him. male manipulator). falco gets him an officially licensed sock monkey and he cries (pussy). whispering to u after that if his parents ever die horribly he’ll adopt him

- heading to the connected arcade after and, second verse same as the first, he kills at skee ball. breaks the record on each machine one after the other just to show off, gets all smirky holding the wad of tickets, talking about how he “does it all for uuuuu” and gives u the wettest sloppiest kiss on the cheek just to embarrass u

- does actually give u all his winnings tho. the high score, the posterity, the want to be remembered,,, the ego boost is enough, u can have the 2100 ticket pikachu plush <3 (u will never hear the end of this. i pity u)

- def gets home with his leftover dessert in hand and gifts in bags on his wrist, smile more genuine than usual. opening the door and letting u in, gifts and food quickly forgotten in lieu of giving you a proper thank you for helping put all this together

- 100% squeezing ur ass and asking if there’s any leftover cake for him, knowing it’ll make u roll your eyes but that you’ll relent bc the cheese is part of the charm (and boy when he gets that treat he asked for? he EATS)

reiner

- something something something same birthday complete opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of how they celebrate it

- wants his bday to be a nice quiet affair with the people he loves most, his little found family and maybe karina if hes feeling generous that year

- if u plan a party in any capacity hes gotta be part of the action! wants to hang streamers, balloons, any little things you decide on to spruce up your place for the event (please don’t call it an event he can’t handle the pressure)

- also u can’t have a cookout bday bc he will insist on working the grill the whole time. shark coded, will drown if he isn’t doing something 

- the party itself is extremely laidback, feels more like a big hangout. ordering 3 of his favorite type of pizza, bringing out beanbags and comfy chairs from other parts of the house so everyone can sit in the living room together. gabi and falco take the tv hostage to play video games and colt and bertholdt somehow get roped into it. it’s raucous, but comfortable.

- u and gabi collab on a homemade cake, but reiner is the baker in the family and gabi just likes the excuse to make a mess. end up making some easy cookies and buying a walmart sheet cake, and its a good thing, too, because just the sight of his name is enough to make him tear up. “you didn’t have to do all this” what, make a phone call to get ur name on a cake? the bar is on the floor unfortunately

- no presents because he can’t handle the pressure, but there’s a couple cards and his lip trembles over each one. zeke gets him a card that’s obviously for kids with stickers inside but he tears up at that one too because “it even comes with a little gift… so thoughtful…”

- rest of the party is spent doing more of the same, a couple beers are thrown back, maybe tosses a football around or something. very classic suburban white picket fence dream party. it brings reiner a quiet joy, one that he keeps close to his chest, a memory that he’ll look back on over and over.

- the guests start to filter out one by one until its just u and him, picking up paper plates, putting away leftovers. its all very domestic, it might actually be reiner’s favorite part. to just be with u in companionable silence, scooting around and putting the house in order. domesticity is something sacred that he never thought he’d have, and its a joy to share it with u.

- he INSISTS on sitting on the couch with u after, gives u those big eyes that he only gets when he wants u to pet his hair, falls asleep to one of his favorite comfort films with your hands on his head, totally content

- wakes up in the wee hours and carries u to bed like the big bear of a man that he is, not expecting anything of you, just wanting u to be comfortable. tucks u in and gives u a kiss like it’s your birthday or something

- and it’s not a gift bc reiner specifically requested no gifts, but if he wakes up to u wearing something special the next morning, something that leaves nothing to the imagination, i mean… maybe the party doesn’t have to be over quite yet

#reiner braun #zeke yaeger #reiner braun x reader #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke #rei #aot #cakecore #question mark #reimar #zeke yeager x reader

[octuscle]

So I activated the "Blending In" preset in the Chronivac and set it to Slow Burn mode. I'm not sure how long it would take to make changes, but to have some fun, I also made sure I'm only partially aware.

Went to this gym nearby, though maybe it was bad timing that there were those toxic school bullies and big meatheads. Well, they're actually fine when they start talking with me like I belonged. Maybe they're alright.

Of course you're not one of them. You play the cello in the school orchestra, are active in the student council and are involved in animal protection. But still, it was cool with the guys. Their tips sounded quite useful. And after you had a big protein shake with the boys after training, you had a lot of fun farting in the competition. No question, you came in last place.

Then outside the gym they went back to pretending they didn't know you. Nick, the alpha meathead, almost ran you over with his motorbike in the gym car park. Anyway, maybe he just didn't see you.

The next morning you wake up full of energy. You jump out of bed, do 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups and go to the bathroom. Hehehehe, should there really be some beard fuzz? You shave every morning anyway, hoping that the beard will finally grow more. Maybe that will finally be successful. Don't bother with the shower. Today you're going to the gym again after school anyway, so you can take a shower then. A quick sniff in the armpit. Still working. To save time, you put on yesterday's gym clothes for school.

In class today you find it harder than usual to concentrate. In maths you actually nod off for a few minutes. But Nick actually greets you in the corridor with a fist bump. And he even talks to you when you finally get to lie on the weight bench and lift weights after school. After the workout, the boys ask you if you'd like to come watch football in the diner. You'd love to. But you have driving school today. You want to finally get your licence for the motorbike.

The next morning, when you go to the bathroom after your run, push-ups and sit-ups, you notice that you didn't shower yesterday. Armpit check. Fuck, you finally smell like a man. And the hair in your armpits finally comes out. You pose in front of the mirror. Yes, the training is paying off. And the protein shakes too. You'll be further ahead in the next farting competition.

You forgot to do your homework at school. That has never happened to you before in your life. When your French teacher asks you how you want to excuse it (en francais, s'il vous-plait), you let out a loud burp. You have detention. The boys in the back row applaud. And burp even louder. Gym is cancelled today. Or rather, it will take place for all of you without dumbbells during detention. With burpees and farts. When you are released, your teacher has to hold a handkerchief over her mouth and nose.

On the way to school, Nick and you have a race on your motorbikes. Shit, you lose. And the winner gets to fart in the loser's face during the bench press. Nick's farts are the worst. Thank God the first two hours are sport. Football is your favourite hobby after pumping iron. And Coach is very happy with you. Let's see if the quarterback position works out for you next season. At the end of practice, Coach reads out a message that you are specifically asked to shower after practice. Classmates and faculty have complained. What pussies! But you combine the pleasant with the useful. When jerking off in the shower, you become second in width to the cum.

Saturday at last! All day in the gym and then cruising with the bikes in the evening. Nick is already waiting for you, talking football with your old man. And about the army. If graduation doesn't work out, this could be a real alternative for you. Your father was in the Navy Seals himself and, unlike your mother, doesn't think it's a bad idea.

At the gym, Nick is whining about how envious he is of your beard growth. And how shitty he thinks it is that his parents don't allow him to get tattoos. Anyway, after the summer it's either college or military academy. Then you can do whatever you want.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #hairy pits #male transformation #muscle transformation

[malkahpariyz]

The quote above is what I have been saying forever to these men who have an issue with me being an outstanding leader of a woman… and it is refreshing to finally here it come from a man’s mouth.

It’s a lot of DUMMY men out here who truly think we should be following them as women when they are quite literally ignorant, lost, and mislead men... and they get mad at us and assassinate our womanhood the moment they realize we are MORE than them and we are more capable of leading ourselves and others in the proper directions exponentially more than they are. They are mad at us because we know better and are better than any and everything they are about & anything and everything they have to say or do. They are mad at us because they are less than the man they should be. They are mad at us, because even as women, we stand to be more equipped and capable than even them, as a man. You are not too strong woman, these men are too weak for you. These weak men are offended by you because EVERYTHING YOU ARE reminds them of what THEY ARE NOT… but yet are supposed to be as a man, but are not, because they are not proper or real men… and they seek to take their faults and insecurities out on you, and instead of admitting to themselves that they are shitty leaders, they accuse you of being too much of a leader for them to handle or like or want in a woman.

Something these weak men should know: We absolutely are submissive. We are just not submissive to anything DUMB WRONG OR WEIRD or whatever we know better than already. We submit to the men who are actually fit to lead women like us who already know how to lead ourselves properly and refuse to be led astray. If we know better than you we know better than you. If we are more equipped than you, we are more equipped! And we are not going to pretend like we are not just for your egos sake. Y’all mad at us because we are not about to submit to anything less than us or beneath us. And we do not follow behind any advice, statements, or commands that WE KNOW FAR BETTER THAN (and trust me we do know better than it and it’s confirmed that we do know better than it)…and we not about to pretend like we don’t just for your sake. We are not about to play dumb or follow blindly for anybody. Period.

Ladies, it’s time for us to realize that the only men that have issues with us are the ones who are BENEATH us. When you find a man who is ACTUALLY fit to lead you, he will have no issue with the incredibly strong leader you already are. In fact it will impress him and turn him on.

Hear this ladies, and say it with me: These weak men are the only ones who have an issue with you being strong. These dumb men are the only ones who have an issue with you being intelligent. These lost men are the only ones who have an issue with you having found yourself. These men who don’t know God properly are the only ones who have an issue with you knowing God and His words, more well and more accurately than they do. These men who are disconnected from God and can’t hear His voice are the only ones with an issue with what God has told YOU. These broke men are the only men who have an issue with you being rich. These talentless men are the only ones intimidated or jealous of your talent. These misled men are the only ones who have an issue with you being a proper leader. These loser men are the only ones with an issue with you being a winner. These men who ain’t going nowhere in life are the only ones who got an issue with where you are going in life. These unmanly men are the only ones that feel emasculated by you.

Continue to be a lioness Queen, soon your King will be in effect.

- The Modest Blog

#parisdior #love #melanin #black femininity #fashion #modest #modestclothing #modestfashion #modesty #protect black women #black women #black power #blacklivesmatter #blackownedbusiness #carefree black girl #black girl magic #black girl aesthetic #blackexcellence #blacklove #black people #support black women #black girls rock #empowerment #empoweredwoman #healthy femininity #black feminism #black feminist theory #black femme #black female supremacy #top posts

[hengqarae]

to the victor go the spoils

PAIRING ❄ lee chan x afab!reader WORD COUNT ❄ 11.3k GENRE ❄ chan is a bartender au, romance, smut (minors dni), mutual pining, angst WARNINGS ❄ legal alcohol consumption, making out, swearing, oral (f receiving), not proofread

chan is the bartender at your favorite restaurant, and you're his favorite patron: the person that comes in every single week with a new guy, always wearing the same perfume and always ordering the same thing, always complaining to him about the losers that your father keeps setting you up with. he'll lose his mind soon if he keeps having to watch you on these shitty dates. how much longer until he's declared the winner and you finally choose him?

PLAYLIST ❄ love language by sza / go crazy by leslie odom jr. / vanilla by kai / lies by marina and the diamonds / what can i do by reneé rapp / nervous by john legend / chance with you by mehro / maroon by taylor swift / toy by block b FROM THE AUTHOR ❄ thanks for reading <3 the beginning is stronger than the end because i got covid in the midst of this and lost my motivation, but i hope you enjoy it regardless! have a safe and fun transition into the new year, if you observe it :)

Chan thinks that he must be losing his mind. 

He started bartending when he was in college, just as soon as he was legally able to do so. Known for having a competitive streak, the fact that he needed to pass a test to obtain licensure to serve alcohol spurred him on more than it should have. He was even more motivated when his friend, Soonyoung, wasn’t able to pass it himself. He landed a job at one of the more upscale restaurants almost immediately and being downtown meant that the people were more affluent and, thus, more generous. It was a total win for him, and nearly three years later, he’s still around. Chan only really bartends on weekends, reserving his weekdays to get his schoolwork done. In all honestly, he doesn’t need the job. He’s never needed it, but he’s stuck around for so long because he enjoys meeting different types of people; he likes hearing the deep, dark secrets that spill out once enough alcohol has been consumed; and he really appreciates the ego boost that he gets every time an older woman comes in and tips him generously, just because they think he’s cute. 

It’s not his job that’s making him feel like he’s losing his mind. He likes his job, and he’ll be satisfied with the time he’s spent behind his bar once he finally graduates and moves on to something more applicable to his degree. No, he feels like he’s losing his mind because of one specific patron. There’s this one gorgeous individual that comes in every Friday night, always meeting a different man, but always wearing the same floral perfume and wearing the same silver necklace that dangles around their neck, resting on their sternum, glinting in the dim lights of the restaurant. This person always arrives early and sits at the bar, talking with Chan about school, about their family, about how poorly they know their date will go. They’re always sitting at the same table, one of the ones closest to the bar, and they always order the same thing. The dates always last two hours and not one minute longer, and Chan always feels a sense of longer after they bid him farewell and leave the restaurant, the scent of their perfume never lingering for long enough. 

Chan is absolutely enamored with this one individual, but he’d rather plead insanity than admit that. 

“Hi Chan,” You sigh, sliding onto the barstool that was situated directly in front of him. You shift until you’re comfortable, placing your bag on the counter. Chan, in the middle of washing and drying his shaker, offers you a smile without actually looking up at you. His heart has been racing since he caught sight of you walking in, and he’s afraid that if he looks at you, it’ll induce a heart attack. He could already tell from across the restaurant that you looked good, even better than usual. You smell even better than usual, too. He’s sure that nothing has actually changed, though, and that serves as just another sign that he’s losing his mind. “How was your week?” 

You follow his movements with your eyes as he places the shaker on the counter, throwing his hand towel over his shoulder and wiping his forehead with the back of one of his hands. One of his rings catches the light and you’re drawn to his hand, shifting uncomfortably on your stool when you notice how pretty his hands are. It takes you another minute to notice, but his hair’s lighter this week than it was last week. He must have had more free time than usual, dying it and all. “It was okay. I lost a bet and had to dye my hair. I’m also considering sleeping with my neuroscience professor so that I pass the class. “ 

“Your exam didn’t go well, then?” Chan shakes his head. “Is she cute, at least?” 

“Yeah, he’s pretty easy on the eyes!” 

He’s able to make you laugh so effortlessly. You throw your head back, hands gripping the countertop so that you don’t lose your balance and slide off your seat. Chan smiles to himself, turning so that he can start mixing you up a drink. This week, like every other week, you were going to get whatever he decided to give you. It’s not like he charged you for drinks anyway. When you finally settle your laughter, wiping away a tear that had started to collect at your waterline, you watch him make his drink. You smoothen your expression when you realize the fond smile that was plastered on your face for everybody to see, and your heart aches when you think about leaving Chan to sit through another dry, humorless, boring date for two hours. 

This was the reason you always made sure to arrive early at the restaurant. You always insisted on driving yourself, you always made sure to arrive thirty minutes early, and you always soaked in as much time as you could get with Chan before you were subjected to yet another torturous date that your father had planned out for you. Your dates were never able to hold a conversation as well as Chan could. With him, words flowed naturally. He didn’t talk about himself too much, and he remembered anything that you told him, and you had considered, on multiple occasions, skipping your dates in favor of sitting with Chan through your shift. Up until now, you had never been able to find the courage to do so. 

Only recently, you had realized that maybe, possibly, you had started to harbor a little crush on him. Keeping that in consideration, it was unlikely that you would ever find the courage to engage in anything further with him. Your weekly chats were doomed to remain as weekly, thirty-minute occurrences, no matter how much more of him you found yourself craving. 

“What about you? How was your week?” 

“It was okay.” You echo his words, eyes trailing his movements again as he sets your drink in front of you. He steps away to tend to the other patrons, and your heart aches again as you watch him laugh and flirt with the females perched at the bar. You aren’t jealous, per se – you've known Chan for long enough to be able to recognize his fake, polite smiles from his genuine ones, and you’re able to find some comfortable in the fact that the smiles he gives you are different from the one he’s offering to those other customers right now. You hum quietly and take a sip of your cocktail, eyebrows knitting together as you taste it. When Chan returns, you ask what he made you. 

“It’s called a Painkiller.” He grins, grabbing the bottle of rum he had mixed in to show you what he had used. “I figured you were going to need one. Today is lucky number seventeen, right?” 

You raise your eyebrows, a smile growing on your face. “How did you remember that?” 

“It’s a good number.” He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the other side of the bar. “So, your week was okay? Why’s that?” 

You sigh, massaging your temples to prevent the headache that tended to appear whenever you recounted everything that was stressing you out. “I have my thesis proposal in a few weeks, and my defense closer to the end of the semester, but my dad is still incessant on setting me up on these dates. He wants me to be engaged by graduation, but I don’t even know if I want to be married. It feels like a war of attrition.” 

“Should I make you another one? A little stronger?” 

He’s just joking, evident by his grin, but you almost want to take him up on his offer. Tonight’s date, whose name you couldn’t even recall, was projected to be especially bad. The guys that your dad seemed to like the most always ended up being the worst. You straighten yourself back up with another sigh, and Chan curses under his breath as you offer him a tired smile that makes his stomach somersault in response. Your lipstick smudges against the glass as you take another sip of your drink, and he thinks that the shade you’re wearing tonight would look good on him, too. 

Just not on his lips. 

“It’s so tiring.” You take another long sip of your drink, your tongue poking out to collect the liquid that had gotten caught at the corner of your mouth. Chan has to look away, face nearly contorting in pain as he feels himself straining against his pants. He’s thankful to be hidden behind the bar tonight; you looked and smelled even better up close. He’s more thankful that your outfit is a little more conservative than what you had worn last week. That white outfit had revealed just enough to put his imagination into overdrive. He was still thinking about how good you had looked. He had jacked himself off to thoughts of removing the outfit, draping it carefully over the back of his desk chair before fucking you into his mattress, more times than he’d feel comfortable admitting to anyone. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a few breaths to keep from getting hard again, turning around only when he’s ready. You had descended into a rant about your love life, and he wishes that he hadn’t entered the conversation that you were having with yourself. 

“--like, what if I don’t want to be married? That’s not crazy, it’s almost 2023! I haven’t even had sex in months because my dad keeps setting me up with losers. It’s not for lack of trying, either; these stupid dates occupy all of my free time, and the only redeeming part of these dates are the free meals and being able to sit with you beforehand. I’m exhausted, though, Chan. Seriously. I-I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be meeting tonight! My dad says that he really likes him, but I don’t even know what his name is. It’s either Minho, or Mingyu... it could be Minhyung, too, though. I don’t--” 

As much as Chan would enjoy talking about your sex life with you, his attention is brought from you to the door of the restaurant, and he straightens up as a young man walks into the space. There’s no doubt that he’s your date, Minho or Mingyu or Minhyung or whatever, if his Armani suit, Rolex watch, and excess of hair gel is anything to go by. Chan clears his throat, looking from the man to you and then back as the man continues his trek toward the bar. “Should I start a tab for you?” 

That was code. You straighten your own posture, taking a deep breath before turning in your seat, a saccharine smile decorating your features. Chan knows you too well by now to be fooled by the mask that you slip on whenever you’re on a date. He collects your bag as you’re led away by your date, tucking it underneath the bar while he starts washing some glasses. The sight of you getting whisked away had become nausea-inducing for him, and tonight was no exception. As soon as you had taken your date’s hand, Chan had looked away to avoid getting sick. He keeps an inconspicuous eye on you as your date pulls out your chair for you, busying himself as you get your date started. He knows that you’d much rather be spending your time with him – you'd said so just earlier, after all – but he can’t help the dull ache in his chest at the sight of seeing you with another man. 

The only consolation for him was that he would see you again in a week’s time, laughing once again at his jokes, further exacerbating the symptoms of his lovesickness. He mutters under his breath as he finishes cleaning his glasses, setting them on the countertop to dry. He offers one final glance in your direction, his chest clenching when he sees that you’re already looking at him, in a plea for help that you both know he can’t answer. 

The bar gets crowded as the night continues, and Chan occupies himself with other patrons. He’s trying to compartmentalize, trying to forget that you were somewhere else in the restaurant, but it’s hard; with every fake laugh that he hears from you, a warmth blooms in his chest. He’s the only person in the whole joint that has ever made you genuinely laugh, and he carries that knowledge with pride. 

Two hours come and go, and just like clockwork, you bid goodbye to your date. It was unusual for you to settle back at the bar following your dates, but you chose to do so tonight. Chan knows that usually, you’re so tired from listening to your dates talk about themselves without reprieve that you just bid Chan farewell and leave immediately after your dates. He’s happy that you’re back, but there’s always a fear that lingers in the back of his mind that one day, the reason that you’ve come back is to tell him that you had a really good date and that you’d be going on another one with the same guy. He hasn’t prepared himself for when that day comes. 

“That fucking sucked,” You groan, covering your face with your hands. Chan tries, and fails, to bite back a smile, setting a glass of water down in front of you. You grumble a quiet thanks, sipping your water as the bartender floats around behind the bar, checking in and cashing out his patrons. You lean back as best as you can while sitting on a barstool, watching him as he starts cleaning up. His shift should be over soon. You always scheduled your dates halfway through Chan’s shifts so that, whenever you stuck around, you could walk out with him. It felt like a reward for getting through the awful date in the first place. 

Your breath hitches every time that Chan breezes past you, and you curse yourself for that. While your date with Minhyuk – you had learned his name, finally – hadn't been the worst date that you’d ever experienced, he was definitely getting struck from your father’s (dwindling) list of potential sons-in-law. You try to wrack your brain and figure out how many people were left on that list. Once you reach the end, you’ll need to find a new reason to come to the restaurant every week; having a crush on one of the bartenders, you’d rationalized, was not a good enough reason to come all the way downtown every Friday. 

It feels like your heart is being squeezed when you dare to look to your left and see Chan flirting with one of his female customers. Her fingers are dancing on his chest, and you nearly fall off your stool when she dares to unbutton his shirt a little more. You know that you can’t fault him for someone else’s behavior, but if generous tips meant that you could help him out of his shirt, you’d start bringing some cash with you. 

“Gimme a few more minutes!” Chan offers in passing, causing you to perk up a little. It was cathartic, spending time with him. Your dates were draining but being with Chan had the opposite effect. You felt like being with him recharged you, like you could endure another two hours with another loser if you had time with him in between. Two hours with one of your father’s dates felt like a torturous eternity, but two hours felt like ten minutes with Chan. It didn’t feel fair. 

Your stomach does a flip when Chen rounds the bar. The sleeves of his black button-down have been pushed up to his elbows, and his shirt is unbuttoned dangerously low. You knit your eyebrows together, beckoning him closer so that you can button him back up. He laughs quietly as you do it, and you hope that by ignoring the warmth that’s flooding into your face, he won’t notice it. You use his shoulder to steady yourself as you dismount from your stool, smiling as he offers you your bag. You take it, slipping it over your shoulder, tailing him as the two of you make your exit out of the restaurant. He bids farewell to the remaining staff, holding open doors for you until you’ve both made it into the elevator. 

Chan’s heart is thudding heavily against his ribcage, and he hopes that the elevator music is loud enough that you can’t hear it. This wasn’t a weekly occurrence, per se, but it was still rare that he was afforded the opportunity to walk you back to your car. His fingers itch to reach for you, to pin you against the wall of the elevator and to press his lips on every inch of your exposed skin, but he refrains. Instead, he leans against the wall, trying to appear nonchalant, while you stand, rigid, next to him, wringing your hands together. It’s not necessarily awkward, but you’re suddenly missing the bar that usually separates the two of you. Conversation flowed easier when you were able to sit safely on the other side of the bar. 

“How was your date? Bad, you said? N-No, wait, you said that it ‘fucking sucked,’ right?” 

You groan, shaking your head at the reminder of why you had come to the restaurant in the first place – something that had been lost as you sat at the bar, daydreaming about what it would be like to go on a date with Chan instead. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It would be so easy to just, like, tolerate someone, right? I don’t know why I can’t just find someone that I can tolerate and call it a day.” 

“You have standards. Big deal.” He scoffs, trailing after you once the elevator opens. Your pace is slow as the two of you meander through the parking garage, in pursuit of a goal (your car) but with no sense of urgency. You shake your head, letting your hands fall to your sides. 

“Standards are one thing, Chan, but I haven’t had sex in months, and I haven’t even kissed anyone in weeks. I’m just so worn out from all these shitty dates. Between writing my thesis, studying and reading for my classes, and then carving out three hours every Friday night to listen to a different loser talk about himself and his stocks, I feel like I’m on a downward trajectory.” 

Chan’s eyebrows raise, but he quickly smoothens his expression because you’re turning to look at him, expectant, like he should be offering something insight or helpful. He has nothing prepared. As soon as you mentioned kissing, he started thinking about how it’d be to have you pinned against the flat surface, to have your lips on his. He clears his throat. “W-Why haven’t you been kissing your dates?” 

“I used to!” You groan, propping your hands on your hips. “I used to, but then they’d always call me the next day. So, I stopped kissing on the first date, and they stopped thinking that there would be a second date. None of them were any good, either! It was like kissing cement.” 

“Soft yet firm?” 

“Cold and wet.” 

“God, where did your dad find these guys? Reddit?” 

You laugh, and it echoes through the parking garage, and Chan feels light on his feet. He tucks his hands into his pockets, looking down at the asphalt as the two of you continue your stroll. He’s considering his options of what he could say next, and suddenly, he wishes that he’d thrown back a shot or two during his shift. “Y-You can teach someone how to be a better kisser, though. I don’t think that should be, like, a dealbreaker.” 

“I mean, sure. Yeah, that’s true. It’s... less about the actual kiss, though. Y’know?” Chan knits his eyebrows together, confused, and you sigh before elaborating. “Like... I didn’t feel anything. There should be sparks or something, but there was nothing like that. It’d probably be more gratifying to kiss a piece of cardboard.” You catch a glimpse of a column and an image of Chan pushing you up against it, lips fiery against yourself, causes you to grimace. If only. 

Chan hums in response, at a loss for words, afraid that there’s nothing left that he could offer to the conversation unless you were looking for him to get on his knees to beg, to plead, for you to give him a chance. He was a good kisser and everything! You stop walking and he lifts his head, his heart falling as he realizes that the two of you have reached your destination. He’d wasted all of his precious time convincing you that you should be less harsh on your dates if they were bad at something teachable. 

How nice of him. 

“Thanks for walking me.” You say, eyes fixating on the strands of hair that had come undone and that were resting in front of Chan’s eyes. You're itching to reach forward and sweep them out of his face, but you refrain. 

“You’re welcome.” 

The two of you lapse into silence, staring at each other. There’s a warmth that’s creeping across your body, starting in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was tactless to talk about kissing other men in front of Chan, but a small part of you had been hoping that he would contribute differently. Maybe he would offer to kiss you. Maybe you could fulfill your desire to have his hands on you. Maybe he would press his lips against yours, and there’d be fireworks, and you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about coming to the restaurant to see him instead of going on your stupid dates. 

Chan is kind. He’s handsome. He’s gentle, and he’s funny, and he’s sexy, and there’s nothing more that you want in this moment than to have his tongue down your throat. 

He forces a smile, nodding before turning on his heel, but you reach forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm. He turns back to you, eyebrows quirked upward. It’s sitting there, right at the tip of your tongue. Can you kiss me? Can we kiss? 

You aren’t able to convince yourself to verbalize your desire, though. Instead, you open your mouth, and then close it, and release him. “S-Sorry.” 

“Are you okay?” 

No, I’m not okay, but it would make it better if you kissed me. “Yeah! I’m good. Sorry.” 

He doesn’t seem convinced, and he hesitates to say or do anything else. He’s providing you with a window of opportunity, but you aren’t ready to take it. You want to take it – God, you want him pressed against you so badly – but you just aren’t ready. You’ll suppress your feelings, at least for another week. Maybe you’d have the courage next time that you see him. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah. Yeah! I’m sure. I’ll see you next week.” 

He knows you too well to accept the fake smile that you offer him, but he’s too dejected to say anything. Next week. On another date. Another date with a different man. What did he need to do to show you that he was better than all of your stupid dates, combined? 

“Okay.” He offers you a fake smile in return. “Goodnight.” 

+ + +

You should have kissed Chan. 

It was pathetic, the way that you got home that night, unable to stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stop imagining him, imagining what could have been, even after slipping your fingers into your underwear and making yourself cum... twice. You had hoped that you could scratch the itch and it would go away; that was not the case. You touched yourself while imagining that it was him, deep and slow, planting wet kisses along the column of your throat while your hands roamed all over his body. Even after orgasming, you still felt unsatisfied. 

Maybe, if you had kissed him, your curiosity would have been squashed. Maybe there wouldn’t have been any sparks. Maybe he could have told you that he wasn’t interested, and you would have been able to return to the platonic relationship that you’d had before you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe you would lose out on Chan but, eventually, you’d meet someone that you could tolerate. 

Or, maybe, you would have kissed, and it would have become something more. Maybe you could have asked him to take you in your backseat and he would have, deep and slow, fogging up the windows. Maybe you could have ignited the spark that’s always been there, and you would be able to convince your father that you were happy, that you didn’t need to meet anybody else. 

That’s why it’s Saturday night, the very next day, and you’re contemplating getting dressed up and going down to the restaurant. You didn’t have a date – you never scheduled dates outside of your Friday nights. You would be getting dressed up and fighting traffic just so that you could sit at the bar and talk to Chan. Just so, for one more night than usual, you could bask in the attention that he gave you. You could take advantage of his availability and take more than you deserved from him. 

Your body trembles at the thought of seeing him again. You could wear something more revealing; you could dress up even nicer than usual, and you could tempt him. You could dangle yourself in front of him and see if he, too, has an itch to scratch. 

But would that be fair to him? 

No, it wouldn’t. You might as well be throwing yourself at him, showing your tits and forcing him to look. Chan is a sweet guy. He’s kind and gentle, he’s funny and he’s compassionate, and you don’t need to stoop to the level of some of his other patrons, the ones that touch him and flirt with him and make him work even harder for his tips. As much as you’d love to have your hands on him, to flirt with him (and have him flirt back), you know it wouldn’t be fair to him. You’re friends now, after everything. 

You’re friends. That’s how you rationalize showing up to the restaurant in a hoodie instead. 

He spots you as soon as you walk in, smiling and laughing with the hostess, and your heartrate quickens as you cross the space. His eyes are on you the entire time, like he can’t believe that you’re real. It’s Saturday night, right? You wouldn’t be wearing that on a date, right? 

“I never thought I’d see the day.” He laughs, nervously, arms crossing over his chest as you situate yourself on your usual barstool. Why are you here right now? Should he be worried? 

You offer a bashful smile in response, face already feeling warm under his gaze. “Jenn said the same thing.” Chan continues staring at you, still trying to gauge if you were a mirage or not. You adjust the strings of your hoodie, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “W-What?” 

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” He starts, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I just don’t know if I should be worried that you’re here right now. This is out of character for you.” 

“I just wanted to see you.” You scoff, suddenly scrambling to add to that once you realize how it sounded. “T-To hang out with you for m-more than, like, thirty minutes.” 

Chan keeps his expression even, but internally, he’s screaming gleefully. Still, he can’t hide the small smile that blooms on his face. “Are you drinking tonight?” 

You hold up hands up, absolving yourself from the responsibility of choosing a drink. “I have no free will here, Chan. You know that.” 

“If you had done better research before showing up and asking for a ‘blue motherfucker,’ whatever the hell that even is, then I wouldn’t have taken away your freedom of choice.” He scoffs, turning around to start concocting you a drink. Today, you’ll get a vodka martini, just to keep things simple. Chan still isn’t fully convinced that he should be happy that you’ve come by, even though the warm feeling in his chest says otherwise. 

You’re grateful to be able to take your drink and gulp it down. Hopefully, the alcohol will loosen you up. You’re practically buzzing, as if you were being risky or adventurous by visiting the restaurant just to see Chan, outside of your normal routine. He’s alarmed that you’re drinking so much right from the start, and so he leans forward, resting his arms on the bar top and speaking as low as he can. “Are you okay? Seriously.” 

“Stop harassing me.” You frown, waving him off. “I’m fine, Chan. I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

He’s not convinced, but still, he steps away and takes some time to check in with the other customers. It was slow for a Saturday night; you were surprised, and also thankful, that there were barstools open. Had you not been able to sit at the bar, you probably would’ve turned around and driven home. There was no reason to come to this place if you weren’t going to be able to see Chan. 

“I’m just worried.” Chan sighs, sliding back in front of you. You groan and he holds his hands up. “Look, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you on any day other than a Friday, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in casual clothes, too. I’m trying to figure out if this is one of the signs of the apocalypse. There’s gotta be something you aren’t telling me.” 

“I already told you that I came to hang out with you.” 

“I’m not worth that.” 

“Says who?” 

You realize what you’ve said only after the words tumble out of your lips. You’re quick to raise your glass back to your lips, turning your face away. If Chan heard you, he doesn’t act like it. Instead, he clucks his tongue at you and steps away to tend to one of the waitresses that had approved the bar. You feel like you can stop holding your breath only after he’s stepped out of your zone of proximity. 

Chan heard you, though. He heard you loud and clear, and now he’s afraid that his heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he won’t be able to hear anything else that anyone might tell him tonight. He fumbles his way through two Cosmopolitan orders and chooses to clean his spills immediately so that he has some time to even out his breathing before he faces you again. You really came all the way downtown to see him? It doesn’t seem real to him. Was this an episode of Punk’d? 

He’s gone for long enough that you start to panic. You hadn’t betrayed yourself that badly, so why was he keeping his distance? Maybe he’s known all along that you have a crush on him, and maybe you just confirmed it for it, and now, you’ve ruined your friendship and any possibility of becoming more than friends, which means you can’t come back to the restaurant anymore and-- 

“Do you want another, or do you want something different?” 

Chan gestures to your drink. You look down, see it’s empty, and realize that you hadn’t even realized you had finished it off. “Surprise me.” Preferably, with something stronger. 

Your knowledge of cocktails and liquor in general was, admittedly, poor. However, you feel proud of yourself when you’re able to identify what Chan has made you before he even hands it to you. In fact, if you had to pick a favorite cocktail, you’d probably say Shirley Temple. Chan notices how wide you smile when he sets your drink down, and he makes a mental note to add Shirley Temples into your rotation of drinks. 

“How much longer ‘til you’re off?” You ask, stirring your drink. Chan takes a moment to check his watch. 

“In... eight minutes.” 

You raise your eyebrows, checking the time for yourself on your phone. You had intended to leave your apartment right at seven, but it was already almost nine. You must have spent more time than you realized to deliberate coming here or not. “What are you doing after you’re off?” 

“Usually, I’d be going home. Unless...” Your heartrate quickens in anticipation. Chan takes a breath, steeling himself. “I have another neuroscience exam coming up in a few weeks. What are the odds you’d want to help me study?” 

“I’m better at human anatomy, but I can try.” 

Chan realizes what you’ve said before you do, and he’s laughing so hard that he has to turn around to compose himself. You groan, rubbing your temples, a nervous smile decorating your features. If you had only used a different tone, you could’ve taken the opportunity to try and flirt with Chan. Instead, he wipes tears from his eyes, still laughing quietly. You’re left to ruminate while he starts his final rounds, cashing out patrons and bidding his farewells with a newfound pep in his step. You don’t notice, too focused on cursing yourself internally. 

You’re forced to chug down your drink only when you notice that Chan is already rounding the bar. He gapes at you before laughing again. “You’re gonna be so drunk later.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You huff, taking his outstretched hand to help yourself down from your stool. You almost whine at the loss of touch when he pulls his hand back, but your chest flutters when he settles behind you, hand pressing against your lower back to usher you through the restaurant that had finally started to become crowded. He bids one final farewell to Jenn, the hostess, his cheeks burning as she gestures between the two of you and winks. Chan’s thankful that you didn’t notice. 

He knows that it’s only a matter of time until your intoxication hits, and since he’s never seen you drunk before, he needs to get you to a more controlled setting. Chan can only assume that you’re a lightweight based on the partying stories you’ve told him, and his hand had been a little heavier tonight than usual – he was going to blame that on you, breaking your routine and thoroughly shaking him up. 

“This is the part where I find out that you’re actually a murderer, right?” You tease, rocking back and forth on your heels as the elevator makes it descent. 

Chan laughs, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not a murderer.” 

“Unfortunately?” 

“That’s what I said,” He’s nonchalant as you follow him out and back into the parking garage. You’re getting déjà vu, but you’re trying your best to swallow down the same urges that you had last night. Instead, you’re quiet as you follow him through the garage to his car. Chan hums quietly to himself, his hands tucked into his pockets again. Only once you’ve reached his car does he pull them out, opening the passenger door for you. You quirk your eyebrows at him, an amused smile ghosting your lips. The tips of his ears bloom red almost immediately. “D-Don’t look at me like that!” 

“Like what?” You laugh, feigning innocence as he closes the door, and you twist to buckle yourself in. He shakes his head at you again, climbing in and getting the car started. Almost immediately, his fingers itch to reach out and lace with yours, but he swallows thickly, choosing to ignore that urge. “Your car will be safe here while we’re gone.” 

“This means that you’re committing to bringing me back here, though. No matter when we finish tonight.” 

Chan holds up one of his hands while he eases his steering wheel with the other. “I promise to uphold that commitment.” 

“You’re annoying.” You scoff, without any real bite to your words. Chan smiles in response, and soon, the car lapses into silence. The radio of his car plays softly while he navigates the car through downtown, but to your surprise, he’s pulling into another garage only a few minutes later. “Wait, do you live downtown?” 

“Is that surprising?” 

“Yes, actually. Why aren’t you walking to work?” 

“Because it’s winter. Plus, I don’t want to get kidnapped.” 

“Why would you get kidnapped?” 

“Cute people get kidnapped.” 

“So why are you worried?” 

Chan sucks in a breath before he reaches over and pinches your thigh. You swat him away, laughing, warning him that he was going to crash if he didn’t pay attention to the road. Begrudgingly, he returns both of his hands to the steering wheel, but not without muttering a few insults back at you under his breath. You left that slide since you’d instigated it, but if it meant he’d put his hands on you, you’d probably try to rile him up a little more time. 

He parks the car without any further hitches. He lets you open your door for yourself while he opens up the backseat, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, messy hair and unbuttoned shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulder; he looked less like Chan the bartender and more like Chan the student. 

He looked good either way, but being a student yourself, you’re a little more partial to the latter. 

It’s nice, being able to spend time with Chan outside of your... arrangement. Each time that the two of you fall quiet, it feels less and less awkward. The two of you stand closer to each other in the elevator this time, and even though the desire to ask him to stick his tongue down your throat is ever-present, it’s not as prominent. Chan is your friend. He’s your sexy, intelligent friend, and you’ve gotten off to thoughts of him fucking you with his tongue more times than you’d like to admit, but you feel happy, being invited to see this other part of his life. 

“How are you feeling? Drunk yet?” 

You shake your head, tailing after him as he lets himself into his apartment. Your first impression is that it’s clean, cleaner than you had expected from a college boy. After slipping your shoes off, you follow him into his living room, beelining for the pictures that were hanging on one of the walls. “Holy shit, is this you?” 

“Don’t look at that!” He whines, grabbing you by your shoulders and turning you around. He shuffles you back toward the couch despite your protests. “You’re here to help me study. You are not here to look at my pictures from high school.” 

“Your hair was so bad!” 

“Do you want some water?” 

You ignore him in favor of advancing toward his pictures again and he groans, grabbing you by your waist and dragging you back to the couch. You were definitely starting to feel the effects of the liquor, whether you realized it or not. “I’m going to tie you to the couch if you don’t stop.” 

That’d be hot. Please do. “Fine, fine! I’ll look at them next time.” 

Next time. That makes Chan’s stomach do a somersault. He can’t fight the smile that blooms on his face, sitting cross-legged on the floor and opening his backpack. You mimic his sitting position, tucking your legs under one another. He holds out a stack of index cards, holding them out for you. You take them, shuffling through them while Chan continues to dig through his bag. Once you look at him again, he’s wearing glasses, and you have to refrain from moaning out loud at how good he looks. 

“Read me the cards. Does your vision go blurry when you’re drunk?” 

“I’m not drunk, Chan!” You huff, lifting the first index card closer to your face to read it. “Broca’s Area?” 

“Um... it’s where someone can, like, recognize something, but they can’t speak.” 

“Hemisphere?” 

“Left.” 

“Is this the kind of study session where I’m supposed to remove a piece of clothing for everything that you answer correctly?” Chan’s eyes widen at your proposition, and you just laugh, setting the first card down next to you and moving onto another one. “Just kidding. Wernicke’s Area?” 

“Th-That’s -- fuck, you distracted me – it's, like, the opposite of Broca’s Area. S-So, the language production component is still intact, but the words don’t really make sense.” 

“Hemisphere?” 

“Also left.” 

You hum quietly in approval, picking another index card from your stack. “Hemispheric lateralization?” 

“Okay, so, we have the left and the right hemispheres, right? Basically, the brain isn’t symmetrical. The left hemisphere doesn’t function the exact same way as the right hemisphere, and vice versa. The left hemisphere is responsible for certain things, like language production and stuff, but the right hemisphere is responsible for other things, like visual stuff.” You simply nod while Chan tries to fully answer the question, as if you have any idea what he’s talking about. Maybe with a clearer mind, you could contribute a little bit better. “There’s this whole debate about being left-brained or being right-brained, and also about how people are determined to be left-handed or right-handed.” 

You look at the backside of the index card for a few beats before giving up. “I don’t know if you answered the question or not.” 

“Because you’re drunk, or because I didn’t answer it correctly?” 

He takes the card from you. His fingers brush with yours, and you suddenly feel like you’re on fire. “I think I’m a little drunk, actually.” 

“That’s crazy!” He smiles, reading the card, his tone indicating that he does not find it to be crazy. “Do you want some water now?” 

No, I think I just want to kiss you. 

“W-What?” 

“What?” You realize too late that you’d said that out loud and gasp, covering your mouth. Chan is equally surprised, eyebrows raised as far as they could physically go, and for a few moments, the two of you stare at each other like that. 

Calmly, Chan clears his throat. There’s a hint of smile on his face that, unfortunately, you aren’t able to catch. “W-We can revisit that when you’re sober.” He wishes that he could be a little less polite in this situation – adrenaline is pumping through his veins at your sudden confession, and he wants nothing more than to pin you to the couch and give you exactly what you’d just asked for. But you’re drunk, and even though he knows that he’s not going to be able to retain any more information, all that he can do is continue studying while waiting for you to sober up. Hopefully, you’ll still want to kiss him when you aren’t being driven by your own intoxication. Chan, personally, has never needed alcohol to get the urge to kiss you, and he hopes that the same can be said for you by the end of the night. 

You, on the other hand, are mortified. The alcohol is only just starting to hit you, and you had started off strong by telling Chan that you wanted to kiss him. You’re afraid now that you’re going to end up saying something even more embarrassing – that you love him, that you’d always loved him, or that you want him to fuck you until you’re seeing stars. Any of those things would certainly result in your own demise, and the destruction of your friendship, and for that, you’re terrified. 

For better or for worse, you and Chan get through the rest of the index cards without any additional love confessions. 

“How are we feeling now?” He asks, setting down a glass of water on the table after he finally convinced you to take some. To answer his question, you’re dizzy. You don’t dare try to stand up, but you’re also starting to feel tired. Crashing on Chan’s couch was definitely not what you had planned to do tonight. 

“My head hurts.” You groan, massaging your temples. 

“Drink your water, then.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” You huff, grimacing at the thought of putting any additional liquids into your body tonight. Chan quirks an eyebrow at you, arms crossed over his chest. You shake your head. “I don’t want it.” 

“Yeah, but you need it.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re gonna have a monster hangover.” 

“I’ll be fine, Chan.” 

“I’ll kiss you if you drink it all.” 

Truthfully, Chan is not this bold. He’s been longing for you since he met you, but he knows that he doesn’t have a shot in hell. Your dad wants you to be with a particular type of person, the kind of person that he is not, even if Chan knows that he deserves you more than any of the guys you’d seen so far. He deserves you, and you deserve someone that can make you happy, to keep you laughing, and that will take care of you. He knows this, and he’s been waiting for you to figure it out, too. 

He knows why you told him that you wanted to kiss him. He can easily think back to the night before, when you had been complaining about the physical contact (and lack thereof) that you’d suffered since being forced on all of these dates. Chan is convenient for you, and he’s safe, and fuck, if he can’t have you completely, then he’s willing to settle. 

“Y-You’re blackmailing me.” You huff, snatching the glass of water and drinking from it, nevertheless. You choose to look away, to focus on drinking the water and not on Chan and the kiss he had just promised you. You’d make yourself choke if you thought too hard about that. 

“No, I’m bribing you.” 

You’re already feeling better by the time that you finish your water, and the expectant way that you look up at Chan drives his heart rate up. Still, he’s a man of his word. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, laughing quietly when you close your eyes, tilting your face toward him. He cups your face with both of his hands, holding you still while he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You scoff, eyes flying open, grabbing his wrists. 

“That is not the kind of kiss that I wanted, and you know that.” 

“You’re still drunk! I can’t kiss you.” 

“Fine, then stay still.” 

Chan’s heart is pounding so quickly that he’s afraid he’s going to blast off. You, on the other hand, are eerily calm. Time almost feels like it’s standing still as you lean in, slow that you can offer Chan an out if he wants to take it. He doesn’t, and that’s how you’re able to press your lips against his. It’s a chaste kiss, devoid of any tongue or teeth or movement, but Chan is practically trembling against your lips. He wants to pull you onto his lap. He wants to let his hands snake underneath your sweatshirt and roam across your skin. He wants to stop holding back, but he can’t. Not right now. 

You pull away after a few moments, still slow, offering him a chance to chase your lips. Your heart falls when he doesn’t, but you do your best to keep your expression even. You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at him. 

He clears his throat. “More water?” 

Only if you kiss me again. “Yes, please.” 

+ + +

You don’t remember much about that night with Chan. You remember the kiss, and you remember going through his neuroscience flashcards again, but that’s it; any additional details have been buried in your consciousness, and when you woke up in your own bed the next morning, you have no idea what course of events led you there. You can only assume that they involved Chan. 

And that’s why, contrary to how you usually felt in the days leading up to your weekly visit to the restaurant, you’re nervous tonight. Debilitatingly nervous. You don’t feel excited at the thought of visiting Chan. You don’t want to spend your whole date feeling his eyes on you. You’re afraid to face him, all because of what you can remember from last weekend. You kissed him, and he didn’t kiss back. You had forced yourself on him and you weren’t ready to face the consequences of that tonight. 

That’s why you don’t come to the restaurant early. You meet your date in the parking lot and walk in together, and you burn with shame as you walk through the restaurant to a different table than usual. You can feel Chan’s eyes on you, practically burning a hole through you. You don’t dare to twist in your seat and look in his direction. You don’t get up, even when you need to use the restroom. You keep your eyes glued to your date the whole time. Maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in your system, or the fact that you hadn’t had a meaningful conversation beforehand to tide you over, but this date was especially bad. You can’t even remember his name when everything is said and done, after two torturous hours have passed. 

Your date was awful, and you don’t know if you did the right thing by avoiding Chan, but at least it was over. Maybe you could start having your dates at a different restaurant. Maybe you would be able to peacefully disappear from Chan’s life, and convince yourself that it was never love in the first place, and-- 

“So, you’re hiding from me now?” 

The voice makes you freeze, fingers stilling in your bag since you’ve been searching for your keys. You don’t need to look up to confirm what you already know. Instead, you stay in place, a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach. “I-I’m not hiding.” 

“Then look at me.” 

That you can’t do. Chan scoffs, shaking his head even though you don’t see it. Internally, he’s pissed off. He, too, has been overthinking everything since Saturday night. He should’ve just kissed you, properly, like you’d asked. He should have just scratched the itch that had been plaguing him for months, taking advantage of your drunken state to confess how he really feels about you. He’d make mistakes, but he wasn’t expecting everything to backfire on him so badly. Were you upset with him for not going further with you? Had he done something wrong? Maybe, but does that excuse your actions tonight? Absolutely not. 

“What did I do?” 

“Nothing!” You scoff this time, squeezing your eyes shut. That same feeling of shame, that burning feeling, was beginning to overtake you. “Y-You didn’t do anything. I did something wrong.” 

“What, by kissing me?” 

“Yes!” 

That hurts Chan, but for reasons different than you realize. His expression falls, and the prolonged silence is why you finally dare to look at him. The expression on his face squeezes your heart, and you scramble to try and rectify things as best as you. “I-I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was drunk, and I-I forced myself on you, and I’m sorry.” 

“You...” He trails off, clenching his jaw. That’s what you think? “I-I don’t--” He doesn’t know how to respond, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that the two of you are on different pages. “I wanted to kiss you, too.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Your words come out louder and clearer than you had expected. Chan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to calm his own irritation, but unable to look past the fact that you’d ignored him all night because of a misunderstanding. 

“You were drunk.” 

“It was just a kiss!” Your own anger is starting to flare up. You’d been led to feel like you had seriously crossed a boundary, but as it turns out, Chan was just chivalrous to a fault. How annoying. 

“You were drunk, and I was not, and that wouldn’t have been okay!” 

“It was just a kiss, Chan!” 

“Fine, since you’re telling me that it shouldn’t have mattered--” Chan is quick to bridge the distance between the two of you, cupping your face with one of his hands and gripping your hip with the other. He pulls you flush against him and then leans in, pressing his lips against yours. For a few moments, you don’t know what to do; it’s not a matter of whether you should kiss him back, but you don’t know if you and him need to talk through anything else. Ultimately, you decide that talking can wait and you wrap your fingers around his forearms. 

You pull away just enough to dive back in, lips slotting between Chan’s. Your hold on him couldn’t get any tighter as he holds your head in place, capturing your lips again and again and again. Once bitten and twice shy, you wait for him to slip his tongue into your mouth to go deeper with things. The feeling of your mouth against Chan’s, your tongue sliding against him, quickly becomes intoxicating, but your desire to taste him trumps your desire for air. It isn’t until your lungs are burning that you finally break away, just enough to breathe. Your lips, swollen and chapped, remain pressed against his even as you pant quietly, eyes squeezed shut. His grip on your hip was tight enough to bruise, but when he finally realizes and relaxes his hold, he rubs his thumb against you to soothe the dull ache. 

Chan doesn’t know when he’s supposed to release you, and truthfully, he doesn’t want to. He’s aware of how un-romantic it is, standing in the middle of a parking garage, clinging onto each other like this, but Chan will take whatever he can get from you. He isn’t involved in the revolving door of those stuffy businessmen that your father has been forcing you to date. He’s just... Chan, the bartender that’s in love with you. And he knows that fact won’t be able to sustain the relationship that he wants to have with you. 

Where do you go from here? Neither of you have any idea. 

“Chan...” You sigh. You’ve finally gotten exactly what you wanted from him, and unfortunately, you’re still craving more. The scent of his cologne is making you dizzy, and the feeling of being pressed against him is intoxicating. You’re afraid you’ll never be able to pull away from him. 

“Don’t say my name like that. It’s dangerous.” 

“Dangerous for who?” 

“For you.” 

You’re glad that Chan is holding you and supporting you, because otherwise, you might’ve keeled over at his response. You can’t count the number of times that you’d thought about Chan while touching yourself, fingers playing with your clit while imagining that it was him instead. There’s a carnal desire that has been driving a large part of your interactions with Chan, and yet, in this moment, you don’t have those same urges. Right now, you want tender touches and soft kisses. You want him to keep you grounded, to hold you and to never release you. 

You want what you can’t have. 

“Should we keep standing here like this, or should we go back to my place?” 

You sigh deeply, and from that response, Chan knows what’s coming next. He’s gotten a taste of you, just enough to get addicted, and now... 

“I still have a date scheduled for next week.” You say, reaching up to thread your fingers through the hair near the nape of his neck. “And the week after that, too, I think.” Your heart practically splits and shatters at the look at Chan gives you, but you spill out the rest of your thoughts as quickly as you can. “I-I’m going to talk to my dad. Tomorrow. Just... wait for me, okay?” 

Chan has always waited for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem. 

+ + +

It’s definitely causing problems for Chan, still having to watch you on your stupid little dates. 

He shouldn’t be jealous, he knows that. You’ve already made it painfully obvious that you want him, and he’s still had a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that he can finally call you ‘his’ -- almost. 

You’d asked for time so that you could talk to your date, to tell him that you’d found someone and that you were done with the dates. Your dad hadn’t taken the news well, insisting that you needed to marry within your family’s tax bracket, that your marriage needed to help the family politically and fiscally. Chan didn’t know the rest of the details because you’d been too distraught to recount them, but he knew that you were still bound to go on your dates. He’s been understanding, but that doesn’t stop the ugly jealousy that rises in his throat whenever one of your dates leans in too close, gets too touchy. 

Tonight, as he’s done every other night, he’ll just look away. He’ll take a deep breath. He’ll tend to his patrons and avert his eyes, even though he’s dying to get another look at you. Then, after his shift, he’ll go back with you to your apartment and remind you that you love him, that you’ve always loved him, and that he’s always felt the exact same way about you. 

“How was your date?” Chan asks. It’s much later in the evening now. The two of you had gone back to your apartment. He’d tidied up your living room and kitchen while you changed out of your date outfit and taken off your makeup. Eventually, once both of you were ready, you’d both slumped on the couch. Chan was on you in an instant, touching you after another torturous evening of only being able to look at you. One of his hands is splayed against your head, his fingers pressing against the upward curve of your jaw while his palm cups the underside of it. He’s pressing wet, feverish kisses against the other side of your neck when he pauses to ask about your date. He doesn’t really care, though. 

“Terrible.” You sigh, leaning in against his hand to grant him better access to your neck. He responses positively to this, dragging his tongue against your skin. You groan lowly as a result, clutching his t-shirt a little tighter. “I thought about you the whole time.” 

“The whole time?” His tone is patronizing, but the words go straight to your cunt. “What were you thinking about?” 

You bite your lip, suppressing a sigh that bubbles up as Chan sucks a patch of skin between his lips. “Y-You. This.” 

“Yeah?” The feeling of his teeth forces a hiss through your lips, followed by his laughter. You would consider withholding the details of your thoughts from earlier if the desire to reenact them wasn’t so overpowering. 

“Don’t tease.” You huff, threading your fingers through the hair near the back of his neck so that you can hold him a little closer to you. “I-I was thinking about being rescued from my date. You, meeting me in the bathroom and fucking me against the mirror.” 

Chan has to still his movements so that he can fully process your words. The same thoughts now race through his mind, and he groans against your throat. He would be toast if he ever tried anything at the restaurant, but he could still indulge the thought – especially if those same thoughts were keeping you sane through your dates. He drags his hands down to your hips, squeezing and pulling you closer to him on the couch. 

You’re folded underneath him in a matter of sixty seconds. 

“F-Fuck, Chan--” He’s moving so fast that you don’t even realize he’d shimmied his way to between your thighs until he pauses, hands planted atop your thighs. Your heart is racing, and your lungs feel constricted, and as badly as you want this, there’s something terrifying about each and every new step that you take into this uncharted territory with him. You’ve been dreaming about having Chan inside of you, in every way possible, since you met him; your dreams never considered anything beyond that, though. “W-We-- hold on--” 

“This doesn’t have to be c-committal.” Chan rasps, eyes flickering between yours and your core, likely indicated by a wet patch on your shorts. “I-I just really want to taste you, this doesn’t h-have to be anything-- y-you said--” 

You want it so bad that you’re afraid to give yourself any additional time to overthink and ruin things. “P-Please, Chan, I want you.” He tugs your shorts down only enough for access to your cunt, flattening his tongue against the wet spot on your underwear. He rubs his hands up and down your thighs as he goes in for another taste, hot and wet and separated by such a thin layer. Your cries for more are weak but unnecessary; he hooks a finger around your underwear, pulling them aside for full access. His mouth is watering at the sight of you, and the moment that he gets his first real taste of you is one that he’ll cherish for eternity. 

Chan eats your pussy like a man starved. You know that you don’t imagine the ripping sound that you hear before your underwear ends up on the floor, but then Chan immediately crams his tongue inside of you and fucks you with it, and you accept his form of apology. He pulls away only to press himself flush against you, slurping and sucking against your slit and collecting all of the arousal that’s been pooling out of you. You swear that your grip on his hair can’t get any tighter until he kneads your clit with his tongue, and then you’re pulling even harder. 

“Chan, y-yes, fuck, p-please--” 

“K-Keep saying that--” He groans into your pussy, and you involuntarily roll your hips in response to the vibration of his words against your folds. “--my n-name.” 

You sigh his name again, untangling one of your hands from his arm to drape it across your face, eyes falling shut as you focus on the feelings of Chan’s tongue laving over your clit again and again. It feels even better than you had imagined it would, soft and slow and warm. Each involuntary clench of your thighs against his head is met with firm hands prying you back open, and the few times that you’ve dared to look down at Chan, you’ve been brought closer and closer to your orgasm. There are two reasons for the feverishness that’s overtaken your body: because you’re with Chan, and because you’ve never wanted anyone the way that you’ve wanted him. 

Your orgasm rips you out of your bliss. It’s like you’ve been struck by the lightning, the way that your body writhes and shudders while Chan sits back, his lazy grin covered in your slick, admiring his work as you fall apart. He tells himself that, if this ever happens again, he should record you; the sound of you moaning his name is what he hopes will play on an endless loop for him in his afterlife. 

His touches are soft as you come down from your high, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face. You grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him down to meet your lips, groaning softly when you taste yourself on his tongue. At the risk of doing too much too quickly, though, Chan pulls away from the kiss once he senses it’s about to escalate again. 

“W-We— s-sorry, I--” 

You’re, admittedly, disappointed, but you pull him back down into your arms, nuzzling your face into his neck this time. He relaxes in your hold, and the two of you lapse into a silence punctuated by the ticking of a nearby clock and each other’s heartbeats. Even in the comfortable silence, you still feel compelled to say your piece, though. 

“I really like you, Chan.” 

He only hums in response. He hopes that you can’t feel his heartrate increase as he lays against you. You wouldn’t break up with him right after he fucked you with his tongue, right? Of course, he knows that you wouldn’t, and yet... 

“We’re gonna be together soon, okay? I promise. I-I'll find a way to stop the stupid dates, and then we can be together. That’s all I wanted to say.” 

God, he hopes that you can find a way to keep your word. 

+ + +

Truthfully, Chan can’t figure out if he’s lost his mind or not. He still thinks that he might be stuck in his own fantasies, dreaming up a life with you that doesn’t really exist. 

Even as he helps you carry boxes from your apartment out to the moving van that you rented out, he’s not sure that this is reality. He pinches his fingers as he sets down one of the boxes in the truck, and still, he thinks that he’s imagined the pain. You plant a kiss on his cheek as you breeze past him and back into the building, and yet, he still can’t fathom that things had ended up as they have. 

You’d actually been able to keep your promise. He still can’t believe that. 

After months and months of dating in secret, you had managed to convince your dad that the family could survive without the nepotism marriage that he desperately desired. It had taken a few sabotaged dates where you’d spewed on and on about your sex with Chan, and countless conversations where you begged and pleaded with him to see things the way that you did, and somehow, Chan ended up victorious. You were someone that he only deserved in his dreams, and somehow, he had found a way to dream while he was awake. 

He has to take moments to ground himself, to let himself remember that you are real, that you do love him back. That’s how you find him on your trip back to the van, zoned out and staring at the ground. He doesn’t snap out of it even as you slam the doors of the van shut. Only when you hug him from behind, cheek pressed against the center of his back, hands sliding along his chest does he finally descend from the clouds. You inhale deeply against him, smiling involuntarily at the scent of him that you were expecting to fully engrain to memory soon enough. 

“Hey. Sorry.” 

“Daydreaming again?” 

Chan laughs, turning in your arms so that he can hold you, too. “Trying to convince myself that this is real.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be real, Chan?” 

“Because since I met you, I knew that I loved you. But that didn’t matter until recently.” When you open your mouth to reply, to scold him because he could’ve said something sooner, he shakes his head. “I always hoped that you’d be mine. I just didn’t think it was realistic.” 

“It was never us against the world. Just... us against my dad.” 

“Yeah, well, regardless of that,” Chan kisses you softly, pulling away only far enough to put distance between your lips as he speaks again. “I feel like I beat the world, and your dad, and won the most precious gift in the process.” 

“You won?” 

“I did. I won you.” 

“Do I need to remind you that I’m not a prize?” 

“You’re my prize.” 

#dino x reader #lee chan x reader #svt x reader #dino scenarios #lee chan scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #hengqarae

[cdmodule]

I'm already seeing people come to the conclusion that Loser was a shitty person to Winner all along but personally, and this is definitely biased because this is 1:1 what I theorized their backstory to be, I feel like this is the most neutral outcome without it being totally boring and nothingburger.

At the end of the day Loser didn't push Winner away out of jealousy or selfishness. He had his own goal and didn't consider his closest friend's feelings the closer he got to that goal. Which no doubt, is a sucky thing to do, but we only know one side of the story. Could easily be that Winner never spoke up until It was too late. I just don't think It's that black and white really

If there's anything we learned from the Winner and Clock arc, the intentions might be completely different than expected

#tpot 10 #tpot 10 spoilers #tpot spoilers #i might have to draw a comic highlighting Loser's POV cuz that was my plan for one of the future goikytown chapters #but now its like. Canon. So I dont have to hold back anymore

[mokkkki]

Sleeping With The Enemy, Winners and Losers: Act I Retrospective

How can one destroy a legend?  

Hi everybody, and welcome to the final winners and losers of Act 1. Unsure if I'll keep doing these for Act 2, but if you guys want them to, let me know! Anyways, Act 1 was extremely hectic, and I wanted to declare the final winners and losers of this shitshow. As the last chapter suggests, the dice has been officially cast (that sounded SO douchey mb). Anyways, spoilers below the cut.

Winners: Rosier + Vanity

So, these two money-hungry Slytherins are considered winners because their position is never threatened, and they both get massive raises. Additionally, Rosier gets some in Eurus, and Vanity proves her worth to Regulus.

Winner, mostly because she's not that relevant: Marlene McKinnon

Even though Sirius' favorite person is definitely a negative at times (as she will experience in Act II), she has access to millions of dollars, has two beautiful kids, and seems to have a burgeoning social life outside of her husband. Go Marlene!

Loser: Emmeline Vance

Do I really have to explain?

Loser: Orion Black

He's technically a winner, as his position of CEO was never challenged, but considering that Regulus, the most viable heir, is out for blood, and that Sirius, his alternate heir, has relapsed, it's not looking good.

Winner: James Potter

He's curated a bond with Regulus, began a successful media company with his close friend, and realized important things for himself. All-in-all a good act for James, but IMO, he really, really needs to stop White Knight Syndrome-ing Regulus.

Loser: Remus Lupin

While technically a winner because of MMG's success, the fact that the person he did it all for, Sirius, has broken up with him, it's all for nothing. HOWEVER, considering the on-again, off-again nature of their relationship...

Winner: Lucius Malfoy

He bagged a total 10 and is chairman to MMG. Sure, he's married into one of the most terrifying families on earth, but knowing him, he can beautiful-hair and awkward-bumble his way out of literally anything. He MIGHT be my favorite.

Winner: Narcissa Black

Congrats to the newly-engaged Narcissa for winning what was a CUTTHROAT act. While most of these "winners" are winners in the fact that they've survived, Narcissa is a winner in the fact that she's actively thriving. Also, HELLO, I am so excited for power couple Ice Queen and Himbo! Especially since we know from canon that their son is cold asf.

Loser: Sirius Black

Yeahhhh, not everybody survived and thrived, Sirius being a prime example. All the close relationships he seems to have had in the pilot were all corrupted along the way. And I feel really bad. But they can't all be winners.

Winner, thinks he's a loser: Regulus Black

Not to reiterate previous points here, but as long as Regulus is being deprogrammed from his shitty childhood, he's winning. Ofc, he's been through horrible trauma with the unremembered Slut in the Hut and what happened with Emmeline, but I think that despite this he's on a path of growth, and will continue to grow in Act II as well <3

read act i here!

#swte #winners and losers act 1 #regulus black #sirius black #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #lucius malfoy #remus lupin #james potter #evan rosier #emma vanity #marlene mckinnon #emmeline vance #sunseeker #sunchaser #jegulus #wolfstar #starseeker #starchaser

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Amusement Wolf/Koga Oogami 3*

Summary: Koga is in a bad mood so Makoto suggests going to the arcade. At first it doesn't seem to help and Koga only gets angrier...

Season: Summer

Location: Corridor

Koga: (Gahh, for fuck’s sake. I’m pissed!)

(Both Sakuma-senpai and Hakaze-senpai are goin’ on a variety show!)

(We’re UNDEAD! We’re suppose t’be a more radical, immoral unit!)

(Feels like the claws we’ve been sharpin’ have been gettin’ dull as of late.)

(...Them shitty seniors. Damn, I don’t get it but there’s gotta be a reason why.)

(Takin’ such a job, it’s totally out of left-field ‘n they’re just doin’ whatever they want. I’m not patient enough nor adult enough t’stay silent ‘bout this…!)

(Dammit. I’m so annoyed I can't even play the guitar.)

(Adonis is doin’ some stuff with the Track and Field club.)

(Nothin’ I can do ‘bout that so I thought I’d play some guitar on my own, but I’m so outta tune…)

Tch, should I just call it quits ‘n go home?

Makoto: He~yy, Oogami-kun. Are you heading home? There’s no Light Music Club activities today~.

Koga: Haa!?

Makoto: Scary…!? Sorry, it seems like I’ve spoken to you at the wrong time.

Koga: Great, it’s Four Eyes. Whadd’ya want.

Makoto: I just saw you so I decided to come talk to you.

Koga: If you have nothin’ to say then don’t come talk t’me!

Oi, Four Eyes. Can’t you tell I’m pissed off?

Makoto: Yeah...I know from experience.

Koga: Then, quickly! Tell me a way that I can blow off some steam.

Makoto: Eeh, this is sudden!?

Koga: Just answer the question!

Makoto: Um, uhhh….You could eat lots of delicious food, take a nap, and forget about the bad things?

Koga: I need to do somethin’ and do it now! Take this more seriously!

Makoto: But I ammm taking this seriously. Then, why don’t you run around the school grounds? I heard that it’s supposed to help clear your mind…

Koga: But I’ll get in the way of other club activities!

Makoto: You care about those things, huh…

Then um… Oh! How about the arcade? You like card games, right?

Koga: …The arcade?

Hm, that ain’t half bad, Four Eyes ♪

Makoto: I’m glad. Seems you’re interested.

Koga: Uhuh. Then let’s go right now.

Makoto: Huh? Go where…?

Koga: Dude, didn’t we just agree we’re going to the arcade?

Makoto: Oh, you want me to come too…?

Koga: You’re the one who suggested it! Take responsibility and come socialise! What, unless you got other things to be doing!?

Makoto: No, I was just going to go home! But I don’t have my bag on me…

Koga: Then go ‘n fuckin’ get it! Quick, chop chop!

Makoto: HeeEEE~!? Why’s this happening to me!

Location: Arcade

Makoto: Yippee~! I won ♪

Koga: …GaaHH! Dammit! How’d you react that fast!

Makoto: Fufu. I had a feeling you’d hit the puck here.

Koga: No way you could read me like that~...

This is supposed to be for stress relief, so why are you winnin’!?

Stress reduction my ass! This is makin’ it worse!

Makoto: Huh~!? Sorry, I’ll go easy on you next round…

Koga: Hah!? I don’t wanna stoop so low that you’ve gotta go easy on me!

Makoto: What should I do then~!?

Koga: Shitty game. Annoyin’ that the score difference was so small…

Makoto: Right? If I had lost my focus I probably wouldn’t have won. I had no idea you were so good at air hockey, Oogami-kun.

Koga: …Even if you win, it’s pointless.

Makoto: Gahh. Don’t look at me like that…

Don’t get too down about it and let’s play a different game. There’s lots to do here.

Koga: True. What game do you recommend?

Makoto: Hmm, a two-player game…

If we play a fighting game, they’ll be a winner and a loser which might put Oogami-kun in a worse mood, so we should probably play a co-op game…

Koga: Huh? What did you just say?

Makoto: Nothing, I said nothing!

R-right! Let’s play a zombie killing game!

Koga: Really? Are you tryna fuck me over?

Makoto: Teehee, that’s up to you. I’ll support you either way ♪

I’ll put the money in and… let’s play!

Koga: Got your gun? I’m gonna focus the small fries ‘n then we can rush the boss!

Makoto: Okay. Oh, be careful not to injure any civilians.

Koga: Ha! Who do you think you’re speakin’ to!

Makoto: Ahaha, true. It’s reassuring to have you with me! Then I’ll just…!

Koga: (Four Eyes keeps hittin’ headshots. But I can’t lose either!)

Makoto: Oogami-kun! Coming from above!

Koga: I got you~!

(The zombies are fallin’ down like dominos ♪ You’re all a hundred years too early to face me.)

(...Come t’think of it - when’s the last time I hung out with someone like this at an arcade…?)

(Maybe ‘cos I got so into the game, I’m not as angry.)

(I still don’t know why Sakuma-senpai ‘n Hakaze-senpai are appearin’ in that show but if I get worked up ‘bout it I’ll cause trouble for Adonis.)

(I can’t help gettin’ angry but, like today, it’s important I find a way t’let it all out.)

(I gotta thank Four Eyes…♪)

Makoto: …Dangit. Oogami-kun, reload, reload!

Koga: Haa?

…AhhhH! Where the fuck’s all my stamina gone!?

Makoto: My bad! They surrounded us and there was nothing I could do…

Uwaa!?

I’m dead. Guess it’s game over.

Koga: Oi, the fuck is you givin’ up for!? We can continue from where we left off!

Let’s go again, Four Eyes! We won’t lose next time~!

Makoto: Ahaha. You’re really into this ♪

Koga: Hell yeah I am. We ain’t goin’ home today until we clear this game, alright!? Get ready ♪

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #koga oogami #makoto yuuki #mephi's translations

[candyhoiic]

I was listening to Hell is Forever for like the millionth time when I just suddenly was picturing it like getting a reprise for sinner! Adam! Like can you imagine his own words/song being thrown right into his face?! It would literally be so fucking tasty. For me, I feel like it would take a more somber note with him reflecting on his own words, and just realizing how screwed he is because according to his own words there's no redemption for him. He's just stuck in hell forever.

Drabble

He had been in hell for months, spending his time at Lucifer daughter's shithole of a hotel and heaven still hadn't come back for him. But they would, I mean of course they would. They just had to come back for him! It wasn't like he was just some random loser winner, he was the Adam, the first man. There was no way Sera would just abandon him after all he did for heaven. He had too much fucking potential to just rot down here.

He was-

Fuck he was so screwed!

Up on the roof he couldn't help but scream into his clawed hands. He was so sure they'd come back for him already, but they hadn't. There was no word from them at all, and it didn't help that he couldn't feel any traces left of his connection to heaven. What used to be like a warm protective blanket of holy aurora was now but a distant memory against the hell’s oppressive atmosphere that seemed to cling to his lungs making breathing constantly difficult. No matter how much air he breathed he always felt like he was minutes away from suffocating. It was like heaven had completely abandoned him.

He didn’t even notice when he started trembling, but it annoyed him to no end to realize he was shaking like some lame ass bitch. Gritting his teeth, his claws dug into his hands in an attempt to stop his tremors and yet his hands continued to tremble while his eyes started to sting.

No! There was absolutely no way he was gonna start crying like a pussy. Even if heaven wouldn’t come back for him, he would still make it back to his rightful place. This wasn’t the end. He just had to continue to play nice while he finds a way out of this shitty ass situation and he would. Oh he would.

A month later led him back to the same rooftop as his eyes trail over towards the little spot of heaven that could be seen from hell. His expression shriveled up into something bitter. A month later and he was still in the same position with no fucking clue on how to get back. Hell he was starting to doubt there was even a way to get back. 

To think that this is where moving up the exterminations got him. He was stuck in the very place he had condemned while being an unofficial resident of the very hotel that he had mocked and tried to tear down on multiple occasions. His whole life was a shitshow. A joke with him as the fucking punch line. Gripping at his hair harshly he could feel himself slipping, which only caused him to tug harder, ripping some of his hair out in chunks. The pain was a welcome sensation over the surmounting dread filling up his body.

Unwanted memories of his first meeting with Charlie come to mind at that very moment, leaving him emptily laughing as his own words seem to repeat in his head. They continue to loop even as his laughter tampers off, and he tightly closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way his cheeks start to feel wet as a few tears slip past his clenched eyes. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Everything just felt like it was too much. 

Helplessness grips at his heart as his throat burns and before he knows it he’s choking out a mockery of his previous words.  "'This fuckin' Hell is forever, whether I like it or not... had my chance to behave better now I don't have a shot...” Each word that slips out feels like further condemnation, but once he starts something inside of himself urges himself to continue. “And it's meant to suck a lot, so should I just give up this dumb endeavor? 'Cause the rules are black and white I never had a chance to fight it.” By now his whole body was trembling as he hunched in on himself, clawing at every ounce of skin he could reach. 

“I’ll be burnin’ for the rest of my life…”

-End- Hoped you enjoyed my silly little thoughts tehehe

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel brainrot #hell is forever #hazbin hotel blog #hazbin hotel angst #ansgt #drabble #hazbin hotel drabble #hazbin hotel headcanon #sinner adam #hurt no comfort

[mysterycharacterbracket]

Round L7, Poll #2

Remember, this is the losers bracket. The winner of this poll will advance to the 8th round, and the loser will be revealed and eliminated.

Character 204: This guy was obsessed with a shitty sci-fi story for so long and then suddenly, that information became very useful for him and he ended up having massive power and control to create the story that he had always wanted and in doing so ends up forming a group of people around him who all love him and would die for him except despite all of this his self-esteem is not good and he would rather die for them (and it doesn't occur to him that they might care about him too)

Character 145: A genius in every field possible - one would think their life would be handed on a silver platter, but you'd be wrong. Having a parent that just ruins every aspect of your hard work with useless talk about strength is a reason enough. But that doesn't stop them from trying to finally learn of a proper way to "lead" in every field, especially in their class. Not only cool design-wise, but also how the series manages to flesh out this minor villain in only a couple of scenes they are in is baffling.

#mystery character bracket #polls #round L7 #batch L7.1