#I think this is a pretty humble list

[doctorsillyguy]

Goals for 2025

Nipple piercings

Cool hair

Build my physical media collection

Become a lesbian housewife

[moderatetoaboveaverage]

"Boil water to turn fan" as if multistage steam turbine generators are not one of the sexiest kinds of machines every made

nuclear power is impressive until you get up to why. "we use the most precisely engineered machinery ever created to split atoms to release energy" oh yeah how come? "boil water to turn a fan" get the fuck out

[apricot-blossomss]

Is it okay if I ask what type of s/o would the Gods be into? I find that really interesting and would like to hear your opinion since I really love your writing <3<3

This request came just right, bc I really want to write but I'm mad busy rn, and this was a lot of fun! so I kinda wrote for ... everyone.

If you're conventionally attractive, you are in Zeus' dating pool. You're exceptionally beautiful? I'm so sorry. Once he has set his eyes on you, you are not safe anywhere. There is no other factor that matters, except maybe if you're exceptionally hospitable and kind to guests, which might attract his attention. Which is not a good thing.

Poseidon would love someone unpredictable, someone who never gets boring and never fails to surprise him or catch him off guard. He'd love the excitement of it all and is generally pulled to exciting and outgoing people, but also people who are more introverted but break out of their shell at unexpected times.

If Hades had a type, it would for sure be someone a little more ... alive than him. He's clearly going for that opposites attract thing, just look at Persephone. Also, I reckon he'd like someone who can stand up for themselves, as standing up to his brothers was always very hard for him and he would admire you greatly for it.

Demeter would like someone who is humble, orderly and respectful and appreciative of the beauties of nature. Someone who finds joy in the little things and never fails to call their grandma for her birthday.

To be honest- you don't have a romantic chance with neither Hera nor Athena, Artemis or Hestia. Though I thought it would be fun to make some platonic headcanons for what kind of mortal they would take interest in in a platonic way.

Hera admires loyalty, it doesn't even have to be to a spouse, it can also be your family or friends. Also, she appreciates people who remain strong even in the face of long term hardships or anguish, and it might earn you her favor. It's not that she pities you, but that she admires your strength to keep fighting. Also, she'd love to talk shit about men with you as much as the next goddess...

Artemis isn't about the whole opposites attract thing. As with Orion, she is likely to make friends with someone who shares her interests, as she also surrounds herself with her huntresses. She loves to talk about hunting and the wild and would like someone who isn't afraid to get themselves dirty. If you're a guy, it's pretty hard to get in her good grades though.

Athena is all in for academic weapons. Critical thinkers, challenging the status quo and earning great archivements. Someone she could have an intellectual conversation with, who offers new points of argument and is able to hold their own in an argument, she is the goddess of warfare after all...

I don't think there is anyone Hestia doesn't like, though she would favor people who spend a lot of time with their family and are kind and hospitable to others. Kindness to strangers is something she very much appreciates.

Apollo doesn't really have a type. His mortal lovers are symbolic for his creative inspirations, so he would not settle for a type but be all over the board. The variety of his lovers concludes that Apollo isn't looking for a specific kind of person. He simply watches or spends time with someone and BAM he's completely and utterly in love. He does love himself an artsy spouse though.

Ares needs someone calm and peaceful- it might seem a little contradictory, but Ares needs someone to ground him, to listen to him and provide the calm for his storm. Actually, he's all for domesticity, though a hot love affair doesn't turn him away either. If his spouse had a strong personality and could stand up for themselves, he would really respect that, but he would also be your guard dog if that wasn't the case. Ares just needs someone to love him unconditionally, quite like the next god on the list.

Not to be disrespectful but Hephaestus does not care who you are, he's just happy with someone who treats him with dignity. Be kind to him and he is putty in your hands. After all his family put him through, he'd also appreciate someone to rant about them to, who can also sit in silent understanding with him at other times. But honestly, he isn't setting the bar very high.

Not to call her vain, but you would have to be insanely beautiful to be on Aphrodites radar. She simply considers herself too good to spend her time on anyone who isn't pleasing to her eye- and that really cuts down the pool of potential lovers. Also, she would only stay around for someone who is ready to give their full attention to her at all times, she is a very demanding lover.

I think Hermes would want someone who is able to keep up with him, but also root him when he overdoes it a little. It would take quite a lot for him to actually stick around, because for him to make time in his busy schedule, he'd have to be head over heels in love.

Dionysus would probably not have a specific type either, simply because he wouldn't want to cut short his dating pool. Though he would like someone who is able to let loose at least sometimes and surrender to his pull of madness and ecstasy.

Extra: Eros would mostly go for someone attractive, but he wouldn't let that be the only factor. Just as the unpredictable and surprising nature of his arrows, Eros could fall for anybody, picking out a trait he loves about them and obsessing over it for the day (I'm thinking 'Someone New' by Hozier if you know what I mean).

[secretl1fe0fm3]

im humbly asking for a fic with 4 & 45 anyways i adore your fics ty bb

caught on camera - billie eilish x fem!reader

prompt #4: “why don’t we film it?”

prompt #45: “what would they think if they could see you now, hm?”

warnings: smut, dom!billie, strap(r!receiving), slight degradation, dirty talk, filming kink

an: another prompt list request :3 still have over 15+ to do and i am getting to everyones i promise!! also, working on a vampire!billie fic right now and debating on doing multiple parts :P hehe we shall see, but anyways, this is filthy, enjoy!! (thank you for your request chalaghosts, i love youuuuuu<3)

18+ minors dni!!!

The hotel suite was quiet, the kind of quiet that made everything feel heavier, thick with anticipation. Billie stood a few feet away, shirtless in a black push up bra and her purple strap already snug on her hips, watching you intently.

You were kneeling on the bed, bare under her oversized tee, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. You’d been squirming under her gaze since she buckled the harness, and she knew it.

Her phone was in her hand. She tilted it slightly, thumb hovering over the screen, breaking the silence with a question that made you still.

“Why don’t we film it?”

You blinked at her, heat rushing straight to your core. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, stepping closer. “Want you to see how you look when you’re all fucked out.”

Her words hit you hard as your thighs instinctively pressed together. You sucked in a deep breath, closing your eyes, hesitating before nodding your head in agreement.

“I—yeah, okay…”

She smirked. “Thought so.”

Billie set the phone up on the nightstand, angling it toward the mirror at the foot of the bed. The camera would catch everything at that angle, your body, your face, the way she was about to absolutely ruin you.

“Hands and knees,” she said, voice sharp and commanding.

You moved without hesitation this time, the mattress shifting beneath you. In the reflection of the mirror, you looked flushed, mouth parted, your breath already shaky. Billie climbed onto the bed behind you and spread your knees apart with her thigh.

“Look at you,” she murmured, brushing the strap against your folds, teasing you. “Dripping before I’ve even touched you properly.”

She leaned in close, lips ghosting your ear as she smacked your ass, watching the skin turn a light shade of red. “You want them to see you like this, don’t you?”

“I don’t—” you gasped out quickly, cheeks burning from embarrassment, but the wetness between your legs only seemed to grow.

She gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to the mirror. “Don’t lie. You love it.”

And then she slowly pushed in, letting every inch fill you while you clutched at the sheets, knuckles turning white.

“Goddamn,” Billie groaned, her grip tightening on your hips. “You take it so well. Every fucking time.”

She pulled the strap out before pushing in again quickly, the rhythm building with each thrust. Her abs flexed, hair falling over her face as her eyebrows furrowed, focusing on fucking you with fever. You could barely hold yourself up as you pushed back, meeting her hips with every thrust.

“See that?” she asked, nodding toward the mirror, her hand fisted in your hair. “That’s you. Taking my cock like you were made for it.”

A moan spilled out before you could stop it. Billie growled in satisfaction at the sound, her hips speeding up.

“Louder. Don’t be shy now. Let them hear how good you sound when I fuck you pretty girl.”

Your body moved with hers, every thrust seemed to hit deeper and deeper. Sweat clung to your spine as your back arched painfully, desperate whimpers falling from your lips before Billie’s voice cut through the obscene sounds.

“What would they think if they could see you now, hm?”

A sharp thrust punctuated the question. “If they saw you like this, fucked out and moaning into the mattress for me.”

You whined, your body burning as white hot pleasure started to coil in your lower stomach. Billie’s fingers slipped between your legs, rubbing your clit in firm, deliberate circles.

“That’s it,” she murmured. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

Your eyes met hers in the mirror. The way she looked at you alone was enough to push you over the edge.

You came hard, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, moans catching in your throat, body trembling as Billie kept fucking you through it, the camera still rolling.

She didn’t pull out until your legs started to shake, a sign of your overstimulation. Billie eased herself out of you, reaching for the phone on the nightstand, turning it off and tossing it onto the mattress beside you.

She leaned down, kissing your spine. “We’re watching that together later.”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a wrecked whimper as Billie pulled you into her arms, rubbing soothing circles over your hips.

“You’re gonna love how pretty you look when you fall apart for me.”

prompt list

my masterlist

[kdh-tally]

Abby x Reader Headcannons

Prompt : Headcannons of Abby and his Partner

Author's Note : This was requested (i was gonna write it anyways) and the request was so adorable but I unfortunately deleted it cause the first post wasn't loading 😭 But to the anon that asked, please keep your soul!! I'm not like Gwi-ma ;P

Jinu || Romance || Abby [you're here] || Mystery || Baby

For context, you work at a pilates place. It's mixed building so they're both multiple female and male customers (i forgot what u call people who do pilates)

It’s bright and sunny with colours like yellow and pink being in the main design. Opposite of you is this minimalist and dark themed gym.

Both places are more or less enemies in business.

Not necessarily boys versus girls but instead gym junkies and muscle heads vs elegant bodybuilders and core strengtheners. 

It had been a long day and you were not supposed to be working but your co-instructor called in sick, and now you were the only available trainer on site. 

The building would be closing in a few hours and you seriously hoped no one else was coming in. Then the door opened.

In walked a guy who looked like he belonged in a boxing ring. He was crazily muscular, tall, slightly intimidating but 100% cocky.

You knew who this was, kinda.

He recently started going to the gym next door (traitor!!) so it was odd as to why he was here. Other than his pink hair, this definitely wasn’t his scene.

You were also pretty sure he was some new Kpop idol but apparently his group had gone on hiatus or something?

“Hey,” he greeted. “I’m here for the pilates thing?”

You glanced at the schedule. There was no appointment listed under his name. You looked back up at him in confusion, his cocky smirk was starting to piss you off.

He grinned. “It was a last-minute thing. Manager said she’d booked me in for some stretches or something. Said I need to ‘loosen up’.” He even added air quotes.

You tried not to roll your eyes. 

“Right. Lucky you. I’m the only one available.”

“Perfect,” he said without missing a beat before eyeing you up and down. “You look like you know what you're doing.” Cue the smirk, then the flex. 

Even though you swore to be loyal to pilates, you had to admit his muscles were… 😋

Five minutes later, he was on the reformer machine (in a position that should not have been physically possible) and asking if he was supposed to be feeling core activation.

“Is this normal?”

By the end of the session, he was drenched in sweat and fully humbled. You handed him water with a smirk of your own.

“Still think Pilates is just stretching?”

“…No comment.” after a moment of silence “…When’s your next opening?”

He proceeds to walk in every day after his gym sessions.

At first you’re confused cause he never seems tired?

You made him hold a side plank for 20 minutes and watched his soul leave his body.

“I can do squats with 200kg,” he gasped, “why is this band killing me?”

“Because you’re not using your core, muscle-head.”

He swore he wouldn't return again but came back the very next day.

All of a sudden he’s a regular.

Slowly starts coming to Pilate’s instead of the gym.

Many of the members, men and women alike, are super hyped.

It boosts their ego when the muscle-head can’t do half of the things they can.

He meets a decent amount of fans and they (very respectfully) ask why he’s taking Pilates classes all of a sudden.

He tells everyone he’s training to be more flexible for the dances Jinu makes them do, but honestly, he just wants to see you.

Brags that you’re his private instructor to literally everyone, even though you told him to stop doing that.

Whenever you correct his form, he smirks and says, “You just wanted an excuse to touch me, huh?”

You threaten to make him hold a wall sit for 10 minutes.

Will flirt with you. ALL THE TIME.

“You know, your hands are really strong. Its kinda hot.”

“Are you checking me out?”

“Breathe through the stretch, Abby.” you’d tell him

“It’s hard to breathe when you’re looking at me like that, cutie.”

You’ve smacked him with a foam roller at least three times. 

He soon convinces you to hang out outside of Pilates classes. 

Fortunately for you both there's a smoothie and snack bar next door.

After every session, he insists on walking you there.

You always order something healthy but he orders the fruitiest, sugariest thing and insists you try it.

You say no. He forces the straw in your mouth anyway.

When he confesses to you, he doesn’t make it big and dramatic.

I lied. It's kinda dramatic.

It was supposed to be a normal session.

You had no idea what was coming.

Abby had stayed behind again, lounging shirtless on a mat like he owned the studio, which he absolutely did not.

He’d more or less stop going to the gym at this point.

He’d just finished a perfect cobra stretch, smirking the whole time, and now he was watching you clean, spinning a towel around his hands like a bored pet.

“You always stare at me when I stretch,” he said suddenly. You didn’t look up, already used to the teasing remark. “I stare at all my clients. I’m making sure your spine isn’t breaking.”

“That’s cute. You care about my spine.”

You did look up that time, only to see him already walking over to the front desk where you stood.

“Abby,” you warned, “if you break another foam roller—”

“I’m not going to break anything today,” he cut in, laughing as you rolled your eyes. “I’m here to ask you out.”

You froze. “…What?”

“You heard me, cutie.” He leaned on the desk. “You’ve been driving me insane since day one. Yelling at me, correcting my form, making me sore for days.”

“That’s literally my job.”

“And you’re really good at it.” He leaned in, voice dropping just a little. “But I want more than our little pilates dates. Let me take you out.”

You blinked. “You’re joking.”

He tilted his head. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

You wanted to say yes. But his eyes weren’t playing around. Not this time.

“You really want to date your pilates instructor?”

“Hell yeah. You’re hot, you’re scary, and you’ve forced me into a split. I trust you with my life.” A beat. “Also,” he added, smug as ever, "I know you’ve been checking me out since the first class.”

You opened your mouth and closed it. “…Shut up.”

“Is that a yes?”

“…Maybe.”

“I’ll take it,” he said, reaching over the counter and stealing one of the protein bars you were fiddling with. “First date’s on me. Dress comfy.”

He left with a wink and a flex, the bell above the door jingling musically.

Now that he has boyfriend privileges, he’s constantly barging into your sessions to “check if your clients are better looking than him.”

They’re not. He makes sure of it.

You keep telling him it would be physically impossible for you to find someone more attractive than him anyways.

He does not like when other guys flirt with you.

He’ll sit on a mat, arms crossed, glaring while you lead a class. He’d be closer to the front of the class, which is odd cause he normally remains near the center to show off.

“I'm just observing.” he’d excuse, but you know he’s truly just trying to block any other on-lookers from seeing you.

He’s secretly very soft, though. 

Brings you water. 

Wraps his jacket around you if it’s cold.

Packs your bag the morning before classes (yes he stays over)

He pretends not to care, but sulks if you forget to text him after a long day.

The boys would be shocked that he managed to find someone willing to date him.

They only thought he had love for his muscles

“You’re dating a human pilates instructor?? Since when did you do pilates?” Baby would glare at him curiously.

Romance tries not to die laughing. “Wait, so she told you what to do and you liked it? Bro…”

Jinu was just happy he didn’t have to be forced to go to the gym with him anymore.

Abby would just take you instead.

Mystery was quite impressed. He didn’t care so much about Abby dating but was really interested in the mixed pilates center.

Would probably book a session to see what the hype’s about.

He would call you things like:

Ma’am - Whenever you boss him around.

Star-fish - Your super duper flexible the way a starfish is.

Brat - The name he uses to “bully” you

Y/N - Drags it out whenever he wants something from you.

Cutie - What he calls you most of the time.

You would call him things like:

Muscle Head : Cause he’s all muscle no brain

Baby : Cause it’s Abby spelt differently. (It kinda threw him off at first cause yk his band mate is also named Baby)

Loser : Banter is a very prominent thing in your relationship.

Himbo : He’s really pretty, you’ll be the first to admit it, he just isn’t the smartest sometimes….

Sweetie : Cause he can be such a sweet guy sometimes.

[ufo-encounter]

•3

monke. monke. monke. monke. monke. Join

[meowdei]

Sylus is infuriatingly talented at most things. More infuriatingly enough, one of those said talents happens to be grating at your nerves.

“Your towels are pretty rough,” he sighs, stepping out of the shower with nothing but cloth wrapped around his waist. “My skin is too sensitive for these. You should invest in better ones.”

The towel hanging on his waist is low. Very low. Instantly, you’re in a bad mood.

(On a normal day, you don’t think you’d be sour in any shape or form by the fact that a very tall, very handsome, and very well built man is standing half naked in your home with skin glistening from droplets of water. But when that man happens to be Sylus, it’s a lot more humbling than it needs to be.

He notices every lingering stare. And oh, does he love to make it smugly obvious that he’s noticed your eyes wandering.)

You make a point to look only at his eyes as you huff, “Oh, my apologies. Are my shower options not lavish enough for you, your highness?”

“I can overlook the shampoo—my hair naturally manages to stay rather soft. But this cloth is just offensive,” he shakes his head, making your eye twitch.

Bastard.

That happens to be a choice of word that pops into your mind often when he’s around.

“Your skin looks fine to me,” you say blandly. And then you make the mistake of casually glancing at his chest to make your point…which naturally, makes you stare at his pecs for a moment, which leads to sparing a glance to his abs, which means his v-line is right underneath—and by the time you’ve realized that you’ve done exactly what you swore you wouldn’t and taken a good, long look at his exposed physique, he clears his throat.

You meet his gaze instantly, and he’s smirking. Cocky, smug, arrogant, egotistical, bastardized—the list of adjectives you could use to describe the look on his face could go on.

“Taking quite the opportunity to make sure my skin is alright, are we, sweetie?”

“Don’t sweetie me, you asshole,” you hiss, “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“What am I doing? I didn’t think taking a quick shower would make the kitten throw a hissy fit,” he purrs.

Sometimes, you think Sylus likes to see you mad more than he likes to see you happy. He could have very easily won your affections for the night by walking over, planting a kiss to your head, and wrap his bare, muscular arms around you from behind. Or maybe, he could have just asked you to join his shower—that would have won him plenty of points.

Instead, he chooses to leave your water running for far to long it to be considered a ‘quick shower’, and he has the audacity to be picky about the range of shampoo and towel options, too.

Insufferable.

“Was the water pressure too hard on your sensitive skin too?” You mock, “Or perhaps the laundry detergent I used to wash the clothes you left is too irritating for your poor skin. Maybe I should clean the air next time before you visit.”

He chuckles, low and smooth—and even the sound of his laugh feels expensive. You feel a vein practically pop in your forehead.

But you like it. Despite it all, you like the sound of his stupid laugh, and you like the amusement of his stupid bantering, and you love the presence of your stupid, nitpicking boyfriend.

“Well, I was gonna say your shower is a little too low, but I think that might get me a few more hisses from the kitten,” he hums, “I did find it a bit troublesome to bend to wash my hair.”

“I think the problem is you for that one,” you snort, “Your fault for not fitting.”

“I’ll try not to be so tall next time,” he smiles sarcastically.

All too soon, he’s closed the distance. Damp, warm skin meets yours, making your breath hitch as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto that muscular (and very bare) chest. It’s like he read your mind—except instead of doing it to get on your good side, he’s still just doing it to tease you.

Bastard, you think for the hundredth time in one night.

“You’re exhausting, do you know that?” You sigh, rolling your eyes.

He lets out a low hum, curling his lips into a wickedly handsome smile as he answers, “I get told that here and there, yes.”

“You should self reflect, then.”

“And miss out on witnessing my kitten bear its fangs?” He gasps, mildly offended by the thought, “As if.”

You can’t help but crack a smile. You try not to, but every time, like clockwork, he manages to make you cave. Because he’s stupidly charming underneath all that stupidly annoying cheekiness—and you’re not immune to it no matter how hard you try.

“You could always replace my towels, you know,” you bat your lashes innocently, “I definitely won’t complain if you become the change you want to see in the world.”

He chuckles again, the sound low and this time, just a little bit endearingly sweet. “I guess matters are always up to me to take into my own hands. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Perfect,” you beam, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw as he relaxes his posture a little at the gesture, “And while you’re at it, I won’t turn down the fancy shampoo, either.”

He’s as exhausting as he is hot and sexy and cute and funny and charming and handsome and sweet and kind and precious and perfect and wonderful and adorable

But also exhausting .

[gghostwriter]

something fluffy i thought of is how spencer never had friends his age so he never got to have a real sleepover, so reader decides to change that and does all the cliché sleepover stuff with him (building a fort, pillow fights, facemasks,...)

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff w.c: 1.5k A/N: I’ve been in a writing funk lately so really took a while, so sorry about that! I wrote this with early season!Spencer in mind, think s1-s2. Not proofread cause i will second guess myself. Special thanks to @thegloryofliterature for helping me power through! Masterlist

Cucumber Slices. // Spencer Reid

Two pretty glasses on the kitchen counter, ready for use? Check.

Non-alcoholic wine chilling in the fridge? Check. 

No clutter in sight? Check.

Your eyes flitted all over the apartment, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be—no stray pair of shoes, overflowing from your cabinet, strewn all over the wooden floor. It was a problem you’d need to tackle soon or later, your lack of space in this otherwise tiny apartment and your shopping addiction, but that wasn’t top priority at this very moment.

No, the cause of concern was making sure all went well tonight with your new beau, Spencer Reid.

It was all thanks to a cup of spilled coffee down at your favorite shop that caused this new development. You remembered how wide-eyed, afraid, and guilty the FBI agent looked as he took note of your state of distress, pale pink blouse turning sheer from liquid. Your lips must have wobbled then, thinking about how your new top was ultimately ruined, that caused him to clumsily remove his plaid coat, smelling of cedar wood and worn pages, and wrapping it all over your slight frame.

With his tenor voice, he repeatedly apologized and proposed to have your top dry cleaned, hoping to salvage it, all the while offering a spare button down from his leather worn satchel. Honestly, you didn’t know why you accepted it then and why you shyly gave away your contact information. It was like his amber doe eyes, teary from stress, hypnotized you to saying yes. 

Catching sight of your reflection, you assessed the mirage in front of you. Hair casually blown dry, not too curled, and makeup kept to a minimum, a hint of gloss, that’s it. 

You didn’t want to come off too dolled up for his very first sleepover in history, a fact he humbly disclosed during your fourth date and a fact you wanted to rectify immediately, and for his first sleepover as your new official (the thought made you want to squeal) boyfriend.

Looks? Check.

The corners of your cherry flavored lips lifted into a smile just as a hesitant knock echoed through your tastefully designed apartment.

Boyfriend? Check.

“Coming!”

As you reached for the locked door knob, the excitement palpable on your face, a small inconspicuous package caught the corner of your eye.

It was a box of protection you bought, just in case.

You sucked in a breath, afraid of what could have happened if you just left it there. Quickly running to your bedroom and pulling the bedside drawer so harshly the contents rattled, you shoved the box away, face burning from the thought of being caught.

To be fair, it really wasn’t in your list to buy during the quick run to the grocery. It had caught your eye while checking out and added it to the cart without really much further thought. You definitely wasn’t expecting anything to happen tonight, knowing how fresh the relationship is and how shy Spencer is to any type of physical affection. He did once rattle off a fact how hands touching transfer more bacteria than kissing and at that moment, all you could think of was leaning in and meeting his lips with yours. 

There was another knock. 

“Just a moment, Spence!” You called out, voice cracking at the end as your feet slid against the waxed floor.

You paused, trying to catch your breath before swing the door wide open to the view of Spencer shyly smiling at you, weighed down by the amount of items on his hands.

“Uh—hi, hey,” he breathed out. “I-uh, I brought over some stuff we might need for the sleepover.” 

You giggled. “Did you bring your entire apartment with you, by any chance?”

“What? No, no of course not! I just—” he stepped inside your apartment, lowering the bags on the kitchen counter. “—I didn’t know what a sleepover would need so I did research and it—” gesturing towards the items. “—just snowballed from there.” 

You stretched on your tip toes, softly giving his cheek a kiss. “That’s sweet of you, Spence. Can you tell me more about what you found?” 

His face brightened, very much used to people not wanting to hear him talk on or off tangents. “Well, I brought a couple of games, one I borrowed from Penelope—” he pulled a chess board, a deck of cards, and Monopoly. “—I also got us assorted slice fruits to share, I read that people in sleepovers tend to eat take out, pizza or Chinese, which I brought too, and I wanted us to have a healthy dessert on hand and although chocolate seems to be the usual meal treat, it is primarily made of concentrated sugar with little to no added nutrients. Fruits, on the other hand—”

He paused, eyes slowly tracking the contours on your face. “—do you want me to stop? Usually the team would have cut me off by now and I don’t want to bore you.”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no! Not at all, Spencer! I love to hear your voice and i think its so cute that you researched.”

Rocking on his heels, he pressed his lips into a tight smile as his ears reddened in color. 

“Well,” you sidestepped to stand beside him, back facing the counter. “Should we get started?”

Spencer nodded, eyes earnestly looking at you for guidance.

“In my mind, a sleepover isn’t complete without this,” you gestured towards the ingredients laid out earlier.

A chopping board and it’s matching knife, one piece of unsliced cucumber, a tub of unopened Greek yogurt, and a bottle of honey.

“Is this for our snack?”

You giggled, bumping the side of his hip with yours. “You’ve got plenty to learn, my young padawan.”

***

“Are you sure this—” Spencer gestured to the concocted bowl in front of him. “—is sanitary? I don’t think I ran across this step when I was researching.”

Laughing, you pinched slices of cucumber between your manicured fingers and gesturing him to lean slightly back. “Of course it is, Spencer! I did trust the washing and cutting to you, didn’t I?”

“It’s just—I’m not quite sure what benefit we’re supposed to get.”

You leaned in, keeping a critical eye on your handiwork as if you were a painter inspecting the masterpiece. He smelled fresh, having taken a shower before settling on the couch in front of the opened television—he smelled of your body wash with a hint of his own scent you couldn’t describe.

Pulling back, you gestured for him to do the same to you, covering your bare face with the homemade face mask.

“Well, according to Paolo, the cucumbers actually do nothing but it’s nice to just get into the mood, don’t you think?”

The space between his brows threatened to disappear as the tip of his tongue peeked between his lips in concentration. It was absolutely adorable to see him wracking his expansive mind as to who Paolo was. 

“Should I know who that is?” 

You faux gasped. “From Princess Diaries?”

Spencer shook his head, leaning away from his finished work.

“As your girlfriend, I fear it’s my duty to get you up to date with romance movies. Which is why—” reaching for the remote to press play. “—I chose one I’m sure you’d know.” 

Classical music started to play through the speakers matched with a sunrise on an empty vast field and slowly, the title card appeared, Pride & Prejudice.

He chuckled, settling in on your off white sofa, shoulders brushing against each other.

As the movie progressed, Spencer softly whispered commentary under his breath, his voice rumbling from his chest, lulling you to ease. It felt so easy being with him. There was no second guessing the meaning behind his words, the meaning behind his actions. You still couldn’t believe your luck that you found The decent man of your dreams through a cup of spilled coffee, it was worth having your designer silk blouse as the casualty. 

On screen, Mr Darcy had reached to guide Elizabeth Bennet up to the carriage, bare handed. The camera cut then, focusing on his hand flexing from the touch of her hand.

Your heart rate picked up, this scene had always been your favorite. Such an inconspicuous move but quite scandal during their time.

Spencer cleared his throat, adjusting his position beside you, hand mirroring Mr Darcy’s. Slowly, as if he was unsure of your consent, he brushed the back of his palm with yours, intertwining the two pinkies together.

Breath caught in your chest, you wove the rest together. Both palms slightly damp from the nerves, he squeezed three times and in that minute, you knew. 

This relationship was for keeps. 

My inbox is currently closed for requests but comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[siddhigirls]

biggest fan

J.B x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), breeding, praising i.e good girl. lmk if i forgot any.

there you were, in the crowded stadium, watching your favourite football team playing and in the lead of the first half. during the halftime break you went on your phone as your boyfriend talks about how shit the other team is playing, you don’t pay much attention to him because someone else has your attention.

there he was, in all of his glory, your biggest celebrity crush— although you are a celebrity yourself you can’t help but fangirl over him. you were pretty close to the field so you could see him clear, he takes off his shirt to show off his perfect physique and you can’t help but drool. fans scream for his name behind you but it was just completely muffled in your head because all you could think of is how good he could fuck you. bellingham was walking your way to talk to fans, you play it cool but internally you were screaming. he comes up to talk to all the fans and sign autographs, stuff like that until he met with your eyes. “wait- aren’t you y/n y/l/n?” he asks, ‘holy shit he knows me’ you said in your head, you were classy though, you shook his hand “yes i am, nice to meet you.” giving him a friendly smile, he smiled back with his perfect teeth, matching your body language.

body leaned towards you, hand resting on the gate, his grip firm, intertwined with yours. you let go as your boyfriend also introduces himself.

you were fairly humble regardless of your countless movie roles, you were the talk of celebrity news. you have no social media presence, raising intriguing thoughts with a lot of your fans, especially bellingham. he was no saint when it comes to you, he constantly thinks about ways to get you, he loved that you were deemed the media’s secret desire. your thoughts were crowded by how you could get bellingham alone so you could show how much of a big fan you were.

-

months after the game many things have changed, there were rumours that jude had a new girlfriend, you and your ex broke up, yet you were still talked about by many.

you were in london, as it was your favourite place in the entire world, you were at a pub, having a glass of wine to yourself until you got a text from your friend that lived in london. he was having a big party and he was inviting you, mentioning that many celebrities would come. usually you’d decline and just stay at home and listen to the rain hit the window of your little apartment in the middle of piccadilly circus; but you wanted a change of scenery. forcing yourself to pay your tab and go home and get ready for whatever the night has in for you.

-

you got out the cab to see your friends place in the middle of nowhere, huge house towering over you and music loud enough to hear a kilometre away, you walked in, chin up high. you were never a nervous person, you were always very secure in yourself and knew you were a prize. you let yourself in to see multiple A-list celebrities in dresses from brands that aren’t even known to you, all talking to each other. you locked eyes with your friend and he gave you a warm welcome, kissing your hand and telling you how gorgeous you look tonight. “y/n darling, i swear you get more beautiful and beautiful as the time passes by, the bar is right there, help yourself to absolutely anything, if you want time alone you know where the guest bedroom is”

you nodded in response as you look at the people mingling. your friend was a football journalist so you expected to see a lot of football players in the room. you made your way to the bar and asked for an old fashioned, you decided to go outside your comfort zone so you spoke to the person that was right next to you. you recognized that clean haircut anywhere.

“hi bellingham” he turned around to lock with your eyes, butterflies in your tummy once again. “you again, you know pablo?” you nodded in response, “fancy seeing your face again, where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. you raised your eyebrows and said “oh we broke up a few days after the game.” you turned your body fully to him as he mirrors your action.

-

“you don’t understand how long i’ve been thinking about this” jude breathlessly says in between kisses as he brings you in the guest bedroom of your friends house, the moonlight shining through the blowing curtains, cold air hitting your skin, hardening your nipples making them peak through your skin tight dress. your beautiful perfume intoxicating jude’s nostrils, often going down to your neck and kissing it. “fuck jude me neither.”

slamming you against the wall as he pushes your dress up, you spread your legs apart for him like you were reading his mind, he kneeled down, looking at your clothed pussy with your wetness seeping through. he couldn’t wait any longer, ripping off your lace panties and starts teasing his dick against your right wet pussy. he entered you feeling your pussy swallowing his dick immediately, like your pussy was made for his dick. you looked down to watch him quickly thrust into you, turning you on even more at the sight. you couldn’t help but not keep quiet, his hand making its way to your mouth and holding it tight. “i know baby it feels good but i need you to keep quiet, no need for interruption. need to take my time with you- fucking christ you feel amazing” he purrs in your ear.

it was so full of passion— like you were meant to have sex with him. your pussy was getting stretched out by his thick cock consistently thrusting into you, you clenched on to him not being able to old your cum in any longer. “fuck baby just like that. i wanna cum with you just a little longer baby please” he pleaded. he sounded so good saying please in his birmingham accent. his thrusts became sloppy and slow. “cum baby, you can do it. you’re such a good girl— fuck.” he reassures you after you cum on his dick making a ring, his tip kissing your cervix as you felt his warm seed filling you up”

he pulled out of you, sharing one last kiss with you before putting his suit back on and wiping off the sweat off his forehead. he helped you put your dress back on and fixed your hair a little. “can’t believe my celebrity crush is about to walk around in public with my cum leaking outside of her.”

[losvroomvroom]

watching carlos's cafelito episode finally. here's some interesting tidbits. disclaimer: my rusty ass high school spanish + the autotranslate captions. hopefully i haven't misinterpreted anything.

gets along with gaëtan because they're both workaholics who love to be on the phone in their days off

can only be comfortable in a road car when he's not driving if his father is the driver

found out about the lewis -> ferrari move from rumors before ferrari told him and then called fred about it for confirmation (Ferrari When I Get You Round Five Thousand!!!)

BIG eye roll about the whole concept of red bull god bless

pleased little chuckle when the interviewer brings up how much jv likes working with him god bless

very optimistic about williams' prospects for the 2026 car, not thrilled about the 2026 engines but is reserving judgement on the cars themselves

talking again about how his mother managed the father-son relationship, telling sr when he was too harsh, reinforcing sr's advice when jr was sick of listening to him, etc

very excited to be a double uncle (both of his sisters have kids)

has realized that you have to celebrate a good moment in motorsport when you reach it, they may not happen very often due to the number of things that have to go perfectly

listens to podcasts about team building and leadership... he had some trouble expressing what he meant in spanish (presumably bc the podcasts are in english) but he was talking about the importance of no-blame culture within a team

likes to start post-race engineering meetings by listing all the things he did wrong during a weekend before criticizing the team or the car or whatever, which helps other team members admit mistakes without fear

he's a very shy guy and really likes his privacy. the interviewer said something like "i like that you're famous, i like that everyone knows you" and he was like "it's getting worse." and then implies that he should be less famous than instagram influencers. go-to example of "a celebrity" justin bieber. wishes he could drive his nice road cars in peace. embarrassed to talk about his billion nice road cars and drive them around. drives his golf so he won't be noticed.

he and pogacar are neighbors actually. carlos's push days on the bike are pogacar's recovery days

lists swimming, cycling, and synchronized swimming as the sports that require the most dedication

re his father retiring -- "if the stopwatch says you're fast, why would you retire?"

interesting stretch where he talks about when he has to battle fernando (says fernando's always very clever) and also about navigating the teammate relationship (says it's hardest one to manage)

always goes over races with his father, the evening of or the day after

signed his first ferrari contract at 9am in his pyjamas during lockdown

respects nadal & jon rahm (golf) a lot in terms of their attitude and approach toward sport. extremely tough on the field but respectful & humble, which he thinks is the ideal

says he comes across as an affable guy in interviews because he's become calloused to them but he is still shy & pretty reserved except when he's with his 3-4 closest people. tries to maintain a distance to people he thinks might be less trustworthy ("pirates", he calls them)

loves madrid SO much (not a new fact)

loves to talk about his karting program for kids 6-8 (his "minions"), says it's important to support the grassroots of the sport, wants to make it as affordable as possible

says his best friends now are the same as his best friends when he was like three years old. he doesn't make new friends easily and he's very closed off to new people. very important to him that he's kept the same friends his whole life and doesn't get why everyone doesn't do that. (adding this to the "carlos has strong and somewhat unusual views about the concept of friendship" evidence folder)

rapid fire questions segment. cerebral or passionate?--cerebral. what are you missing in your life?--more time for golf, i'm losing my swing. best driver in f1 history?--senna. who would win in the same car? alonso, sainz, verstappen?--sainz. advice from your mom?--be respectful, behave, smile more. what f1 drivers would you go to dinner with?--lando norris & charles leclerc. any advice?--smile more. the whole world needs to smile more. will you be a world champion one day?--someday, but I hope soon.

[prismkith]

Omg i just read your previous arcane request and i really liked it, would you do the same strange/weird reader but with the men of arcane (I love my frail Victorian man viktor) 🙏🥺

'Dont mistake me for the wind when she blows' pt 2

Arcane characters with a weird/otherworldly partner

Pairings: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko

Viktor:

This man would ADORE YOU!!!

He thinks you are the most fascinating person in the world. He could just watch you interact with the world for hours and never get bored. 

will let you hang out in his lab/office while he works, and he will often look over at you and catch you completely zoned out, staring into space wide-eyed. He’ll stare for a few minutes, wondering what could be going on in your mind that has you so blind to the world around you. Eventually, he’ll snap you out of it to call you over and show you his progress in his work. 

The way this man looks at you. Just stares at you with stars in his eyes while you ramble about something he lost track of a while ago. Watching you go on your little rant, absentmindedly wandering around the room and fidgeting with whatever catches your eyes. When you finish your ramble you pause and stare at him for a response. He just chuckles and says “You are truly a wonder”.

Jayce:

Definitely struggles to keep up with your faster rambles and odd speech patterns, and can find you a little overwhelming but you two still find plenty of ways to connect. 

When he found out you collected scrap metal, he totally geeked out. Now a regular date for you two consists of going out and finding pretty scrap metal and jewelry and anything you can get your hands on, and then spending the rest of the night welding together. Building little trinkets, inventions, or art pieces together. You have the creativity and vision, while he has the muscles and tools to execute it. 

Slowly as you start visiting his apartment, you find all your little projects together and slowly begin decorating his space, until it's practically a museum of your relationship. 

Ekko: 

Finds himself whispering “What the fuckkkk” every ten minutes when you guys hang out. 

Like for example, one time you two were hanging out in the firelights community, sitting on a bench some of the kids built and painted years ago. He looks down for literally one second, and when he looks back up you are twenty feet away, crouching on the ground and petting the raccoon he has beef with (said raccoon chases him every time he tries to take out the trash) and he just stared in utter disbelief as you treated his fuzzy rival like a house cat. 

You are 100% his muse. He has painted and sketched you more times than you can count. He has a tiny painting of you he keeps in a secret pocket of his jacket near his heart.

Instead of either of you ever verbally making things official or asking the other out, one day you just started painting an hourglass on your face to match his. Neither of you acknowledged it, but everyone knew that was when you two became inseparable.

_______________________

A/N: ask and you shall receive! these have been super fun to write lol, I was struggling to think of more habits and traits to give to the reader so I asked my friends for a list of any weird/odd habits I have or things I do for inspo, and oh boy was it humbling.

[rafeskiss]

imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.

[helslastangel]

I'm back bxtches

Random Observations #9

Y'all still need the disclaimer or will reason prevail?

🦂 Scorpio Mars are POWERHOUSES in my not-so-humble opinion. If you are prone to procrastination, especially in your career or as an entrepreneur, Aries Mars might hype you up but a Scorpio Mars (esp in 10H) is gonna make damn sure you finish your to-do list.

I had a friend with this placement and she literally bribed me with weed to come to her house, then she took my phone and house keys and made me sit and finish designing my business cards and send them to Vistaprint before she'd give my damn keys back. Made over $5K USD from my next few clients though so I wasn't even mad about it lol

🦀 I don't care what the astrology girls like to say - my observations of Cancer moons is that they are FORGIVING AF. Like it takes a lot for a Cancer moon to be really done with you and chances are you're more wrong than they are.

Cancer moons come off as manipulative to a lot of people. But when you actually dig below the surface, you'll notice this common thread where people who aren't good at seeing other people's points of view unless they need something immediately project that attitude onto people who genuinely give a shit.

Obviously there are evil Cancer moons and they're extra terrifying for the above reason, but they're the minority and the slander is unnecessary imo. The people who have literally put up with my WORST behavior the longest and genuinely dropped it after a good open conversation were all Cancer moons.

👬 Which leads me to another interesting astro trope I'd like to kick over right about now. Gemini moons. Love them but in my experience they are usually what people think Cancer moons are. Gemini moons, from my observation, don't soak up as much, if any, of other peoples' energies. They're gonna keep it moving emotionally regardless of how you wanna be in the moment. That means they can easily smile with you for years if that's the path of least resistance, but that does NOT mean they particularly like, care about or think highly of you at all. They MIGHT, but you will NOT know unless they want you to know or you somehow trigger them enough to rip the black tape off the redacted parts of their mental file on you.

If you're someone who is used to everything being totally transparent and straightforward, you're in for a wild ride with a Gemini moon in your life. I've had quite a few as friends or coworkers, etc., and I promise without fail there always came the day where I ended up wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, feet up on my desk, twiddling my thumbs listening to the 11-minute voice note from the latest Gemini moon in my life. Pretty much telling me in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought of me, where I should go, why, and how happy they would be to direct me there personally.

As a Capricorn moon, I never have the kind of reaction they'd like to this but it's always interesting to see the abrupt change as they can literally seem perfectly cool 3 minutes before the other twin takes over. I don't even think it's a good or bad thing, just how it goes.

Cancer moons seem this way but chances are you chose to ignore the VERY OBVIOUS SIGNS THAT SOMETHING (probably everything) was wrong, lol. Cancer moons can't hide their feelings for shit (reason #101 why I love them; it's easier for me to fix a problem if i can quickly see there is one 😂).

🦁 Let's change tracks and talk about Leo mercuries for a minute. Y'all get your inside and outside voices mixed up a LOT, lol. Every Leo mercury I know had trouble speaking quietly in quiet-appropriate situations but then catch them outside trying to get their friends attention at the other side of the street and suddenly it's like Tom got their tongue and tossed it to Jerry. Can barely get a sound out. Why is that? I know it wouldn't be all Leo mercuries but for those who experience this, please tell me what it is, I'm genuinely curious lol. As a Libra mercury I kinda have a similar problem. On another note, I've noticed that Leo mercuries can be highly persuasive people even if solely because of the amount of power and confidence they put behind the things they say.

My ex-husband has Leo Mercury at 24° (Pisces degree) and I promise you that man could make you believe anything against your will 😂 One time he was trying to get out of having to go to a friend's event and rather than just decline like a normal person, he crafted this masterpiece of an excuse that somehow involved me needing his attention (I had been on the couch under his arm half the day so no lol) but the way he spoke on the phone?

I swear to God even I caught myself nodding along all like "yeah, yes I did feel a bit neglected today and wanted more time with babe"... 😂😂😂 like NO TF I DID NOT FEEL NEGLECTED AT ALL but I got second-hand convinced lol. And yes he was loud when I or his friends were 12 inches away but couldn't raise his voice for shit to order through the drive-thru at McDonald's lol it was cute, though, I'd do the yelling into the intercom thing 😂

🐟 Lemme say this about Pisces suns - you are very underrated, from my observations. I've noticed Pisces suns in particular struggle with one of two major issues when it comes to others' perceptions of them - either people seem compelled to minimize/infantilize their contributions and achievements, or people fail to notice they exist altogether (or forget about them easily). I've always held my Pisces sun friends close for as long as I could and hyped them up because nearly every Pisces sun I've met has been incredibly talented and usually creative in some way. I'm talking genius levels of ability in some area that goes completely overlooked or undervalued by the majority of people in their circles.

These are the people who you vaguely notice as the cool server, hot bartender, friendly delivery guy, helpful sales associate, only for you to run into them somewhere else and you find out they run a whole personal training business or play 6 instruments perfectly and give lessons to kids, or taught themselves professional photography and have a camera in their bedroom worth more than your savings account. I've met so many Pisces suns who seemed to be one way and then there were so many layers to them that it was like reading an interactive novel.

That's what was on my mind for now, drop your favorite placement from your own chart in the comments, I'll compile them for random observations #10 😘

[jjwolves]

I humbly request help for my hyperfixations; that being-- small request if able!! ;w; (also fully putting myself on blast LOL) Could I ask about a headcanon/fic over Ena and Reader just having a once in a blue moon chill day? Lazing around, maybe a confession? Soft things, love soft things. <33 thank you in advance!

ON A DAY LIKE THIS •• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA the Worker X Reader on an Off Day

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~1000 words, ~5 mins

Credits: Image Banner → Joel G, Divider -> @enchanthings-a

Warnings: Very Mild Suggestive Content

ENA looked startstruck yet panicked at the same time, like she couldn’t comprehend what she had just heard over the phone. You weren’t sure what was happening—all you knew was that you could hear Froggy’s voice over the phone, yelling about something. You hoped ENA wasn’t getting fired—she was the only one who seemed to even do work when you were there, and she was not wired for unemployment. You were pretty sure she would explode, and not figuratively. You idly watched as she allowed the phone to be pulled away to wherever and she seemed to wither in her seat. Seeing this, you were starting to worry, so you asked ENA what was happening. ENA’s cap dipped down over her eyes. “Work has been canceled due to landslides.” Landslides? That didn’t seem right. There weren’t any mountains around the Hub. “Yes, that is why they were surprised when all the land slid off the blood lake. What do I do now?” You could see half of her face flashing white in confusion, or maybe she just couldn’t exist like this and was experiencing an error. “What do I do without the bitter remedy of employment?” Thankfully for her, you had an answer.

She looked at you suspiciously as you took her hands in yours. “Are you sure this is alright? I’m not sure this was defined in the contract.” You tell her that if work is canceled, the contract probably doesn’t apply. “Hum. A curious exception. But I’m already prepared to take on the world! I need to go take… something on.” You answered her insistence with a hand which plucked off her hat and set it on a coat hanger made of cartoon bones. She whipped her face towards you with fangs. “That’s my appendage! What do you think you’re doing, numbskull?!” You couldn’t get ENA to unwind the human way, since her mind didn’t work like that, so you’d have to help her unwind in her uniquely ENA way. You tell her that you have a very difficult job for her and that she needs to do it. ENA seems to soften at terminology that she’s used to. “Hard, you say? Hmm… What are you poking at?” You tell her that she needs to get ready for work in reverse, and in exchange you’ll trade her breakfast. “Consider it completed yesterday! Let’s get to work!” That’s the spirit.

You guide ENA through her mirrored schedule. She picks up a vacuum tube and sucks up all of the perfume she put on, and then she jumps out of her shoes backwards. Her suspenders slide off and so do the rest of her clothes, automatically. You turn around to escape the immodesty, to which you hear an echoing yell, “What?! You’re the one who said that here’s nothing wrong with my body, dammit! Fine, this stupid ritual is complete! Turn back around.” ENA had returned to sleepwear bearing colors that matched her work outfit—pale pink, red and dark green. The colors of schizo-industria division. ENA was standing straight like she might be caught misbehaving by an irate parent at any moment, but she was not one to be cheated out of something she earned. She started counting her pointy fingers. “I believe that you owe me the following itemized list: One. One strip of dawning meat. Two. A pair of yawning eggs. Three--” You cut her off and told her it was on the table. A soft, red hand firmly gripped yours (like a confident handshake in reverse!) and led you into the kitchen. “Then enough inventory! Let us conclude this transaction.”

You two spend the rest of the day relaxing and getting much-needed rest. As far as ENA has come today, you’re still determined to teach her the art of R&R. You guide her to a nearby seat and fluff a pillow for her, which she stiffly lays back against. You manually prop her legs up. “What are you—oh! Oh, that’s quite nice. Thank you.” You hand her a cup of tea and settle into your seat right next to her. You jump when her head snaps to scold you. “Hey buddy, quit wasting my time! This was your idea!” What? What did you do? “Unbelievable. It needs to be like this!” ENA seized your arm and folded it over her shoulders. “There, all done!” Despite the rough tone, she emphasized her complaint by leaning a little into you and giving a contented sigh.

You and ENA cuddled the day away, but you could tell that it was straining against her nature as an archetype of productivity. Despite the relaxation, her leg would always be bouncing or her claw’s tips would always be drumming. Maybe what ENA needed was something fun, and certainly non-work, but active. You idly commented on her clearly overflowing energy level. ENA looked at you. “Truth be told, it’s hard for me to be so still. I’m always open for business. This is the most I’ve ever relaxed while in possession of my consciousness!” You offered her an activity which would be perfect for a day off while also helping in burning off energy. ENA got a strange look in her eye and a began bouncing her leg faster. “Dearest, are you—are you suggesting--?” Cleaning! You two could clean the place! You ran away and returned with the vacuum tube and a washcloth which kept folding itself into origami animals. ENA seemed surprised for some reason, before steadily walking over and taking the washcloth from you. Wordlessly, you two began wiping the dust and occasional rude bug which found itself in your dwelling. This was much more ENA’s speed, and at the end of the day, this off day was about her. Your thoughts were interrupted when your girlfriend dutifully dusted a shelf before whirling on you and yanking you down by the collar, pressing a violent kiss onto your cheek. “We’re gonna do more off days! We’re gonna MAKE more off days! Mark my words!” She began to let go of the chokehold she had on your shirt. “And don’t think for a second I’m letting your little teasing slide next time! Got that?!” Her head twisted in a 360 and she continued on with her task. You have no idea what happened, besides the fact that you spent a great day with ENA. And it seemed like she was open to spending more.