my sugar babies

holy shit there's six of him

He was there again. The man in the green plaid shirt. He was hovering over the Nyaa-Chan merchandise that had just come in and you couldn't help but stare as he practically bounced on his feet at the display. He was shorter than you that's what you've started to notice after watching him for some time now, just at your chin level and part of you couldn't help but find it adorable. Most women didn't go for smaller men, but you weren't most women and for some reason this small man crying over the Nyaa-Chan backpack was suddenly picking up on your radar. Something alerted you everytime he walked in and the duration of his stay you would sit and watch him, he hadn't noticed you yet and the reason for that you were sure of was the fact that he had not brought anything in the time you worked there. Was he shy? Was he broke? You could only imagine. And you did. You imagined being that baby's sugar momma and you loved the idea. This fantasy was worryingly becoming a bit of a fixation, he was smaller and from what you could tell from his plaid shirt you were also bigger than him in the muscle department too. A small part of you hoped he was younger just to properly fulfill that dream. You just wanted to squeeze him in your arms and hold him forever.

A small scream brings you out of your fantasy and you see that the man you're idolizing is fretting over the price of the figure he's holding, it's of course Nyaa-Chan and it's a premium item too. In fact, the one he's holding is the last one in stock until the next season so no wonder he's so distressed. With sad eyes the man leaves and immediately you try and coolly rush over to the figure, this was your chance to secure that sugar baby and this figure was the golden ticket.

"Excuse me I'd like to buy that figure you're holding if you could ple-"

"It's not for sale,"

"Excuse me?"

"It's not for sale,"

"Are you serious? You can't decide that! Let me talk to your man-"

You turn and look the guy dead in the eye, he's average looking at best and you know you'll forget his face as soon as you leave work. You look directly into his eyes and grimace as you hover over him.

"I said it's not for sale,"

All the man can do is nod as you take your prize back to the counter and stash it away, you'll pay for it later of course but your biggest concern was the bastard who had most likely shit himself in the manga aisle.

Work passes by quickly and the figure in your bag brings a grin to your face as you walk home. Things were finally falling into place. You're catching attention with how big your grin is and you frown when a group of girls start whistling to get your attention, the scowl you send their way only sets them off further as they blush and squeal from a distance. This happened often. You weren't opposed to women gushing over you but it wasn't your sort of thing, lately women had been more attentive to your appearance then men who were sort of put off by your 'buff' display. You hated a man who felt challenged by your appearance and of anything if that was used as an excuse not to date you then he could go fuck himself.

The night was cold, and the freshness of the air stung at your cheeks but you couldn't be upset as you let the possibilities of the man in plaid run around your head. And that's when something pleasant smelling catches your attention and interrupts your little fantasy, you consider yourself to be a talented connoisseur in regards to food and stuffing it in your mouth so you stop and you couldn't help but follow the direction of the smell. You chuckle at what it leads to. The stand emits warmth and comfort as you see the glow of the light from a distance away, it's cosy looking and from what you can see the stand is full which further gives you the motive to see how good the food must be. On closer inspection you notice that there are in fact six people at the stand, all rather similar looking but all dressed in a variety of colours. Colours is what helps you identify your plaid man. Fantasy man is sat between the red one and the pink one. The figure in your bag beckons you to approach the stand. And you grin excitedly as you realise not only are you going to get food but you're gonna bag a honey whilst you're at it. As you approach, all six of them are talking loudly, making gestures and pushing and shoving as you look at the owner of the stand, a small - seemingly bald man who's shouting at them just as much as they are to each other.