#Roll Slitting Machine

[selfadhesivepaperindustry]

Label stock Kraft Paper Lamination Film Jumbo Roll Release Paper slitter

This model jumbo roll slitter rewinder machine mainly use for converting pressure sensitive material, such as self adhesive paper, sublimation paper, BOPP, OPP, PVC film. Differential friction rewinding shaft for better control tension.

sonia wei E-mail: sonia@makwell-mech.com whatsapp: 008613306265137

[boobearymuch]

Their Favorite Underwear (On You) —♡ LADS Headcanons

—♡Summary: They certainly have interesting preferences, that's for sure. —♡Tags: NSFW, suggestive, sex implied, afab!reader, no pronouns used, fingering, panty sniffing/licking —♡A/N: done staring at this I'm throwing it out into the wild —♡ masterlist

—♡ Caleb

Caleb’s favorite pair of underwear on you is somewhat an innocent pick. A worn out pair of cotton panties you’ve had since high school. 

They have some kind of pattern—either horizontal stripes, flowers, a repeating print of the cookie monster—doesn’t matter, he loves it all. 

They remind him of simpler times—laundry day when you were younger—and how they’d get caught up in his own load by accident. You’d flush bright red when he stopped by your door to drop them off, but he’d just throw his head back with a laugh and tell you it's fine.

He’s never told you how close he came to pocketing them instead.

In the present, he’s found himself on laundry duty again. The colonel is dumping your basket of dirty clothes into the washer when a familiar pair of cotton panties fall in. 

He doesn’t even bother looking around; Caleb reaches for them, breath hitching when he realizes they’re the same pair from before. He can’t believe you still have them. You really ought to buy some new clothes…

Something dark—hot—coils in his belly when he turns the gusset inside out and lifts the fabric to his trembling lips. 

It smells divine—a little on the tangy side, but he’ll make sure you drink more water from here on out. 

Then his tongue finally laps at the inner lining, and Caleb’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head. 

His hips jerk against the washing machine just thinking about sinking his tongue into your actual—

Your voice abruptly floats down the hall, some question he can barely hear, and Caleb tells you he’ll be right there.

Perhaps he will pocket these for later, after all…

—♡ Xavier

Xavier’s favorite pair of underwear on you…is actually his own.

His boxer briefs are basically yours at this point. 

When you sleep over and need a change of clothes, he just lets you borrow his; which is how you end up in an oversized shirt and boxer briefs in the first place.

Seeing you in his clothes is a thrill of its own, but seeing you in his underwear?

It’s an entirely new level of intimacy that has his ears burning red and his slow heart skipping a beat.

You wouldn’t wear just anyone’s underwear to bed, you’re wearing his.

He gets oddly clingy when you do, sliding in behind you in bed and nuzzling your shoulder as you scroll through your phone. 

You make some comment about a post you saw, but he’s hardly listening. Instead, his hand is sliding down your hip, stroking the fabric of his underwear and the heat of your skin. It brings a soft smile to his lips.

Xavier can’t help but think the slit of his boxer briefs is silly on you, sliding his fingers inside to gently stroke your pubes. It’s usually innocent, he just likes the texture.

But the hitch of your breath darkens his gaze, and Xavier gently coaxes you to continue scrolling as his hand sinks lower…

He hums in response to your little moan, fingers curling up into your slick heat. His other hand reaches around to take the phone out of your faltering grip and slams it against the nightstand. 

Xavier’s selfish, he admits—he doesn’t want you distracted by anything else while you’re wearing his clothes, his underwear…

You need to borrow another pair of boxer briefs by the time he’s done with you.

—♡ Zayne

Zayne’s favorite pair of underwear on you is not one you expected—thongs. He’s secretly crazy for them. Well, that might be an overstatement—but he enjoys the sight of you in them very much.

You’re surprised to learn about Zayne’s preference, though he doesn’t readily disclose it at first. You have to feign trouble picking between two sets of underwear first, and shove your phone into his face for an opinion. 

“...The one on the right.” The cool response is only betrayed by a fervent blush on his cheeks.

He likes slipping his fingers under the thin string, teasing and tugging. It leaves very little to the imagination; straight to the point.

Your order comes in, and Zayne secretly watches you slide them up your legs as you both get ready for a banquet. It’s all his mind keeps wandering back to throughout the night. 

Not only are you wearing underwear he picked out, but you’re wearing them to mingle with his colleagues. A rather distracting thought, isn’t it?

At one point during the night, you bend over to grab something, and the lack of a panty line reminds Zayne all over again what you’re sporting underneath.

He approaches calmly, interrupting a conversation with his colleagues by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

His excuse to leave early is well thought out—you suspect he’s had it in mind since arriving—but you’re barely listening when his hand wanders low.

It slides down your backside, and he absently thumbs the string of your thong through the fabric of your dress. 

…The car ride home is a short one, to say the least.

—♡ Sylus

If you asked Sylus, he’d say he prefers you in no underwear at all. 

But, if he had to choose, he’s rather fond of a simple red lace. Comfortable, practical, sexy. 

Not to mention, red is absolutely your color. The fact that it’s his too is merely a…happy coincidence. 

When he’s stocking up your closet in the N109 zone, Sylus makes sure to order only the best luxury brands exclusively in various shades of red.

The idea of you sauntering around base in his color is enough to make him purr at the sight of you, even when your underwear isn’t visible.

He makes a game out of guessing what pair you have on; is it the scarlet one with bows? Or perhaps the strappy maroon? 

Sylus finds out at dinner; you’re laughing at some ridiculous story when you uncross your legs, and there’s a flash of vermilion underneath your skirt. 

The one with heart cutouts? My my, you only wear that one when you want something…

His eyes roam you up and down as you continue your story, but you stumble over your words when a swirling red mist drags your chair closer to his.

You were quite bold for wearing such a bright color in public, and if anyone other than him was to catch sight of it…

Well, we can’t have that, can we?

Your breath hitches when his hand roams your thigh, smug eyes never leaving yours. His calloused fingers ghost the hem of your skirt, and your words trail off in anticipation of what’s to come next.

Sylus grips the fabric and tugs your skirt…down. 

Your face burns as he leans back with a chuckle, “You were saying?

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel’s favorite pair of underwear? Brazilian panties, next question.

They sit high above your hip bones while accentuating the curve of your tummy; absolutely divine.

Of course, you look divine in everything; hell, you’d look perfect in only a seashell to cover your modesty. But something about the aesthetic of these panties, specifically, gets him insanely hot and bothered.

He brings you back gifts from his trip overseas, but he flushes and fervently denies having anything to do with the three pairs of panties tucked behind the body lotions and skincare.

Rafayel quickly changes his tune when you suggest modelling them for him, though.

That’s how you end up changing into them right then and there, a minty lace pair with a little satin rose sewn to the front. You rejoin Rafayel, who’s been waiting patiently on his bed.

Rafayel can’t speak, only tugs the back of your thigh closer as he swallows thickly. 

Your pubes peek out the sides due to the nature of the design, and you make an offhand comment about shaving the next time you wear them. Rafayel immediately shakes his head—as if offended—and grips the sides of your hips, thumbs hiking the side wings further up. 

He flushes, and his nostrils flare right before he lowers his head to lick a stripe up your lace front.

His tongue burns through the fabric, and the Lemurian lets out a shuddering breath against your stomach. You barely register the chill down your spine when he licks you again, this time his teeth catching on the waistband.

You never get to try the other two pairs on for him…

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

What do you think of Phainon in his ultimate form x reader where Phainon is obsessed with the reader? Phainon’s gameplay animations made me go feral they look so gooddd🤍

BLINDED BY GODLY C☆CK !

paring : 2nd form phainon x fem!reader

tws : nsfw／smut, obsession, overstimulation, degradation, messy sēx, sloppy sēx, breeding kink, face fūcking, hair pulling, size kink, knot-like bulge, cōck worship, p*rn with no plot, crying, cūmstuffed, dirty talk, heavy dubcon, marking and crying. mdni.

The air crackles around you.

There’s no warning—Phainon doesn’t ask.

He takes.

The moment you lock eyes with him, you’re slammed into the nearest surface. The heat of his body is blinding, his hand wrapped tight around your throat, hands digging into your skin just enough to keep you trembling. His glowing yellow eyes scan your face, down your lips, then lower—dragging slow and filthy over every inch of you like he’s already picturing you naked, spread out, ruined.

“You’ve been begging for this,” he mutters darkly, dragging your legs apart with one hand between your thighs. “I see how you look at me. Don’t play innocent.”

Your answer dies in your throat when he rips your panties off with one brutal tug.

His hands barely brush your folds and you’re already soaking. He chuckles, low and satisfied, dragging one thick finger up your slit before shoving it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

“Dripping already. Look at this needy little pussy.”

You whimper, but it turns into a gasp when he flips you around, pressing your chest flat to the glowing floor, hips raised, legs spread wide. He kneels behind you, hands gripping your ass, spreading you open to look.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You were made to be split open on my cock.”

Then it hits you.

His cock—thick, glowing, pulsing like it’s alive—is rubbing between your folds, smearing your slick everywhere. It’s huge. Your walls already clench in anticipation, aching with need and fear. He lines himself up and leans over your back, one hand holding your hips still while the other wraps your hair around his fist.

“You’re gonna take it all, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna let me wreck this tight little hole.”

And then—he slams in.

You scream, legs shaking violently. Your pussy is stretched obscenely wide, his cock forcing its way deeper, deeper, until he’s bottomed out and still presses more in with a grind of his hips. You sob into the floor, face flushed and wet, body trembling from the stretch.

“That’s it. Fucking tight. You feel that? That bulge in your tummy? That’s me, baby. All of me.”

He starts thrusting, and you swear he’s fucking you straight into the floor. Your back arches, your thighs twitch, and your pussy makes the nastiest, wettest squelch with every stroke.

“Louder,” he growls, pounding you harder. “Let them hear how messy this slutty pussy sounds when I fuck it.”

You’re a mess—drooling, crying, your voice raw from moaning his name over and over like a broken record. He grabs your waist and slams forward, his heavy balls smacking your clit each time, cock grinding over every nerve inside you until your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, you clench when I talk like that,” he groans, pushing deeper, hips slamming against your ass. “You like being my girl, huh?”

He pulls out suddenly and flips you onto your back, pushing your thighs to your chest and slamming back in with a wet slap. You scream again—high, helpless—as he keeps drilling into you like a machine. You feel your climax hit you hard, soaking his cock as you squirt down your thighs, but he doesn’t stop.

“Oh, we’re not done. Not even close.”

He leans down, pressing your foreheads together, sweat dripping from his hair onto your skin.

“You wanna cum again? You want this cock splitting you apart while I stuff your pussy full?”

Your answer is a desperate, pathetic nod. He grins—sharp and dangerous—and starts fucking you even harder, jaw clenched, abs flexing as his cock drags against your overstimulated walls.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna pump you full until it leaks out for days.”

You can feel it building—his cock throbbing, twitching—until with one final deep thrust, he cums. Hot, thick, endless.

You shriek, back arching, your pussy milking him for all he’s worth. His cum floods you, messy and wet, spilling out around his cock with every twitch. And he stays inside—holding you there, cock deep and heavy, keeping every drop where it belongs.

“Fuck. Look at that. Stuffed full of my cum.”

He pulls out slowly, and you whimper, feeling every inch slide from your fucked-out hole, his thick tip dragging one final orgasm from you as your body convulses.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He drags you to your knees, cock already hard again, pressing it to your lips.

“Open that pretty mouth, baby. You made a mess—now clean me up.”

You obey.

Your lips are still wet with his cum when Phainon grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, forcing you to look up at him. His cock rests heavy against your cheek, still twitching, smearing your face with slick and spit.

“So fucking good with your mouth,” he snarls, golden eyes glowing hot. “You like being used like that? Just a little cum-soaker for me to ruin?”

You nod helplessly, drool dripping down your chin. You’re cockdrunk—completely. Your legs are jelly, your pussy’s still leaking from the first load, and he hasn’t stopped manhandling you once.

“Not done,” he growls, pulling you up by the hair, dragging your bare body against his. “That sweet little cunt’s not full enough yet.”

You’re laid flat on your back again, thighs trembling as he climbs over you. His cock is hard—again—already pressing against your abused entrance.

“I told you I’d breed you,” he growls, lining himself up. “Gonna stuff you full until you can’t even think. Until you’re mine.”

He thrusts in one brutal stroke, punching a scream out of you as your back arches, overstimulated walls spasming around him. He moans—loud and unholy—grinding his hips down like he’s trying to break something inside you.

“This pussy’s too perfect,” he pants. “Sucks me in like it belongs to me. Fuck, you were made to take this cock.”

You’re crying again—real tears—rolling down your flushed cheeks while he pounds into you. His claws dig into your thighs, pinning them open, spreading you wider so he can fuck you even deeper.

“Say it,” he growls, leaning down to bite at your throat. “Say you want my cum.”

“I-I want it!” you sob, voice cracking. “I want your cum! Please—fill me up again!”

That’s all he needed.

He lets out a low, animalistic snarl and slams in, holding himself there. You feel his cock throb inside you, his cum flooding your womb, hot and thick, gushing out with every spurt. You moan so loud it echoes, your body spasming in another mind-breaking climax as he paints your insides white again.

He stays inside you, panting heavily, glowing wings twitching behind him as the haze of power starts to dim. His claws slowly release your legs, and for the first time, his grip softens.

“Shhh…” he breathes, lowering his forehead to yours. “You did so good for me.”

You blink up at him, dazed, your body twitching with the aftershocks. His cock finally slips out of you with a wet plop, and the mess is immediate—his cum drooling from your ruined pussy in thick strings, pooling between your thighs.

But he doesn’t let you go.

His hands—now gentle—slide under your thighs and lift you effortlessly into his arms. You nuzzle into his chest, still shaking, and you feel it: the shift.

The glow fades. His hair softens to its usual white, the harsh light in his eyes dims to warmth, and the burning wings dissolve in gold sparkles. You’re now curled in the arms of the real Phainon—calm, warm, gentle.

“I pushed too far,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You’re trembling.”

You sniffle, still dazed, and he cradles you tighter, stroking your hair out of your face.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you now,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

He lays you down on a conjured bed of soft light, wiping your tears with glowing fingers. He presses slow, soothing kisses to your neck, your tits, your tummy—pausing to kiss the swell of your lower belly, murmuring:

“Full of me… just like you wanted.”

Your legs are jelly, your throat raw, and your brain soft, but the way he touches you now—like you’re the most precious thing in the universe—brings your body back to earth. He cleans you gently with light magic, kisses every bruise and bite he left, and tucks you into his arms, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“My beautiful little thing,” he whispers. “You’re mine. Always.”

And with one last sleepy sigh, you nod against his chest, letting him hold you like you’re something to be worshipped.

Because to him—you are.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[s0fter-sin]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[littlelovelunette]

I LOVE UR WRITING SHDJDKSJDJD. What about reader walking in on Sevika masturbating and then helping her out??? 👁️👁️

Caught In The Sheets

Thank you soooo muchhh, sometimes I question whether I put enough effort into my fics but reading these words of praise are just enoughhh

Contains smut, panty sniffing, masterbating, fingering, mention of Sevika's happy trail, pussy description (Sevika), oral

"Honey, I'm home," Sevika called out as she closed the door behind herself, she looked like hell. She was too tired to even support the weight of her prosthetic at this point.

With another very heavy sigh, she opened the bedroom and didn't see you there. She walked around and found a note on the table.

The note said "I'll be off to the market grocery shopping by the time you come back, can you do me a favour and put the clothes in the laundry? I love you~"

Sevika rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her dark lips as she read the note. Of course you had asked her to do the laundry. It was the one chore you couldn't do without her help.

Sevika didn't mind, she found it endearing how you managed to take care of everything around the house but when it came to something as simple as laundry, you were absolutely baffled.

Sevika thought of your face when she first taught you to do it and it went all over your head just like when she tried to teach you cards, Sevika dragged the laundry basket to the washing machine and opened it up, reaching for the first article of clothing.

Her fingers hook around your panties... From yesterday night and the residue over it, the wet arousal etched onto the crotch of the cotton fabric.

"Jeez," Sevika mumbled under her breath, and she looked around the room despite knowing she was in there alone before slowly bringing the cloth closer to her face and taking a small whiff.

She could've moaned. She could've. But she didn't. She restrained herself.

Sevika's breath caught in her throat as she silently made her way to the bedroom, she felt so filthy, so humiliated. Her usual dominant pride hurt as she walked in the shared bedroom, she questioned why just the smell of your vaginal discharge was enough to get her going, enough to make her want to touch herself inappropriately.

Sevika laid down slowly after undressing herself almost hastily, she pressed the crotch of your panties to her face again, taking in a deep breath and smelling your arousal which was a little wet still but she didn't care.

She just needed to feel like you were there with her, that's all she needed really. Sevika let out a soft breath and her hands slowly wet down past her happy trail and to her pussy. She had been neglecting her pleasure for so long, solely focused on making you feel good.

Rough pads of her finger toyed with her own clit eliciting a small moan from her, hips buckling a little.

"Since when have I become so sensitive?" She thought to herself as she pressed her clit using a single finger, "Oh my gosh," she whispered as she closed her eyes, holding the panties in a tight grip with her mechanical arm.

Sevika's fingers traced down her pussy lips, and rubbed her slit teasingly as she tried to picture you being there with her, "Oh fuck, fuck, you're such a damn tease," she whispered biting down on her bottom lip.

As she got close to cumming on her own fingers, she felt her wrist being yanked away from her heat.

Sevika, whining a little (almost), looked up and seeing you standing there with your hair in a messy bun, grocery bags in another hand and a motherly stern expression on your face. Her cheeks flushed red like never before.

"So this is what you do when I'm gone for a few hours?" You tutted, dropping the bags to cross your arms.

"No, I don't..." Sevika begun but then trailed off, a little bit of guilt creeping in her tone told you a different story.

"Sniffing my panties and touching yourself? Are you serious?" You asked though there was no heat in your voice.

"I don't usually... Do this," Sevika said completing the lie with almost comical difficulty.

"Lay back," you ordered and surprisingly Sevika obliged, laying back down and grumbling something inaudible.

Sevika laid down on the bed with her back flat, legs spreading a little to expose her wet pussy.

"What a good girl, hm?" You crawled in between her legs, "Keep on sniffing, c'mon." You urged and Sevika flushed redder but didn't protest, bringing your panties to her nose again to take a long whiff of your arousal.

Her head felt a little dizzy and mushy this time as your breath hit her clit, her eyes snapped open and wide when she felt your start sucking and slurping on her pussy, all sorts of wet lewd sounds coming from you.

Sevika gasped feeling your fingers playing with her swollen clit, you always found it attractive how big her clit was only making her more sensitive.

Sevika's flesh hand grabbed your head but you swatted it away, earning another small whine from her. Sevika, desperate, took another whiff of the pair of panties now entangled between her metal fingers. She cried in a high pitched tone as you grabbed her hips and bit down on her clit momentarily before resuming to delve your tongue in her hole.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck!" She screamed more profanities, cumming on your tongue as her legs started trembling a little. Her big muscular thighs also trembling from the wrecking orgasm.

"I hate you." She grumbled when you pulled back.

"Oh, you totally sniff the person you hate's underwear when they're gone, don't you?" You smirked as you picked the grocery bags up from the floor.

"... You'll never let go of this will you...?" Sevika looked away, face flushing more.

"Nah, it's too good."

[hw4-l1z]

OMG I JUST REMEMBERED YOU DO ATEEZ TOO

CAN YOU DO OT8 BP! HEADCANONS LIKE YOU DID WITH SKZ

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

BOYPUSSY SUPREMACY 🛐 made myself horny writing the last part 🥲

Sub!bp!Ateez x Dom!gn!Reader

Cw: gender neutral but reader has a dick//boypussy// pussy eating// fingering// use of toys// lingerie// unprotected sex// squirting// overstimulation// bondage// face sitting// thigh riding// public sex// slight dollification// bit of power!bottom!seonghwa

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hongjoong

Cutest most sensitive pussy ever

He'll always trap your hand between his legs whenever you play with him

You know how sensitive he is so you'd always rub his clit in gentle circles which gets him SO wet

Anytime you do something he finds hot or even if you're teasing him then he'd clamp his thighs together as he feels his panties starting to soak through

And my god he get WET

If he was sitting on your thigh whilst you tried to tease him he'd end up leaving a wet patch behind on your thigh

Sometimes it's so bad he has to actually change his clothing before anyone else but you notices it

It's why he begs you not to do anything when he's in outfits given to him by the staff since it's not his

He has quite a big clit with a hood which you'd surprised at the amount of other guys he's been with STILL couldn't find it...

But you'd always be right on point with it

I would imagine he had quite a bit of hair on top

Not like a bush but still quite a fair amount

He can squirt but it takes alot of time and effort to make him do it so you never do it unless you REALLY want to see him squirt

Salty in taste but you'd absolutely devour him cause you love how he tastes

Seonghwa

OHHHH MOTHERRRRRRRR

He'd wear such BEAUTIFUL panties

Only for them to get completely soaked through...but HEY that's what washing machines are for

Let's just start of to say...he does squirt but like hongjoong it takes him some times to get there

So more of a creamer but god he looks beautiful when he cums

Lip sucked between his teeth, eyes dazed and glossy, back arched as his hips jerk a little

Will moan so pretty for you as you eat him out.

One hand circling his bud whilst the other grips his thighs harshly

You'd eat him like he was your last meal on earth

His clit is small but sensitive asf

He's usually clean shaven but will sometimes let some hair grow out

He likes to shave it into certain styles though if he's keeping the hair

I'd see him more on the brownish side

Like a light brownish colour

He tastes sweet though and you LOVE it

Sometimes you like to make it taste even sweet by rubbing a lollipop between his folds and eating him out after

He can definitely still be on the more dominant side

That pussy can drive you crazy 😵‍💫

He's so tight

And he clenches around you even more when your cock is inside of him

He sends you into another world when he's riding you

He's sooooo fucking good at riding you cock

He'll force about 4 loads out of you before he's even cum once

He likes it raw

Sorry actually

He LOVES it raw

Wants you to fill him to the brim everytime

You'll always need towels under you when fucking cause it gets messy

Your cum mixed with his own release oozing out of him at once

If he's riding you, you'd feel it dripping down your cock and balls

The pussy is FIREEEEE

Yunho

Bald, slender pussy 😋

And oh he is just MADE for your cock

His walls wrap so perfectly around you

Squeezing so tight as you take him apart

Pillow princess part 1.

Let's you do all the work since he gets too weak and sensitive the minute you start touching his pussy

Shakes when he cums

He doesn't get superrrr wet but still enough for your finger to glide between his slit

Tastes like PUSSY

You swear the scent and taste of it is like some kind of drug

Your eyes rolling back as you turn into a fucking animal

Growling and snarling as you vigorously eat him out

The way he reacts to his clit being touched or rubbed is SO adorable

You love to make him cum multiple times with a vibrator held firmly to against his bud

Creamerrrrr

He releases so much cream when he cums

He's not a squirter unfortunately, you've tried many times

Yeosang

Ohhhh make him wear so many cute lingerie sets

He's so embarrassed when wearing them but he knows how much you love it

You'd always ravage him when he's in pretty clothes for you

And especially seeing that little wet patch on the panties

Drives you CRAZY

His smell is quite strong but AMAZING

Makes you feel like your going into rut once you catch a scent of his arousal once his panties are off

Sweet in taste

Too much will make you feel full

SO tight

You've tried stretching him more to get him to loosen up a bit more

But it doesn't work

Always needs a few minutes once you're inside him to adjust

You love how much he tightens even more when he cums

Loves to ride your thigh

Will make a wet mess on thigh

PINK

Cutest pussy ever

Small clit that's very sensitive

Can squirt but it doesn't happen often

Probably waxes, I don't see him being hairy down there at all

San

Where do I even start...

Veryyy sensitive and produces so much slick

His panties are ruined because of how wet he gets all the time

Waxes but sometimes has a small triangle patch of hair when he can't be bothered waxing fully

It's definitely pink

Squirts only when you eat him out or finger him

He's SO good at riding your cock

It's like pure ecstasy

He's got some strength to his legs so he can bounce on it for quite a while until he gets tired

So so so squirmy when you play with him

Holding his hips down against the bed as you fuck him with your fingers

He looks so cute struggling to move :(

Tie him up and tease the fuck out of his pussy

Using vibrators and dildos on him as he just sits there and cries unable to do anything

Would love to ride your face and cum all over it

Rocking his hips back and forth on your tongue as he moans so loud at the feeling

Mingi

Pillow princess part 2.

Will just lay there and let you do whatever you want to him

Usually has no hair but when he does he decides to experiment with it to make it looks pretty

He's dyed it pink before and you thought it was actually quite cute

Although he tried to bleach it blonde once and...yeah bad idea. It hurt alot for him

Shy but a huge cockslut

He's always horny for you and wants you to fuck him almost everywhere you guys are

But he's always do shy about asking

He's almost like a doll when fucking

He's so limp like he's just your doll to fuck whenever you please

You can do anything you want and he won't complain about it

He just lays there whimpering and moaning

You realized why he's so limp all the time one day though

It's because of how sensitive he is inside his pussy

Your cock hits all those prefect spots and makes him weak

You found this out when you fucked him in one of those mini bathroom stalls and he had to stand up for it

He was bent over the little sink as you pounded his hole from behind

His legs kept on giving out and you were basically holding him up the entire time or else he would've ended up on the floor

You found it adorable how weak he got

Pretty pink and sickly sweet

Wooyoung

Pillow princess part 3.

Only does nothing cause he's a brat and wants you to put the work in

So when you're punishing him you lay back and make him do all the work

He can't refuse it either since he's incredibly horny and has nothing else to help him but you

Gets tired so quickly

He's just not used to having to do all the work

He'll end up begging you to fuck him eventually

He's bitter-sweet in taste but you'd never miss a chance to get your mouth on him

Don't see him as a squirter tbh

Big nose big clit 😼

Turns into putty in your hands as soon as your cock is in him

Acts like a brat yet is a little whiny bitch when you fuck him into the mattress

Basically tried to make you suffocate when you eat his pussy

He doesn't mean to but it just feels too good he can't help but push your face into his core and squeezes your head between your thighs

Jongho

Chubby pussy 🙏

He's so cute and sensitive

Super shy super shy

He wants to moan so loud when you eat him out but he's too shy

He just bites his lip and grips your hair tighter

You LOVEA when he sits on your face but he's so scared incase he suffocates you or something

But that's what you want

So once he's finally straddled over your face you slowly pull his hips down until his pussy is flush against your tongue

You get so carried away and pull him down further whilst keeping his thighs locked in place with your arms

Rides your thigh almost all the time

It's his favourite thing to do

It just feels SO good on his little clit. He'll cum everytime

He's so incredible sensitive and cries everytime you fuck that he actually prefers anything but penentraition

Doesn't mean you never get it or it's necessarily a rare thing but he just gets so overwhelmed and he feels pathetic

Doesn't help that the lack of being inside him drives you a little crazy so when you do fuck, you're rough

It doesn't hurt, it's just too much for him to handle

You can rip about 3 orgasms out before you've even came once

Arms wrapped around him tightly as his heads buried into your shoulder

Fucking him so hard and deep whilst he just sobs

FUCK I'M MAKING MYSELF HORNY BYE-

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[starlinggirll]

hi idk if you're taking requests but could you write smt with art (could be dilf or stanford) and dacryphilia/choking/dumbification... just something freak nasty! i love your writing btww <3

husband!art fucking wife! reader in the laundry room . . . ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

"boys! dinner is ready!" you called out from kitchen, humming to yourself as your two little boys run from their room to the kitchen.

"what do we say to mommy?" art's deep voice cause the twins to fix their posture, putting their big smiles on and saying "thank you for the food, mommy!" that earns a small laugh from art, who approaches you from behind.

"thank you, 'mommy'." art whispers against the nape of your neck, his hand gently pressing against your tummy. "daddy!" samuel's voice cause him to stop midway from kissing your neck. "are you not going to eat?" art smirks, nodding softly.

"ofcourse i am, but my dinner is in the laundry room." "what-" before the twins or you have any questions, he's dragging you to the laundry room, and locking the door. "your food is actually on the table-" he shuts you up with a kiss, caging you against the washing machine.

he's being rough, manhandling you for your stomach to press against the washing machine, taking your jeans off with a rip. "i been waiting all day for you," he groans, his fingers rubbing your folds before he takes his pants down, his cock springing out of his pants against your ass cheeks.

you gasp, back arching like a cat as you bite your bottom lip. "you're already dripping, i beraly kissed you." he teases, rubbing his tip against your slit. "baby pleasee... the boys are just a few-" he once again interrupts you, pushing himself in. your mouth opens to moan, but nothing comes out. you're already so fucked out.

he always had that power over you, with just the slightest touch you would start drooling and trembling. "shh." he whispers against your neck. 4 of his fingers going inside of your mouth, it causes you to gag, eyes rolling back.

"that's it, you're milking my cock so good baby," he groans, his hips stuttering but he keeps his relentless pace, his cock hitting the deepest part of you. you bite into his fingers, chest heaving as you grip his wrists.

"does it feel good? i bet it does doesn't it?" he cups your jaw, making you look at him. "open your mouth." and you do, you always listen to him. the sight of your face, how fucked up you look, aching to be claimed again and again. his hands wrap from your jaw to your neck, restricting your respiration.

he grins, biting deep into your lip. "fuck fuck-" he whimpers, fisting your hair. "im gonna come inside of you, make you swollen and pregnant with my baby." he grins, burying his face into your shoulder. long cock stopping his abuse to your hole.

with a synchronized moan, both of you come, his seed filling you up with cause your legs to fail. "i gotchu sweetheart, i gotchu." he whispers, his hands going under your legs to hoist you up. "im gonna clean you up, then we'll go eat, yeah?" he doesn't pull out of you just yet.

relishing the warmth your inside give him. "you would look super sexy with another baby. or maybe another set of twins?" that earns a small jab at his ribs, your cheek resting against his chest. "maybe."

[mattsundaes]

Muahahahahahaha~ Let’s give our Iwa some attention; Iwaizumi and bathroom

familiar

hajime iwaizumi x f!reader

The timing has never quite been right for you and Iwaizumi—until a run-in with your ex at a wedding changes everything.

wc: 2.6k

c: 18+ only, best friends to lovers speed run, hurt/comfort, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), cum eating, past infidelity (not iwa)

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND - PART V

“Tell me what you need.”

Your nostrils burn from the cloying, floral scent that hangs heavily in the air of the oversized bathroom as you sit atop the sink’s white marble countertop, head leaning back against the ornate mirror.

Iwaizumi squeezes your knee when you don’t respond, his callused fingers gently grasping the bare skin exposed by the slit in your dress—if only by consequence, rather than a conscious choice. 

“A time machine,” you mutter, voice thick as you blindly reach out for the box of tissues you spotted near the faucet when you walked in. 

A hand brushes against yours, followed by the soft press of the thin, white square against the hot, angry tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“That’s above my pay grade,” he grumbles, “but I can go punch him if you want.”

You choke out a watery laugh, your fingertips colliding as you take the tissue from him and dab at the corners of your eyes before crumbling it into a ball. 

In hindsight, you should have known your ex-fiancé would be at this wedding, given the unfortunate amount of mutual friends that the two of you share. But of all the brash moves, you certainly weren’t expecting him to walk in with the woman he cheated on you with. 

You don’t miss him, not really. Not since it became abundantly clear he’d been fucking his personal assistant for most of your relationship. Not since you realized everything you thought you knew about him was a lie. 

It’s embarrassment and anger that fuels the remaining tears still threatening to traipse their way down your cheeks now, tears that soak into the new tissue Iwaizumi’s already patiently holding below your eyelashes.

“To be fair, I always wanted to punch him,” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath. 

Embarrassment, anger—and regret for the long-buried feelings for your best friend that now stands before you, his brows furrowed in annoyance and concern in equal measure.

It’s always been there between the two of you, this heady, dizzy feeling—charged and humming like the atmosphere on the brink of a rolling thunderstorm.  

But the timing’s never been right. Not back then, when relationships and school and sports and jobs were endlessly in the way. And certainly not now, when you shouldn’t even be hidden away crying in this obnoxiously fancy bathroom with Iwaizumi in the first place—not while he’s dating one of the bridesmaids. 

He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, too, because—

“You should probably go find—“

“—we broke up.”

You blink at him several times, caught off guard both by the admission and the unwavering way he’s staring at you now.

Well, you had thought it was odd that you didn’t see them interact at all leading up to the reception.

“Why?”

He inhales slowly before he responds, “She said I was too involved in what’s going on with you.”

A wave of guilt washes over you as you think about how he was the first person you told what happened—in the middle of the night when you got home early from a trip and found your side of the bed occupied.

The way he didn’t even ask before getting into his car and driving across town to pick you up.

The feeling of your fingers desperately clasping the sleeve of his sweatshirt on the sidewalk as you pleaded with him not to storm back into the apartment, the sight of his clenched fists.

The steady, reassuring warmth of his arms around your tired, shaking frame as he held you close against the passenger side door of his car when your trembling fingers couldn’t pull the handle. 

You spent that night in his bed, while he insisted on taking the couch. And in the weeks that followed, after you scrambled to find your own place, he hovered. He checked in on you frequently. He brought you food.

He—

It’s not like you can blame his girlfriend—

“So she—”

It’s obvious that Iwaizumi knows you well enough to anticipate your reaction, the way you begin to shrink in on yourself, because his voice is a little rough as he tilts your chin back up to look at him and says, “No, I told her that she could leave if she didn’t like it, because this isn’t going to change.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze has always been a heavy, tangible thing, but it’s particularly difficult to breathe under the weight of it now.

“What’s not going to change?” you ask quietly.

He leans in a little closer, standing between your legs, the inside of your thighs brushing against his hips. “The way I’m always going to put you first, whether I mean to or not.”

“Iwa—”

His eyes fall shut. “I hated when you started calling me that again.”

You’d started using his given name in high school, but the letters went quiet on your tongue in the years after, a forced wedge of distance.

A necessity.

It felt too familiar, more familiar than he should be to you, to your heart.

You didn’t realize how much it bothered him.

“Hajime,” you correct yourself.

A nearly imperceptible shudder runs through him, and when he opens his eyes, they’re filled with an emotion you can’t quite define, not under the duress of your rapidly beating heart.

“Tell me what you need,” he repeats, slowly and deliberately.

You.

It’s always been you.

Your fingers shake slightly as you reach out to grasp his tie, the silk smooth against your palm as you pull him closer.

“Hajime,” you whisper again, so quiet the syllables barely make a sound as they slide over your lips.

His forehead presses against yours, your noses brushing as he rasps, “You know I’d give you anything.”

A hot, heady rush floods your veins, and you press the heels of your feet back into the cabinet of the sink, if only to ground yourself as the honesty in his words scrapes against your ribcage. Releasing his tie, you carefully let your fingers linger against the side of his neck. There’s a sharp inhale of breath as your thumb makes contact with the hinge of his jaw, though Hajime’s own hands remain planted on the countertop.

The sound of your own given name is like a whispered kiss into the space that lingers between your mouths. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Hajime smells like mint gum and that same goddamn body wash he’s been using since high school.

Your heart stumbles as you breathe him in.

“More than you can give,” you admit, voice wavering under the raw honesty of your words.

He laughs, and it’s a low sound of amusement that rumbles in his chest. “I doubt that.”

Heat and anticipation and disbelief swell rapidly in your chest, and it’s enough to find the courage to finally quell the traitorous, steady itch in your fingertips—which seem to be moving of their own volition as they card through Hajime’s soft, dark, messy hair. 

He sighs, and it spurs you on further, letting your hand drop to the back of his head to tug at the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. This earns you a groan that dances haphazardly down the notches of your spine. 

“Show me what you want, Hajime,” you tell him, swallowing thickly.

It feels disarmingly natural, the way his hands come up to cup your face, the stroke of his thumbs against the curve of your jaw. 

He’s so fucking handsome, it hurts. 

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss to the tip of his thumb. “Please.”

Despite all the times you’ve imagined this, all the late nights spent staring at your bedroom ceiling, all of the hopeless scenarios you’ve kept tucked way like a well-worn note tattered to the bone at every groove—every little thing your mind has conjured up pales in comparison to the way Hajime’s lips finally come crashing into yours.

With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other sliding down to curl around your hip, Hajime kisses you like he’s wanted this just as badly as you always have. Like he knows every dip and curve along the shape of your lips.

Like he wants to swallow every last molecule that separates your mouth from his.

It’s all-consuming, the damp heat of his lips, the steady pressure of his thumb against your hip bone, the satisfied groan he lets out as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull yourself against him. 

His tongue skirts along the seam of your lips, slipping into your mouth as they part to deepen the kiss, and all of the want and need you’ve kept bottled up inside of you spills out into something hot and messy that scorches its way through your abdomen. 

Logically, some part of you knows you should probably talk about this somewhere, anywhere but this ornately fancy single-occupant bathroom during a wedding reception. 

But it’s difficult to pin down a single morsel of logic when the sole, unspoken object of your deepest desires is currently wrapping his tongue around yours as the large palm of his hand blazes hot where it’s pressing into the small of your back, the pressure of his fingertips burning through the fabric of your dress.

It’s an accident—the way you rock forward into Hajime when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, the breathy little moan that punches out of you at the feeling of his erection pressing into your hot core. 

But it’s not an accident when you do it again, purposefully grinding against him, the arousal simmering inside of you cracking open wide as he kisses you harder, groaning into your mouth. One of his hands makes its way up your side, caressing the swell of your breasts that’s been threatening to spill out of the top of your dress since you slipped it on earlier.

“You have no idea how distracting your dress is,” he growls, though there’s no real heat in the sound, only a desperation that curls around the edges of each word as he tugs the material down enough to expose one of your peaked nipples.

You have half a mind to complain when his lips part from yours, a trail of spit hanging between your mouths for a moment, but it’s a moot point when he leans down to swipe his tongue across the pert, sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Hajime,” you whine, fingers digging into his hair as he gently sucks, shameless in the way you rearrange the skirt of your dress to let the cotton of your panties press directly against the black fabric of his pants. 

But it’s still not enough to quell the fire in your veins.

“Hajime,” you whimper again, the sound almost embarrassingly needy as you hump the outline of his hard cock.

Hands grasp your hips, the air conditioning in the room cool against your spit-soaked nipple as he abandons it to press his lips to yours while he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

“I need you to tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your mouth. “This stops where you say it stops.”

Fingers trailing along the back of his neck, you run your tongue along his bottom lip, too drunk on your desire to feel shy about the words that push their way past your teeth. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He lets out a rough groan, taking your tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. Gently, he trails one finger down the length of your damp panties. “Like this?”

You shake your head, reaching a hand between your bodies to clasp his shaft, a fresh stroke of arousal unfurling inside of you at the size of it.

Hajime lets out a gravelly, disbelieving sound. “I don’t have a—”

All it takes is an exchange of breathless, needy reassurances about contraceptives and clean tests to find your panties stuffed in his pocket, the buckle of his belt clinking as he frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

He drags his fingers through your slick, dripping folds as you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him and keening softly, muscles taut with anticipation as he groans over how wet you are.

“And so fucking sensitive,” he mutters when you tremble and moan in pleasure as he slips a single finger into your cunt, his thumb swiping across your throbbing clit.

He hardly fares any better though when you spit into your palm and resume pumping his curved, leaking shaft, his hips jerking forward into the edges of the countertop. 

Hajime must feel how tight you are, must know what a stretch it’ll be to plunge inside of you, because he’s deliberate in the way he adds a second finger, and then a third, working your quivering, wet hole open until you’re panting and whining into his mouth begging for it.

Everything inside of your flares white-hot when he finally sinks his cock into the dripping warmth of your cunt, his lips against yours the only barrier to stifle the full volume of the wanton moan that spills from your mouth as you dig your fingers into his shoulderblades and rock forward until he’s balls deep inside of you. The tight walls of your pussy expand and contract against the thick stretch of his shaft, your legs trembling with pleasure. 

You want to writhe on his length.

You want to feel the stretch of it everywhere.

You want him to fuck you so deep you feel it for days.

You want to come so hard on his cock you can’t move or breathe.

It’s inescapable—the full depth of this yawning pit of desire, years of dreams that have left you restless and aching for the one thing you can’t have.

Couldn’t have.

But now—

It takes your fucking breath away, the dichotomy of this moment. The way Hajime’s fucking you so hard, the counter groans with each pounding thrust into your wet cunt. The way he’s tenderly cupping the side of your face and looking at you like he’d give you the goddamn world if you asked for it. 

(Having him would be enough.)

You’re so caught up in the moment, heart thrumming in your chest with too many emotions to grasp, you’re hardly prepared when the coil of tension in your gut unravels with the force of a whip, a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you as you go tumbling over the edge of your climax. 

“That’s it,” Hajime murmurs as he fucks you through it, fucks you through the messy, desperate kisses you slot against his mouth as you moan and whimper.

You can hardly think straight as your orgasm tapers off, your cunt still greedily taking in every inch of Hajime’s cock as he continues to thrust into you, but when his hips begin to stutter, the words leave you in a rush, “Come inside of me.”

Hajime’s thumb presses into the underside of your chin as he breathes heavily against your mouth, muscles tensing.

“Fuck,” he groans, burying himself to the hilt as his pleasure reaches its peak, his cock pulsing inside of you as ropes of thick, hot cum spill deep in your cunt.

It takes a few minutes for either of you to find the wherewithal to talk, the room quiet save for the sounds of your labored breathing and the soft kisses he presses to the corner of your mouth. To the curve of your jaw. To the bridge of your nose.

Fingers toying with his tie again as he tucks himself back into his pants, you watch as he pointedly does not give you back your underwear, instead pushing the flash of material further down into his pocket.

“Don’t I need tho…” you begin to ask, but you trail off as Hajime leans down and spreads your thighs even further apart before bringing his mouth to your cunt and lapping a broad stroke through the pool of cum leaking from your folds.

[aerynwrites]

Lost For Words

Gale Dekarios x gn!Reader

A/N: for the anon that sent in this request - I hope you and everyone else enjoys! I had such a fun time writing this haha.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: sexual content (not explicit), grinding, reader is a tease, gale is a flustered mess, suggestive talk, kissing, fluff at the beginning.

*I tried to keep this gender neutral, but please let me know if anything slipped through my editing!*

It’s not often you get any downtime, what with the parasite in your brain and all. 

But this evening has afforded you and your companions a rare but much needed free night. Most everyone has decided to spend the evening down in the tavern, drinking or gambling or whatever other pastimes happen down there. However, you and Gale have opted to stay upstairs, reveling in the unusual peace and quiet. 

Gale had been reading to you for a while, a fantasy book of some sort, but you’d excused yourself a few moments ago. Not because you were enjoying lounging in bed with him, but because a certain item in your bag has been calling to you since you received it. 

The Wavemother’s Robe. 

It has been a gift for getting ride of that machine that was polluting the bay waters, and you hadn’t really had a chance to look at it. 

But now, after you’ve retrieved it and stepped behind the dressing screen, you find that there isn’t really much to look at, at all. 

As you slip into the delicate yet butter-soft fabric, you can’t help but notice that it leaves very little to the imagination. So, in that sense, there is a lot to look at depending on who’s doing the looking. 

The neckline of the detailed collar of robe plummets down in a tragically deep neckline, the end reaching your navel. And the skirt of the robe is much the same, the slits in the sides coming up all the way to above your hip, leaving the fabric covering yourself hanging dangerously loose in the front and back. 

For half a second, you're tempted to rip the thing off and get rid of it. The whole outfit is somewhat absurd. 

But, despite your question about the functionality of such a garment, you can’t help but admire the beauty of it. The blue, scaled fabric sparkles in the dim candle light of the room, iridescent light bouncing off the walls whenever you turn. Even the small delicate chains at your hips and resting against your sternum twinkle gently. 

When you look in the floor-length mirror you can’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly. 

You look…good. If not a bit exposed. 

Without thinking much about it, you turn and come out from behind the screen, approaching Gale where he still sits on the bed reading. If he hears your approach he doesn’t acknowledge it, only flipping a page every so often as you watch him in silence, a small smile on your face. 

He’s sat propped up against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He cradles the book gentle in his hands atop his lap, eyes trailing over the page quickly as he consumes the story. 

You take a couple steps closer to the bed, now just an arms length away. 

He still doesn’t look up. 

“Gale…” you call in a soft sing-song voice. 

The wizard merely hums, inclining his head your way ever so slightly, but never takes his eyes from the page. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes as your smile tugs further at your lips. 

“I wanted your thoughts on my new clothes.” 

You watch as his brows furrow, his thumb sliding down the page to hold his place as he closes the book before slowly turning to look at you. 

“Your clothes-?”

His questioning is cut off with the audible clack of his teeth as his mouth slams shut, his eyes going wide as they finally take you in, trailing from your head to your toes before whipping back up again. 

He blushes. Actually blushes - his cheeks turning several shades darker as his eyes flit over your form once more before he’s back to looking at you all wide-eyed and scandalized. 

A shit eating grin overtakes your earlier soft smile as you take the last few steps to the edge of the bed, reaching out to pluck the book from his hands to toss it to the side. 

“So…what do you think?” you ask, voice dripping sweetness. 

“W-what do I-? I - ehm…it’s certainly - revealing-“

You drop your lips into a pout as you crawl onto the bed, your nose barely brushing his own as you swing a leg over his hips to settle on his lap. The robe pools between you, but the position causes the silken fabric to rise up your hips even further. One wrong move and even less would be left to the imagination. 

Something Gale must take notice of, as he instinctively reaches out to tug at the fabric on your hips, keeping it in place as his fingers dig into the flesh beneath it. 

“Do you not like it?” you ask, feigning disappointment as you reach down to toy with the chain running down your chest. “I thought it was pretty.” 

Gale clears his throat and shifts his hips, the evidence of just how much he likes it evident against your inner thigh. 

“N-No not at all I -“ He coughs, the blush reaching down to his chest now, making his orb mark stand out against the flushed skin. “I simply was not expecting…”

His words taper off as you begin to trail a finger over the mark on his chest, following the tendrils up over his collarbone and onto the sensitive skin of his neck, making his breath hitch. 

“Not expecting…what?” 

“Well - I was deeply entrenched in m-my reading and then you come out like t - that!” 

His last word pitches up when you grind your hips against his own, his fingers now digging into your hip bones. 

You lean in close, lips brushing his cheek as you speak. 

“Thats a very…lackluster description,” you pout. “Have I left the great Gale of Waterdeep lost for words? What happened to your supposed verbosity? And I remember something about a practiced tongue -“ 

Your teasing words are cut off sharply as Gale's arms wrap around your waist and he flips you both over on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a soft this just as his lips claim yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise. 

He wastes no time, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. 

Something you happily grant him. 

The kiss is eager, frenzied, leaving no room for the teasing banter you had established earlier.

His hands move to slide down over your bare thighs before hiking one of them up over his hip and holding it there as he presses his hips down into your own. 

Only when his hips meet your own in a desperate grind does he pull away from you, lips moving instead to trail kisses down your cheek and jaw. 

“If you had given me a moment to collect myself,” he chastises lightly. “I would have gathered my wits enough to tell you how magnificent you look.” 

“Ravishing.” He presses a kiss beneath your ear. “Captivating.” Another on the junction of your shoulder. 

“Absolutely sinful.” 

A sharp nip to your collarbone has you gasping, just as a calloused hand slides up the exposed expanse of your chest, fingers hooking beneath the delicate chains there. 

“So…” He trails off, his lips traveling down to where his hand lays and then lower, pressing lightly to where the deep plunge of your robe ends. 

“Since you were so impatient, I suppose I’ll just have to show you as well. To make up for my lack of…verbosity.” 

A moan slips past your lips at his words, and you can't stop the shiver of excitement that runs through as his hands slip beneath the fabric of the robe. 

Maybe you’ll keep the robe after all. 

[pricetagged]

The usual from me, I'm afraid. I'm back at my nonsense, typing up wife-hunter John while I take a break from tidying my apartment (: Here's part iii! (there will be more reader/john in part iv )

Masterlist l Previous

Content: More stalking, manipulation, voyeurism & marital sabotage. John's a bad man and I want him viscerally <3

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

It tears at him, rends flesh from bone with sharp little teeth. Corrugated. Rusty. It poisons his bloodstream, boils blood to madness and burns to feverish pitch.

It's a trap of his own design, and he just had to poke at it. He set it up, jaw wrenched wide and trigger taut and, god, he had to touch it. Had to feel the bruising pleasure bloom then give to something sharper. Sweeter.

In his more reflective moments he wonders if setting up the cameras was a good idea. He's a possessive old bastard and he's torn; not because of any hand-wringing morals, no. No, but rather that he's left himself licking along the knife's edge, close enough for it to cut if he presses hard. He can touch it. It's in his grasp, but he's not fully confident that he's the only one wielding it.

There are too many variables still.

And it's left him here, testing the pressure of the razor-sharp rim and wanting to dig deeper. (He fisted at himself harder than usual that night, flesh aching and engorged and throbbing as the cold metal of your wedding ring bit at the veins and ridges of his length).

The screen is his most hated ally. Pixels and light; the blue sheen. The static blur that raises the hair on his arms as he caresses your image. It's the sweetest torture, watching you boxed in by the four corners of a machine. Gazing on only the impression of you, shadowy and reflective, pacing the monitor. It's peiskos, but wrong. He has you in his home, but can only see and touch you in artificial impotence. It drives him wild, makes his throat ache and his head hot watching you, but not knowing how you taste.

That's not him, he thinks, having something that he can't fully possess. Even the bottle of 1926 Macallan locked in his cellaret has been cracked open, rolled around the palate and savoured before returned to the shelf. Locked safe behind glass, yes, but within reach.

He has to see you again. The trap is tightening, and isn't it funny that it's caught him too?

(His hand moved faster, pleasure simmering as he watched your wide eyes turn glossy and your voice grow thick. 'I don't know where it went! It must have fallen off in the garden, I swear!' Even being unable to taste it, to lick at your tears and feel you tremble-

-it had him tensing his thighs, body clenching in anger and heat as he listened to your apologies. As he listened to your pathetic, half-hearted moans. The way you gave in so sweetly, so eager to please and make good. Your husband's disgusting, breathy grunting. Weak. Unsatisfying-

-But it had his palm tightening around the tacky, swollen flesh at his tip. Slit leaking as the rage boiled his blood and sent it south in a paroxysm of rapture).

He sees Buck before he sees you. It's a necessary evil. No, that's not quite right. It's inevitable; it's reasonable. He needs to lay the bait, shuffle the leaves over it and let nature take its course.

It's a classic pub. A real boozer, where the floor is always slickly sticky and the walls are a cheery, tobacco-stained yellow. The kind of place that serves only pork scratchings and pints.

Your husband didn't expect to see him there. Fox in the henhouse, only he's too stupid to realise that he's the bird.

"System is running well, mate! Thanks. This round's on me," he claps at John's shoulder and does admirably well at hiding his nerves.

It has him smiling into the pint glass, schadenfreude as your husband subtly stretches his aching palm and paints on a wary smile.

(Foot hovering just above the spring; steel teeth ready to -)

"You here alone?" John sips at his drink, eyes scanning the dingy room until - yes, there in the corner he sees a familiar Union Jack cap. Good lad.

"No, no. My mates have just left. Like to linger, you know, for the company," he sends a wink to some pretty thing nursing a G&T by the window.

"Not enough company at home?" he tries to make it light, hoping that the gravel in his tone could be mistaken for interest. And it is, really, if prey drive could count as mere 'interest'.

Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in a way that looks a lot like rolling belly-up. 'Tell me I'm a real man, look at me! I've got the pick of the flock'. "You know how it is. Gets boring, fishing in the same hole all the time, eh?"

"I wouldn't know," he hums, eyebrows drawn low in faux-consideration. Meets him dead in the eye, lets the mask drop for a just a second. Let's the words come out flat and dangerous. "I've never had a problem reeling in what I want."

The words linger, settling heavy and awkward in a way that has him licking his teeth. Tension so thick he can chew it, feel the fat and gristle rend under the strength of his jaw. It's heady watching the way your husband flounders, not sure how to react until the pack leader backs up and loosens the canines at his nape. Lets him breathe. It's a joke, really. Go on. Laugh. And he follows suit so easily. It's almost boring, he thinks, with eyes cold and muscles frozen under his fake smile as he watches the man chuckle.

"You've gotta stay, Price, that's a good one. One more drink, c'mon." Funny. He thinks that it's his right to give orders. He thinks that John's staying at his command.

John taps twice at the foamy rim of the glass. Catches his sergeant's eye from across the room. "Sure, why not."

It's time.

It's masterful, really, how well Gaz slips over. Greets Buck like an old friend. Drops hints and in-jokes that have the man chuckling along as his eyes flit about with confusion.

"Can't believe I've run into you, here. I thought I'd seen the last of you when you moved house, what, a year ago?" Kyle slides into the barstool on the left. Boxes him in, piggy in the middle. "Still with that finance company?"

"Yeah, yeah it's been a while," he trails off. Too proud to admit that he doesn't know Gaz. Has never met the man. John can feel the way his eyes keep flicking towards the side of his face. Needy. Histrionic.

"You lads catch up, have fun. I'm away for the night," he sets the empty glass at the bar with a soft thud. Makes a show of introducing himself to Gaz and waving the two of them off.

In the cool air of the smoking area he has a moment of fika. Cars roll by on a distant road. The muffled sound of laughter and murmuring filters through frosted pub windows. The rich, heavy smoke of his cigar swirls around and around until he's closing his eyes in the haze. It's slow, calming, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the hand that he's about to play.

He thumbs over the smudged screen of your husband's phone. Only 2 missed calls and 1 text.

>>Sorry to go on at you, but you said you were finishing work at 5 today. It's nearly 8 now. Can you at least let me know where you are? We were going to start that series tonight and I've been getting worried waiting for you :/

Poor, sweet thing. Polite, too. All love and care wasted on the pathetic, juvenile lump slumped over the bar right now. 

(It whets his appetite, seeing how well-trained you are. How you toe the line, defer to the farcical rules set out for you in your relationship. 'Stay at home. Don't blow up my phone.'

Would you come to heel for him? If a weak, useless hand could shape you so well, what could a strong one do?)

<< Sorry, baby. I goty caugtht up at the pub w some friends. HAd a few drInks. Cmome and get me? [LOCATION SHARED]

He flicks the stub of the cigar away as he pockets the phone.

Curtains up; show about to begin.

He settles into his seat, a well-worn booth. Threadbare, stained upholstery and faded coasters. It's shadowy here, tucked away in the corner but offering a perfect line of sight to the door. And right by that very door is Gaz, your husband, and the pretty thing from earlier.

The bell jingles; wind whistles in.

Gaz lets his grip slip, lets your husband slump in the seat until his head is resting against the neck of the woman he was chatting up. Fingers inching up her thighs as she laughs and flirts back.

"What..?" it's too noisy in here to hear you, but he's listened to your voice over and over. He knows just how your pitch is rising. The slight crack on the final consonant.

You stand, face screwed up as you try to make sense of the situation. But two plus two can only ever equal four, and your husband's hands up a skirt can only ever equal- 

"Hi, gorgeous. Here to meet someone?" his sergeant grins up at you. Plays the charmer so well. "Got an empty seat with us, if you fancy it."

There's a little bitterness cutting at the furl of your lips. You're holding it in so well but, god, the words must burn, coming out like bile. "What, sure that I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, no. He said he's just having a little fun. Said he wants something warm before he goes home to his bitch wife," Gaz chuckles, leaning towards you like he wants to whisper a secret. "Bit sick of hearing his complaining, if I'm honest. Makes her sound like a right harpy. But you could take my mind off it."

"Not sure about that," he sees the way your chest hitches. Sees the sob that you swallow down as you steel your expression. "I am the 'bitch wife'."

And it's magnificent. Kyle's played his part so well; stuck to the script like he's performing at The Globe. An ad-lib here, an improvisation there. He hands you a napkin, rubs at your shoulder as he looms over the treacherous tableau he fashioned for an audience of two. You, and John. Ache and Hunger; betrayal and mastery. He maneuvers you, keeps you from causing a bigger scene as he hauls your husband by the scruff of his jacket. Choreographs the steps so that John can see every last microcosm on the universe of your face.

It's his set, his design. He's the architect, director, and audience all in one.

(And that foolish, stupid player of yours tugged at the lure. Found himself swinging, tied up in the string).

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

Ik reader wasn't really present here, but had to get the ball rolling (: Also I've been stressed and not sleeping so forgive me for this being a bit...

And yes. John stood there and put all the typos in that message on purpose. Unhinged.

[kitmon]

Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside. 

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back. 

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

[hai7ani]

os ventos do amor ᡣ𐭩 ー haitani rindou

the five times rindou shows you he loves you (tries) & the one time he finally tells you about it.

( the winds of love ) friends with benefits + colleagues au, mdni

一 · in his kitchen (prequel)

The first time Rindou tries showing you he loves you, you're busy slurping noodles in his kitchen, and he's creasing his brows ironing your stupid little blouse in his tiny laundry room.

"Need some help?" You tease from the table after swallowing.

Usually you'd let him do it himself in peace, with no mocking, as per his own request to iron your clothes for you whenever you stay the night. But he's been at it for the past 20 minutes now just ironing one stupid blouse, and you're starting to grow impatient, because he'd promised to share this bowl of ramen with you but it's almost finished now.

Your voice echoes in the living area and he doesn't reply, but you know he heard you. You put down the chopsticks and sigh, "you know, I could've done it myself. No need for the trou-"

"Here."

You cock your head to the side and you see him, finally, out of the laundry room, with some sweat beading on his forehead and he's padding towards you, holding out your white blouse to you by its hanger.

He's still frowning when he stops before you at the dining table and you can feel his deject before he even says his next words:

"It's a stubborn crease, 'n I coulda done better. But I don't wanna burn through your shirt." He hands you your blouse and you immediately soften at it, fingers gently running over the said crease and you can tell he's done his best ー he did a great job, because if it were up to you, you would've chosen to give up halfway through.

"And sorry I ripped your skirt. I'll buy you a new one this weekend." He apologises through a mouthful of ramen and you reach a thumb up to wipe away some soup dripping down his chin.

Your eyes flicker to the said skirt sitting on the edge of his couch ー a black linen pencil skirt with a little slit running up your knee is now a big slit running up your hip, and the sight makes you want to laugh. You'd stripped it off and threw it there upon entering his house ー a little angry and upset that he'd ripped through your favourite skirt to wear for work out of eagerness to fuck you in the backseat of his car without getting you both home first, and he'd offered to iron your shirt for the next day out of guilt.

And now you're left in nothing but your undies, still not yet showered (you're waiting for him together), and you notice it's a little red on the tip of his ears. But your fury has died out long ago and seeing him like this ー somewhat embarrassed and you think he's kind of stupid for apologising because deep down you know he knows you don't mind at all, but he still says it anyway ー makes you want to grab him by his cheeks and place a fat smooch on his lips. But you don't, and you continue to watch as he swiftly finishes up the noodles before turning to wash the dishes.

"...Thank you, Rin." He doesn't see it but you're smiling when you say it to him ー shy, rosy lips a little pursed, the apple of your cheeks rose high, and he resists the urge to turn around and cup your cheeks with soapy hands.

"Whatever. 'N the noodles were disgusting. Remind me to never buy it again."

"Okay."

二 · in the office

The second time is when you catch him in the printer room the next morning.

He's photocopying documents by the printer, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and he has one hand manning the machine with the other supporting his body. His fingernails tap beats against the hard surface as he waits for the next batch of documents to finish printing.

Rindou doesn't notice your presence and you don't make yourself known either, choosing to watch him by the door as he makes quick work of counting and organising and stapling together freshly printed documents while making sure they're all in the correct order for the team meeting later ー and you think it's so bad of you to be ogling at his exposed arms with indecent thoughts of doing many things to him floating in your mind as his muscles flex under the light with his every move.

But you don't let your thoughts consume you, and he looks up at you ー now standing beside him with your arms tucked behind your body and a cheeky smile planted on your face.

Rindou focuses back on his work, obviously in a rush to complete everything, but he still acknowledges you nonetheless.

"You're up to something." He sighs while stacking together the stapled documents.

You feint a pout.

"...'M not." (He interpreted this as "I am.")

Rindou has never once told you this but he always thought that you had somewhat of a close resemblance to a cat. A very annoying Siamese cat that behaved like his previous one, constantly following him around and begging him for attention while also pretending like it isn't.

But it's nothing new. Rindou had come to a conclusion a while ago that you like to keep him guessing, and you particularly enjoy acting nonchalant when it's so obvious to him right now that you want something, anything that can keep you going for the day.

"What, you want a kiss or somethin'?"

"...Kinda,"

Bingo.

"But I want to use the machine more than I want a kiss."

He smirks, though he doesn't give it to you just yet, and you begin to count and prepare your own documents in silent when he doesn't reply. (You think he's ignoring you and it's awkward.)

But Rindou doesn't step away even when he's finished and you're confused. And unlike yourself, he doesn't have a knack for keeping you guessing. He speaks before you have the chance to ask.

"How many?" He grabs at your papers and lays them face-down on the machine before closing the shutter. His thumb hovers over the screen, eyes unwavering against your own as he waits for your reply.

"Um, ten copies." Your smile slowly widens when he finally presses 'print' and steps back for you to take over. He doesn't collect his documents to leave, however, and you raise your brows in confusion when he moves to close the door gently (and locking it, too) before shutting the blinds altogether.

"What're you doin'? Aren't you in a rush?" You question.

He shrugs and makes his way over to you.

"I've got time," he says it while trapping you against the machine with his two arms, lips quickly hovering against your own and you can smell a hint of the peppermint gum he likes to chew on from time to time.

"The machine's all yours," he licks at your bottom lip, "and now, for your kiss..."

I've always got time for you.

You think it's a great thing that the printer room doesn't have a CCTV.

三 · at the mall (shopping for your skirt)

Rindou has a good eye for things. You knew it the moment he'd picked out a pair of Daiso's reindeer-printed socks for you as your Secret Santa a few Christmases ago.

(You've always liked reindeers, but Rindou simply bought it for you because he didn't know what you liked.

You'd jumped in happiness the moment you opened your present and Rindou thought you were actually the prettiest girl alive.

You'd pounced on him in excitement, yelling out your gratefulness for everyone in the party to hear.

He'd decided that he wanted you then.)

So you're in Aeon browsing through skirts without him even though you came out here together. You don't know where he is, and you've given up on looking for him after phoning him a few times and wandering around like a lost child looking for its parent.

But you hear a cough behind you and you turn around, only to be greeted by the sight of a really pretty dress hanging from his finger.

You admire it from top to bottom ー a really nice coral pink dress with large hibiscuses printed all over with a little slit running up the thigh ー and Rindou moves it closer to you.

"Whatchu think of this?" He asks, nervous eyes a little dodgy against your mischievous ones, and you smile a little when taking the hook off his finger.

"I wanted a skirt, not a dress." You comment, obviously poking fun at him and Rindou immediately reddens like a tomato. "Forget it, then."

He reaches a hand out to snatch it from your own but you take a step back away, clutching the dress to your chest tight.

"Didn't say I don't want it, though." You jut your chin out and he snorts.

"I need to make a call," he fishes his card out from his wallet and hands it to you. You grip on the flat plastic tight, afraid of losing it while also in shock because why did he hand you his card? He's acting like you're both a married couple now.

"Text me when you're finished." And he shuffles away with his phone pressed to his ear.

四 · during the phone call with his brother

"Yo, Aniki." Rindou greets the moment his brother picks up the phone. After eight rings, what the hell is this idiot even doing?

"What?" The older man answers from the other line, phone tucked between the shoulder and his ear while he's rushing to prepare his daughter's dinner.

"You busy?" The younger boy asks. He shuffles his weight from heel to toe while standing in front of a wall full of different mugs and bowls at the home appliances department.

Pink is nice. She likes pink. Or should I get red? It's almost Valent-

"Uncle Rin-rin!" His niece's voice booms through the speaker, cutting Ran off and Rindou immediately smiles at it. "Hi, sweetie."

And Ran takes over the phone again. "What's up? Speak before I hang up. I'm a very busy man." Rindou resists the urge to snort at it ー he has a favour to ask, after all.

"How do you..." The younger pauses, oddly feeling a little too nervous to continue. Though it is his own brother on the other line that he knows although very annoying, he would still be there to help, Rindou finds it a little embarrassing to be asking him about this. He's never done this before, and he's not very big on asking his brother for favours too, and Ran is surprised at the sudden question shot that's been left hanging.

He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He knows Ran will never let this go if he asks, but he decides to screw his ego because in the end, it is for you.

"How do you, um," he taps his foot on the ground.

...Fuck it.

"How do you chase a girl? Or something like that. Whatever it is."

"...Chase a girl? What girl- Oh. The one you've been sleeping with."

"What the fuck? Not in front of my niece, dude."

"Relax, I put her down a while ago."

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

Ran only laughs boisterously at Rindou's annoyance, but he doesn't leave his brother hanging.

He's always here for him, no matter what.

"So what're you thinking? Any options?" Ran asks. Rindou grabs at a white mug with pink flowers painted on it before replying. "Mugs."

"Mugs? Like for drinking, mugs? You're not serious, Rindou? You're buying mugs to chase a girl, are you insane?"

The younger clicks his tongue and puts the porcelain back on the shelf albeit a little harshly. "Why else do you think I'm asking you, asshole? Just tell me what to buy. I really don't know."

"I can't tell you what to buy for a girl you're chasing, dude. And I don't even know what she likes. What does she like? You tell me."

He ponders for a moment. "Dresses. Pink stuff." His mind travels back to the night you first met, at work, as clerks, when you'd included your hobbies into your introduction and one of it was gardening. "And like, flowers."

"Then just get her flowers, you already have your answer." Ran deadpans from the other line, but Rindou only hisses. "Yeah, but I already got her a pink dress with flowers printed on it. What else?"

"I'm talking about actual flowers. You can get them anywhere, and most importantly, never fails to make a pretty girl smile. She already likes flowers anyway."

"...'Kay, thanks. You're useful for once."

"Fuck off." Ran clicks his tongue. "...And red tulips, if I may suggest. And remember, tell me how it goes-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

五 · aftercare with you

Remember when I said that Rindou wanted you the moment you'd hugged him in excitement after seeing some lame reindeer-printed socks wrapped up nicely in a little box tied with a pink ribbon on top?

Yeah. He'd wanted you since then. But instead of starting off as friends from colleagues before getting to know you better and then asking you out on a date when he feels the time is right ー like a normal, sane person ー the both of you had gotten into a mutual agreement of becoming friends with benefits.

You don't remember exactly when it started, how it started, who initiated it, and neither does he, but you don't really care. Not when he's busy rubbing soft circles on the bruise forming on your hips for some comfort while he pecks you again and again on your forehead as you slowly fall asleep beneath him. He'd lost focus for a bit and gripped you a little harsher than he should've, but you really don't mind, yet he still feels bad.

And Rindou thinks you're prettiest like this ー neck and chest painted in hickeys that he'd sucked (out of adoration), eyelids droopy with your bags a little red from the tears of bliss you'd shed, and the back of yours fingers are gently caressing his left cheek. Your room smells of sex and lemongrass and a quiet 'sleepy?' is all he asks when your eyes finally close.

You hum out a lazy response of 'yes' before moving the same hand down to rest it on his nape, playing with the ends of his mullet a little, and you push him down to rest on your chest.

It's heartwarming. It feels intimate. And despite your abnormal relationship title with the man, you don't reject the sudden swell of your heart and neither does he.

So he presses a soft kiss to the top of your left boob ー right where your beating heart resides ー and you hug your legs a little tighter around his waist. It's nothing sexual and you both know it. It was all just to bring him closer to you, for you to feel more of his warmth in the coldness of your bedroom paired with the chill of February.

"Sleep then." He assures, voice gentle and lulling, and you smile a little at it.

Rindou is always softer at times like this, you realise ー when he'd fucked the life out of you after a particularly long day, when he'd made you moaned out melodies that he swore belonged to heaven, when he'd spent hours between your legs lapping up everything you have to give him.

Though you don't let yourself go at his words, and he watches amusedly as you try your hardest to fight back dear sleep in his arms. You don't think you're ready to sleep yet. Something feels out of place, oddly, even though you're sure you have completed everything that was in your checklist today.

Laundry, washing the dishes, prepping for Monday's meeting... You've done it all, and yet you still can't pinpoint what it is that is missing.

Until he moves up to silently place a warm kiss on your neck ー where your pulse beats against his lips ー and he realises his life hasn't really started until recently, until the day he'd met you and he thought you were such a breathtaking girl. Colours had burst into his world and your smile was the first thing that had lightened up.

And while you're happily drowning in his attention, Rindou silently wonders if the two of you were perhaps lovers in your past lives.

He wonders if you'd be willing to catch him. To be there, holding your arms out and yelling to him that you're here and to not worry; for him to just fall into your arms and he'd be safe ー you'll catch him.

Because he is falling. Hard. And he doesn't know how to tell you about it. He hopes that for the past few days his gestures were enough to tell you a portion of his love...

Just a portion, though. Because he wants to tell you the rest when he finally gets to call you his. Under the moonlight, at dinner with his brother and his family, before his parents at their graves every anniversary, or in front of your dog that's pawing at your door asking to be finally let in... Whatever it is, he wants to show the world that he loves you.

So when you smile sweetly up at him as he grows hard against your thigh ー a silly little love boner that you must've thought was just him getting horny to you massaging his sore backー Rindou's become a little more certain that the two of you must've met one way or another in the previous lifetimes and have fallen in love with each other when you gently trail a finger down his abdomen, before finally wrapping a hand around him.

Rindou wonders what it'd feel like to be yours in this lifetime.

And he gives in to your touches. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and lets you play with him as you please.

He thinks it's kind of cute that even as friends with benefits, you've already engraved a piece of yourself onto him.

Like the extra sets of pencil skirts and blouses that you leave hanging in his wardrobe in case of last minute plans that he swears are a hassle to iron because he can never get the creases right. But he never complains, and he would always offer to iron your clothes each time you stay over at his house. Or even when you don't. Because he would always find your stuff sitting in the basket when he's doing his laundry. And he'd have to iron them neat for you, before hanging it up in his wardrobe for you to wear the next time you stay the night.

Or like your toothbrushes hanging next to each other on the wall in his bathroom ー pink and purple facing each other by their bristles because you'd insisted out of the blue on a random Monday morning, at the start of your "relationship", with foamy toothpaste in your mouth and your hair poking out in every different direction it can go.

And sometimes your shoes bring him joy too, whenever he would get up to check on the door while you're falling asleep in his bed and he'd spot how your black pumps are always somehow scattered messily next to his own neat dress shoes by the entrance, and he'd have to squat down and rearrange them nicely.

He looks back up at you with ragged breaths and a coil in his abdomen that's threatening to break anytime soon. You're still giving him the same smile that drives him nuts every single time, and he leans in closer to give you a little kiss on the lips that you very much love.

And Rindou comes to a sudden realisation that he wants to tell you he loves you now. He needs you to know that he's all yours. You're his sweetheart.

So he does what he thinks is right ー what he feels is right. He reaches over your body, towards the marble vase on your nightstand that your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present, and he picks a fresh flower out of it after careful consideration. You don't move from your spot, only trying to kiss whatever skin of his that your lips can reach from your position ー his shoulder, his bicep, his arm, his neck... And a familiar smaller-sized tulip appears before your eyes. You raise your brows a little at it.

"Pretty fuckin' girl," is all he murmurs before pushing himself into you.

"I'm all yours." He whispers.

A peaceful winter night and Rindou fucks you again in missionary with so much love bubbling in his chest and a red tulip tucked behind your ear.

终 · during breakfast together

"Do you want eggs?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

You kick your feet and watch from the bar as he cooks you both breakfast in your kitchen. You're covered in one of his shirts that he'd left sitting on the back of your chair, your tired eyes scans over his half-tattooed back covered in scratch marks, and you feel oddly proud to be the one to have done all that.

But you know it is not right. And you're not stupid ー you're aware of the things he's been doing these days, and if you were a forgetful fool you would've missed the rule you made with him at the start of your intimacy.

Never catch feelings for each other.

...But you were no forgetful fool, and the ache in your heart is too painful for you to ignore. You'd seen the way he looked at you last night ー the way he'd fucked you like you were the finest thing personally handcrafted by the hands of God. And because you treasure your friendship, you know you shouldn't be doing this to him. You think he's a good person, and you want to remain friends with him.

But you don't want to let him go.

"Hey, Rindou." You call out. He's in the midst of scrambling your eggs with butter when you do so. "Yeah?"

"Rindou," he hums again.

Ever so patient, but I have to break your heart.

"...We should end things, Rindou-kun."

Saturday morning and it feels as though his world is falling apart from your simple sentence. Like you've ripped apart his beating heart that pounds solely for you and threw it on the ground.

You are so cruel.

So much for all that last night, he thinks. So he turns around after hurriedly switching off the gas. The wooden spatula covered in eggs is still in his hands when he faces you in agony and you want to break down and cry.

You feel like a villain. The evilest villain of them all.

"Why? Was I too rough on you last night? I- Or were we too open about it? Tell me." He's worried. He's so worried that it almost makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Purples flicker between your own and your lips wobble. You grip the hem of his shirt tight in your hands and look down.

"Please, tell me." He pushes again, so you decide to tell him truthfully.

Be a big girl, don't cry. You've survived 25 years of life, cutting things off with your FWB should be easy.

"...I've caught feelings."

Except it's not.

A lone tear makes its way down your cheek and you wipe it away quick. "Sorry, I broke the rule. I caught feelings and I- I don't think it's right for us to continue this any further." Your voice cracks with every word you speak and it makes you want to cry even further, because he's not saying anything.

And despite the strong stance you've presented to him, Rindou knows you're putting on an act for him. So he puts down the spatula and shuffles to you. He stops before you and tilts your chin up with his finger.

You'd half-expected him to be upset about this as much as you are, because you know the feeling's mutual, but you respect the rule of your relationship more and you don't think it's right to continue on.

Except he isn't, and he's so fucking smug about it.

Rindou's got a huge grin on his face when you look up at him. Hair a little messy, a hickey on his jaw, and you're sobbing into his arms now.

"You like me." He states.

You kick him a little and continue to cry.

"You like me, huh?" He repeats again.

Rindou has an arm wrapped securely around your waist with the other hand smoothing the back of your head as he shushes you gently, rocking you both side to side and you hit him a little on the chest.

"Do you think this is funny? It's not funny. I'm being serious." So you try pushing him away in hiccups but he only laughs as you struggle against his strength.

"Why do you wanna end things?"

"As I've said, I broke the rule. It's not right anymore."

He snorts at your reasoning. "You know, rules are always meant to be broken."

"So you don't respect me enough to follow my rule?" You're trying to pick a fight but he doesn't quite buy into it, choosing to kiss your forehead instead as you continue to wiggle your way out of his hold.

"I've never been one to follow the rules anyway." Rindou mutters against your hair as he presses another kiss to your crown. You're too endearing to let go, he thinks, and he holds you anymore tighter to himself at that.

"And who said if it's right or wrong? Screw rights and wrongs. We both like each other, the feeling's mutual. There's no point in letting each other go." He wipes your tears away with his palm and cups your cheeks with them. "I know you don't wanna let me go."

You swat his chest again at that and he only laughs harder at your reaction. He thinks you're the most precious thing in life. In his life. In the universe. You're the most precious thing ever.

"I like you a whole lot, you know." Smooch. "More than you'll ever know." Another smooch. "Let me be yours."

You pout as you look into his eyes. Purple orbs sucking you in deep and you have no choice but to fall. Purple orbs that tells you these arms will catch you if you do. And another kiss to your soul that tells you everything you need to know.

"Okay."

You'll catch each other.

"I love you."

You're already catching each other.

😅😅😅😅😅 been mia for so long bc i've been working on this. Its been in my drafts for soooo long LOL and this was supposed to be a valentines day special but i didnt make it in time cus i was bz sleeping.. but i hope you guys like this a lot ^^ listen to the playlist if u have time! And i tried a new layout too i hope it looks nice.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

© HAI7ANI ON TUMBLR / DO NOT STEAL

[nemorein]

Jasmine's rolls have been so poetic. Stacking up to 5 exhaustion and dodging death only by an earlier selfish choice (fully reframing that as the tried-and-true instinct of Self Preservation). Trying to not slit a throat and immediately gets Brutal repercussions—the gang boss and her bodyguard acting like the mother and child that they were almost got her killed, and then got her to live. Nat-20-insighting fucking ASMODEUS when he's being way too cocky (seems to be a habit of his lol) and No One tricks a seasoned street rat on something important. Jasmine set up her story beautifully and her dices truly obliged. Fiedra to me seemed like someone who has a very big heart, and internally had to balance that out to deal with the situation she was in, by being extra convincingly ruthless with pragmatism. We often don't know why we feel a certain way, or by extension do a certain thing. She hatched an egg which would give her a helpless infant to take care of for years, while she herself was a street kid? What do you mean, child? Was she in Any condition to raise a child?? The tender thing was not something she was supposed to do; therefore, that Must not be what she was doing. Dragonborns make for great bodyguards, it was good investment, that's why. Crokas would go help children in need without being asked, at harm to himself. Fiedra, who ostensibly cares only about herself and her own, was so proud of him and helped to reassure Celeste. Crokas learned it Somewhere. Luckily he didn't have to justify it to himself. In the long run this justification machine is obviously Extremely Hurtful. But… I'm so glad that whatever shaky hazardous scaffolding she scrambled to set up in her brain carried her through this far, and that she's in a place to disassemble them now.

[jessiso]

"Mine"

A Criminal Minds one-shot | Dom! Aaron Hotchner x Sub! Reader (18+)

After you flirt with a new agent, Hotch’s jealousy snaps—and he shows you exactly who you belong to in the most possessive, dominant way possible.

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, rough sex, possessive behaviour, spanking, dirty talk, jealousy, dom and sub dynamic, degradation/praise kink

w/c 1,200

...

You don’t mean anything by it.

Really, you don’t.

The new transfer from DC—Agent Carter or whatever—is just there, and you’re bored. A little sass, a little eye contact, a little smirk. Nothing major. Just enough to let your lips curl when he compliments your shooting stats, or when he leans too close under the excuse of reading your file.

But someone else is watching.

You feel it—him—before you even see him.

Aaron Hotchner is a constant presence in your peripheral.

Silent, watchful, calculating.

You can feel the heat of his gaze from across the bullpen, his posture stiff, arms crossed. That jaw of his is tighter than you’ve ever seen it, the muscle ticking like a warning.

You should stop.

You don’t.

...

It’s after hours when it happens.

Everyone’s gone, the office dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the vending machine and the sound of your heels echoing down the hallway.

You don’t expect the door to your office to slam shut behind you.

You whirl around—your breath catching—just in time to see him.

Hotch.

His tie is gone. Sleeves rolled. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his eyes? God, they’re molten black.

“What the hell was that today?” His voice is low. Dangerous.

You blink, playing dumb. “What was what?”

“The flirting.”

You cross your arms, cocking a brow.

"With Carter? It was harmless. You jealous, Hotch?”

He doesn’t respond.

He just walks. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a predator with all the time in the world.

You back up until your thighs hit the edge of your desk, heart pounding.

Then he’s in your space. His hands slam down on the wood beside your hips, caging you in.

“You think that’s funny?” His voice is gravel. “You think it’s cute? Letting some boy sniff around you like that?”

You swallow, trying to stay composed. “I don’t belong to you.”

A dangerous smirk curls his lips. “No?” He leans closer, his breath hot on your ear. “Then why are you soaking through your panties right now?”

You gasp, and it betrays you.

He knows.

You’re fucked—and you love it.

He doesn’t kiss you. Not right away.

Instead, he spins you around and bends you over your desk like a goddamn doll.

Papers scatter, your breath whooshing out as your chest hits the wood.

“You want to act like a brat,” he growls behind you, “you get treated like one.”

You feel his hand snake up your skirt—rough, fast—then yank your panties down.

Cool air hits you and your knees almost buckle.

Then—

SMACK.

The first slap lands on your ass, sharp and loud.

You whimper.

“Count.”

“What?”

Another slap.

“Count.”

“One,” you breathe out.

“Louder.”

“One!”

The second is harder. Then the third. You count each one through gritted teeth, your core throbbing between your legs, dripping down your thighs. By the fifth, you're moaning the numbers, thighs shaking.

“Look at you,” he hisses. “Flirting with that little agent like a whore, and now you’re dripping all over my shoes. Filthy girl.”

“Hotch, please—”

“What do you want?” he snaps. “Use your words.”

“I want you—God, I want your cock, please—”

He laughs, low and cruel. “Oh, now you remember who you belong to.”

You feel the head of his cock rub along your slit—teasing, punishing.

“Beg for it,” he growls. “Beg me to fuck you like the slut you are."

“I’m yours,” you pant. “Please, Aaron—I need you to fuck me. Claim me. Make me forget his name—please.”

The growl that rips from his throat is feral.

He thrusts into you in one smooth motion—deep, brutal, unforgiving. You cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk as he pounds into you with zero hesitation.

“Say it,” he grits between thrusts, each one rougher than the last. “Say who owns you.”

“You do! You—fuck, Hotch—you do!”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, your back flush against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. The only one who gets to hear you moan like a whore.”

“Yes—yes, only you—”

His hand snakes between your legs, fingers circling your clit with expert pressure. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably fast.

“You gonna come for me?” he murmurs, mouth pressed against your neck. “Gonna soak my cock like the desperate little slut you are?”

“Yes—fuck—Aaron, I’m so close—”

“Then come. Now.”

His voice—his command—tips you over the edge.

You shatter.

Your body spasms, pulsing around him, crying out his name as he fucks you through it. You’re barely coherent, trembling, when you feel his pace falter.

With a groan, he thrusts deep, filling you to the hilt as he spills inside you, hips jerking.

Then silence.

Just the sound of your ragged breathing and his hand resting on your ass, rubbing softly.

“You ever let anyone else look at you like that again,” he mutters, voice rough, “and next time, I won’t be so gentle.”

You laugh—hoarse, breathless.

“That was gentle?”

He smirks.

“Careful,” he says. “You’re already on thin ice.”

You slump forward, skin slick with sweat, chest heaving against the desk.

Your legs feel like jelly, your brain a haze of overstimulation and satisfaction.

You barely register the soft grumble of your name, not until his hands—those big, capable hands—grab your waist and pull you upright, pressing your spine to his chest again.

He doesn’t pull out right away.

Instead, he stays inside you, holding you there, like he’s making a point. Like he wants you to feel him, long after this moment ends.

“Still think you don’t belong to me?” he murmurs into your neck, voice low and wrecked.

You shiver, tilting your head as his lips graze just below your ear.

“I didn’t think you cared,” you whisper, still breathless.

His hand drifts up, cupping your jaw. Gently. A sharp contrast to the way he just claimed you.

“I’ve cared since the first time you walked into my office with that smart mouth and those eyes,” he says. “You just didn’t notice.”

You blink, chest tightening in a way that has nothing to do with lust.

Hotch finally slides out of you, and you whimper at the loss. He turns you around carefully, lifts you up onto the desk, and starts to clean you with one of the tissues from the box nearby. His touch is precise, gentle, almost reverent—like he’s making up for every filthy thing he just did.

“You okay?” he asks, meeting your eyes.

You nod, smiling a little.

"More than okay.”

His gaze flickers to your throat, then your lips.

“You’re not allowed to flirt with anyone else,” he murmurs. “Not unless you want me to bend you over in front of them and remind you who fucks you like this.”

You laugh, throat raw, and grip his tie that's still draped over the chair beside you.

“Noted, sir.”

He leans down, lips brushing yours finally—soft, this time. Like he’s sealing the deal.

When he pulls back, he’s smirking.

“You’re coming home with me.”

It’s not a request.

And God, you don’t want it to be.

[pussyydestroyer]

“First date”

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara and you work at a store in New York, having to restock some things on a weekend as punishment.

Warning: None. Y/n is just a little awkward and nervous around Sam, plus alcohol and all that stuff.

Word count: 6.3k

A/n: It's basically the story of Usnavi and Vanessa (played by Melissa Barrera) in In the heights but these are F!reader and Sam with some details changed and different from the musical so that Sam's character in Scream fits better 😋

I was inspired by The Club but wanted to expand it further to get to that part

“Stop being a jerk and come help me!” You shout as soon as you walk through the door with a large box in your hands, and you see Tara standing at the register doing absolutely nothing.

Completely bewildered, she raises her head and reluctantly puts her phone aside when she sees you giving her a withering, amused look. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

She gets up from where she was and walks with slow, unmotivated steps until she reaches you, walks around you, and enters the warehouse, where the other boxes are to refill the shelves with food.

“Thanks,” you say sarcastically with a knowing smile, only for her to shake her head mockingly in response, making you chuckle.

Tara and you are friends from college, you being the oldest by two years. You’ve both been working at a store for a couple of months, hoping to earn some money for yourselves.

One day, she showed you a post she found online about a small shop looking for staff. At first, you were skeptical of the place because of the reviews, but the next day they were both hired since the owner was desperate for workers.

The job was relatively easy; they just had to serve the few customers who showed up and restock the shelves and vending machines whenever the food ran out or expired.

They spent so much time together in college and at work that they got to the point where they became very close.

"Why are we doing this?" she exclaims tiredly as she carries a box to the other side of the room, even though she hasn't moved from her seat since the day began. "I mean, it's Saturday. We shouldn't be doing this."

Tara was right. Her contract had a set schedule that meant she didn't work weekends. But it was both of their punishments for doing so.

You laugh and roll your eyes as you pull some candy that had expired a few days ago off the shelf. "Maybe it's because someone was caught idling and eating the store's merchandise?"

A few days ago, both of them were literally lying on the counter watching some silly YouTube video since there hadn't been any customers for a couple of hours. So they decided to eat a snack or two to pass the time.

Only when you open a can of soda does the owner appear and see them not doing their homework and with empty wrappers in plain sight.

They make up terribly lame excuses so that in the end, he decides to check the cameras and discover that they haven't moved from their spot for about four hours.

With amusement and feigned annoyance, she tidies up the shelf across from yours. "Speak for yourself. I only ate one potato chip."

“Liar. You also had three wrappers of chocolates on the counter,” you exclaim, squinting at her expectantly through the small slits.

You feel her shifting in place as she giggles and continues tidying.

“It was exam week, okay? I was anxious about the results.” You roll your eyes and nod in mock understanding at her perfectly valid excuse. She laughs with you before adding, “And don’t act like a saint, you ate things from here too.”

You feign hurt, placing a hand on your chest, then speak more calmly. “And I totally accept the blame.”

You simply laugh, glancing at each other as you finish arranging the things on the shelf for when the door opens, ringing a small bell that signals when someone enters or leaves.

You peer at Tara through the cracks and tilt your head in a quick motion toward the counter.

"I know," she sighs before dropping what she was doing and heading behind the counter to wait for the woman who just entered to pay.

You smile sarcastically at her for a few moments before placing the last few treats.

You take a quick look around the store to check if anything else needed restocking until the completely empty refrigerator behind you catches your attention.

You pick up the box you just emptied and walk toward the storage area to get the drinks to restock.

You go back inside, humming a song with a carefree expression on your face, heading toward the previously empty refrigerator.

You turn slightly when the bell rings again, noticing Tara engrossed in her phone and the woman gone.

You smile to yourself before returning your attention to your task.

You wanted to get this done as soon as possible without distractions so you could enjoy your weekend. Even though you didn't have any plans, the best thing you could do was stay locked in your place watching TV shows until late.

The place fell silent for a few minutes, with only your low humming heard, until that small bell rang again.

The silence was instantly interrupted by murmurs of happiness in the distance.

You listened briefly to the conversation, wondering if all the happiness was due to the fact that it was a friend of Tara's, as you took out some energy drinks.

"Hey y/n, look who's here." Tara's enthusiastic voice pulled you out of your thoughts, but you continued on with your own business, never taking your eyes off the drinks.

“What’s up?” Crouching down, you gesture with your hand, oblivious to what was happening, thinking it might be Mindy, who regularly passed by.

You hear laughter from the other corner and a mock clearly coming from Tara.

You add a few cans to the fridge, ignoring her words and managing to hear footsteps coming toward you.

You hum again, your attention fixed on the fridge.

The cool air hitting your face was refreshing and satisfying in the sweltering heat.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, along with the task at hand, that it took you a good couple of seconds to realize someone was standing next to you.

You turned around calmly, but upon seeing the person next to you, your heart raced, taking all your strength not to drop the can from your hands.

The basic skills of any human being faded from your system. You hadn’t expected Sam to be in the store, much less standing in front of you. Her expression was calm and stern.

From the close range, you managed to capture her slightly messy hair and her skin glistening with sweat, assuming she'd just worked out or left the gym.

Still, that didn't take away from how beautiful she looked.

The time it took you to examine her seemed like an eternity, internally cursing yourself as you felt your face heat up and simultaneously praying that she wouldn't notice your slight blush.

From the moment Sam entered your life, you had a small crush on her.

Tara had talked to you about her a couple of times before, even shown you pictures, but nothing compared to the time Sam arrived to pick Tara up from college.

When you first saw her get out of her car, her hair blowing in the wind. Watching her like a kid yearning from afar for something in a toy store.

From then on, you knew your life wasn't going to be so easy with her on your mind.

There had been times before where you'd run into each other by chance or because your connection was through knowing Tara, but it never went beyond a friendly greeting with a few exchanges.

Sometimes it could be a little awkward because you got so nervous around her, and Tara seemed to pick up on the tension between you two from all the times she teased you about her sister.

"Hi" you finally managed, a goofy smile tugging at your lips.

"Hi" she reciprocated in a soft, cheerful voice. Everything around you stopped the instant your gazes met.

The glances and smiles lasted longer than you expected. Honestly, you didn't know what else to do after that.

Sam felt the same way, but her face didn't change to discomfort or embarrassment. However, she moved her hand forward toward you.

At first, you didn't know what she wanted to do since her movements were hesitant, until you realized Sam wanted a drink from the refrigerator.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Embarrassed, scratching the back of your neck, you took a step back, then bumped into the open refrigerator door.

A blush spread across your face, hating yourself for acting so awkwardly in front of her.

It was always the same. Every time you tried to impress a girl, you ended up acting completely different from your normal self. And Sam was no exception to your clumsiness.

She simply chuckled and waited for you to walk away so she could get an energy drink. “Thank you.”

Her voice sent a chill through your body, making your heart beat faster. “You’re welcome.”

The words came out in a stuttering whisper as you were once again mesmerized by her brown eyes.

The two of you remained in a slightly awkward silence. Neither of you dared to move away or say a word; you just stared at each other with a hint of something neither of you could decipher.

Tara, who had been watching this whole scene from afar with regret and shame etched on her face, decided to interrupt. “Hey, Sam.” She waited for Sam to turn around before she could continue. “Y/n wants to ask you out, did you know that?”

Your breath stopped at that same instant as you broke out in a cold sweat upon hearing Tara’s words.

Your head swiveled sharply to look at Tara, who was wearing a wicked smile.

It never crossed your mind that she would do something like this, but this definitely caught you off guard, causing you to freeze completely, along with your stomach tightening in your abdomen.

Tara smiles triumphantly at seeing you in this state, knowing she had you in her grasp.

“I-…” You tried to excuse yourself, to say anything, but Sam was quicker, turning to you again with an anxious expression and genuine happiness.

“Oh, really?”

“I…” You’d never been in a bind like this before. You didn’t know what to do or say to dont make her feel bad. “I mean-”

“Yeah. That's what we were talking about this morning, wasn't it, Y/N?” Tara interrupts again, making Sam's smile grow at her.

Every time Tara opens her mouth, you think she's going to save you from this predicament, but she only makes it worse and worse, turning you into a nervous, clumsy mess.

You stutter for a moment, looking from Sam to Tara repeatedly, as if that would get you out of this dilemma.

“Yup, well…” you stuttered longer than you meant to, unsure of what to say next until Sam interrupts you with moderate excitement.

“Where do you want to take me?” she says mischievously, her interest piquing further with each of Tara's words to help you with the mess she started.

“To the club a few blocks from the subway,” Tara adds playfully, mockingly, before looking at you and continuing. “She’s really eager to take you there. Really.”

Sam seems more and more convinced about the idea of going out with you, which makes you even more nervous when you see her expression. “I heard it’s a good place.”

“Yeah, it is,” you smile, scratching the back of your neck, desperately trying to say something more. “We can go this afternoon… if you want, of course.”

You bite the inside of your cheek for speaking too quickly, thinking you’ve ruined everything with the way Sam stares at you without any response.

Finally, she nods in approval, and a genuine smile appears on her face as she reaches for her phone in her pockets.

“Here. Here’s my number so we can clarify the details further.”

She extends her hand toward you, her phone number flashing on the screen.

At first, you stare at it in bewilderment, not understanding what she’s doing until your mind clicks.

“Oh, yes,” you fumble in your clothing pockets to find your phone. You take it out and quickly write down her phone number.

She laughs and waits for you to do so before putting her phone back in the same place she had it before.

"Nos vemos" she says in a low, mischievous voice, then turns and leaves, not before saying goodbye to her sister.

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears, feeling like you could faint at any moment.

Your mind replayed what had just happened, unable to truly believe that you had a date with Sam.

She was already gone, but you were still trying to come back to earth as you held onto the fridge.

Little by little, Tara's laughter crept back into your ears.

"Why the fuck did you do all that?" You spat out in embarrassment and annoyance as your senses returned to normal.

She was almost out of breath, tears in her eyes from the fit of laughter at the situation she'd gotten you into.

You turned around and banged your forehead against the glass door of the refrigerator, waiting for Tara to finish teasing you and for your blush to fade.

Finally, she stopped laughing and spoke breathlessly, "No. I saved you from making a complete fool of yourself in front of her. You're welcome."

She was partly right, but you weren't going to admit it after how stupid and useless you'd acted because of Tara and her interventions.

You tapped the glass

with your forehead repeatedly, trying to gather your racing, anxious thoughts. "What am I going to do now?"

"Go on a date with my sister, maybe?"

You groan softly as you tap it once more, then press your forehead against the cold glass, knowing full well that she finds your condition amusing. “Did you see how I just acted? I look like a complete idiot in front of her. I won't even last five minutes before I ruin everything.”

Tara's expression softens at hearing you speak about yourself like that. She wanted to continue teasing you, but she took pity this time. “Relax, everything will be okay, don't worry.”

She waited for your reaction to her gentle words, but seeing that you weren't reacting the way she wanted, she decided to add, “You have a point in your favor. She likes you.”

Your heart pounded again. You turned around quickly to see any hint of a joke or a lie in her expression, but all you could see was sincerity. “Really?”

She smiled at you, hearing your yearning and decided to continue encouraging you. “Of course. She wouldn't have agreed if she didn't.”

A little confidence returned to you, hoping everything that happened later would be perfect.

You took out your phone with a glimmer of hope in your eyes as you saw Sam's profile on the screen. “I'll try not to screw this up.”

Hours passed, and as if in the blink of an eye, you were standing on the subway, staring at your nervous expression through the reflection of the doors.

After closing up shop a few hours earlier, you texted Sam to arrange a time and place where the two of you would meet.

When Sam finally answered, clearing things up, you immediately changed into something more comfortable and casual, but not too elegant to distinguish the fact that you were going to a club.

Your reflection vanished in an instant when the doors opened, allowing you to get off the train.

You walked with a knot in your stomach as you wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes until you reached the meeting point where the two of you had decided to meet.

Not seeing her anywhere, you decided to wait for some sign of her.

You straightened your clothes over and over again, hoping to look good for her, only to look up and find her walking toward you.

She shakes her hand, and you can't help but watch her every move.

"Shall we go?" Her sweet voice hits you, bringing you back to reality when she's close enough to you.

You shake your head slightly with an almost shy smile, "Let's go."

The night was cool and refreshing, with a silence that at first felt a bit awkward as you walked side by side.

Their arms occasionally brushed against each other, making you even more nervous than you already were, until Sam broke the silence by asking a couple of questions.

You sighed in relief at no longer being burdened by your racing thoughts and readily answered her little interrogation.

Gradually, you became less nervous as you spent more time with her.

Walking and talking with Sam, letting go more and more, you realized that longing for her from afar was a complete and total waste of time.

She's so sweet and so funny that every time she made you laugh with little jokes, you blushed, admiring her beauty at the same time.

If you weren't so shy and dumb, you could have enjoyed this a long time ago.

They continued walking and chatting for a bit longer before loud music and flashy lights caught both of their attention.

Despite being a few steps away from the club, you couldn't stop paying attention to the lights Sam had told you about earlier during your walk here.

“Damn, this is nice…” You say with a hint of admiration as you look at the enormous place. “I really like what they've done with the lights.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes and gently nudging you, thinking you were making fun of her for previously exaggerating about the venue's extravagant lights.

The thick air of the place hits them along with the loud music as they barely step foot inside.

In one corner, there was a group of people gathered at the bar, and another group of people dancing on the dance floor to their own beat.

“You might be right, this music's tight.” You look at her with complicity and amusement, having to raise your voice so she could hear you over all the noise.

You follow Sam through the crowd to explore the place a bit, watching her laugh again, making your heart beat faster. “I told you!”

None of them had been here before. You could say Sam knew the place better than you did, based on the experiences her friends told her.

You followed Sam, who walked deeper into the place, piquing both of your interest and curiosity with every step you took.

The fact that you hadn't said anything in a while, along with the music pounding your eardrums, made you feel even more nervous and restless.

You didn't want to ruin a beautiful evening that was starting off really well.

You felt the urge to say something, anything to calm down a little.

"Did I mention that you look great tonight?"

Sam stops and turns slightly, noticing a smile from something you couldn't quite understand on her face.

Their eyes meet, causing you to scratch the back of your neck and continue speaking quickly. "Because you do, you really—"

"Hey, relax," she interrupts, gently taking your hand in hers, noticing that you're back to being as nervous as you were at the beginning.

Behind all the noise, you managed to hear the softness of her voice, as if it were just the two of you in the vast space.

You sighed with relief, feeling calmer with the comfort of her words. “Yeah, alright.” She smiled at you, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. “I’m relaxed.”

You didn’t know how, but from one moment to the next, you were both dancing across from each other on the dance floor.

You watched with awe and amusement as Sam moved with grace and rhythm, her hips and arms swaying to the beat of the music.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she danced in front of you as you did the same.

Her body moved freely and passionately, creating an exciting spectacle.

Time seemed to stand still when you were with her.

The more you watched her eyes, her hair moving with every movement, her smile, a warm feeling welled up in your chest.

Despite all the hardships and self-sabotage you inflicted on yourself, you enjoyed being with her far more than you ever would with anyone else.

“Maybe you and I should hang out some more…” You say without giving your words a second thought. She looks at you skeptically when you begin to slow down, realizing what you’d said out loud.

“I’m such a dork, but I-” You apologize, a little embarrassed, but before you could ruin it again, she interrupts you, pulling you closer so you could hear her. “Let’s go get a drink.”

You were completely grateful to whatever it was that Sam interrupted you every time you messed up.

Her slightly agitated voice sent light shivers down your spine.

You tried to put that thought behind you, accepting and walking with her again to the bar, which wasn’t that far away. “Something sweet.”

Sam seemed to like your suggestion, nodding and looking at you knowingly, as if you were both connected. “You know me, a little cinnamon.”

You walked peacefully, interrupted only by the din of music and people, to the bar.

Upon reaching the small space, Sam silently gestured that she would get the drinks. You nodded, knowing she would bring the same thing for both of you.

You couldn’t help but watch her figure as she slowly walked away and disappeared from your sight a moment later.

You didn't believe in love at first sight, but after this date, you'd openly admit that you were completely in love with her.

You headed off to find a table so you and Sam could rest and be more comfortable after dancing earlier.

"yo, be more careful," you heard a familiar voice as you clumsily backed away and bumped into a table.

You turned around to find Mindy sitting there with a smile, a bit dazed from the alcohol, you assumed, and a drink in her hand.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" You looked at her in amusement as you reached out to shake her hand in a friendly gesture.

Mindy laughs, squeezing your hand, then lets go and takes a sip before answering. “I came with my girl to have a good time,” she says playfully before turning her head from side to side as if she's looking for someone. “But apparently she went to get more alcohol or something.”

You laugh, thinking that her girlfriend, Anika, and Sam might be meet at the bar, but you didn't want to bring it up yet.

Mindy was a fun and witty person. You met her through Tara a while ago and immediately liked her personality.

You and her don't hang out much, but when the opportunity arises, you talk for hours on end.

She looks at you, sizing you up and down inquisitively.

“So what are you doing here? I don't think you came alone,” she says curiously, raising an eyebrow.

You just laugh and roll your eyes, sitting in the seat across from Mindy while her girlfriend was gone. “Well…” you stammered, not wanting to say who you came with, but knowing you would have to say it eventually. “Yes. I came with someone.”

“So? Who’s the lucky one?”

You ran your fingers along the edge of the table briefly, not wanting to brag, but the way you smiled let Mindy know she was someone special to you. “I came with Sam.”

Her jaw almost dropped at the information.

She didn’t think you’d ever be able to hang out with Sam, which took her by surprise. “No way… really?”

You nodded, blushing slightly at her slightly drunken and exaggerated expression. “Yup.”

She took a deep sip of her drink, which you didn’t know what it was, to process it properly. “I never thought it was possible. Congratulations.”

You continued to play with the edge of the table, your smile lingering. “Thank you, I guess?”

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “No. I mean it. Congratulations.”

Your expression softened at her supportive words, even though you clearly thought this was impossible. But thankfully, it happened.

“Ever since Tara told me you were madly in love with her sister, I never thought you could date her…”

Your eyes widened, your blush deepening at the exaggeration in her words. “I’m not—” You tried to interrupt her to clarify that you’d only had a minor, non-obsessive crush for some time now, but she wasn’t listening.

“After all these years.”

You smiled warmly at her constant exaggeration, appreciating the sincerity beneath all the alcohol in her system.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude, Mindy stopped a waitress who was passing by, taking two shots, which, judging by the color, were probably tequila.

She placed one in front of you while extending her hand with the other tequila, wanting to make a toast. “To finally getting Samantha.”

You grabbed the tequila, laughing at all this before raising your hand and clinking the small glasses together.

“Cheers!” You said in unison and then drank.

Between laughter and the bitter taste of the drink going down your throat, Sam arrived with two glasses in each hand.

Your body temperature rose again when you saw her, slightly disheveled, placing the glass on the table.

A completely silly smile appeared on your face, but Sam didn't notice it as she greeted Mindy.

She stayed by your side the whole time, watching as she made small talk with Mindy while you sipped.

The pleasant atmosphere didn't last long when a guy arrived at the table out of nowhere, standing right behind Sam. "Hey, you!"

His arrogantly smug voice would almost irritate you if it weren't for the fact that Sam turned around reluctantly, knowing full well that she was being spoken to.

"Who?" The expression of disinterest when talking to him was very noticeable.

"You!"

"Who, me?"

Sam pretended not to understand, responding sharply to the other guy. Deep down, she knew what would happen if she continued talking to him, and she didn't want to.

"You wanna dance?"

She continued her arrogant little game, avoiding contact with him as much as possible.

The guy seemed like a hateful person, and if she could, she would tell him so. "Nah, man."

The guy simply laughed at his defeat, taking a step back and stopping his insistence, understanding that Sam was absolutely against being with him. “Okay, I took my chance.”

Watching the small conversation between the two of them from the silence, you somehow felt bad for the poor guy who was immediately rejected by Sam, even though you could tell she had the same feelings for him.

“It’s cool, it’s cool… hey if you want to.”

You absolutely didn't want Sam to go with someone else. It was your date with her, and you wanted to spend the rest of it with her, but your mouth betrayed you as always.

She looks at you expectantly, surprised that you'd let her be with some random on her own on a night that should have been between you two.

Her smile, once one of happiness, vanished completely from her face.

"You don't mind?" You recognized that look of anger and betrayal anywhere, even though it was the first time you'd seen it on her.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wanting to avoid any eye contact from her, but her eyes bore deeply into you.

You swallow hard, holding your breath as you feel Sam's irritated gaze and the other guy's triumphant one. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

She stares at you for a while longer, waiting for you to say something to fix the mess you just made, but nothing comes out.

You watch as she walks away, heading for the dance floor with someone other than you.

When she's completely out of your sight, you breathe normally again.

Your mind spins with flashbacks of how stupid you just were, along with Sam's cold stare.

You grab the glass Sam had brought for the two of you to share and take a deep sip, scrunching your face.

Mindy, who was completely oblivious to what was happening at the table, sees Sam leave with someone else, surprising her more than you expected. "Who's Sam talking to?"

"Some dude..." you say listlessly, sprawled across the table as you watch the alcohol swirl as the glass rolls in your hands.

She raises her eyebrows as her drunken mind connects the dots of something she didn't fully witness. “That’s messed up, she’s trying to make you jealous.”

You raise your head from your spite and look at her as if you were talking to someone completely sane.

Was Sam trying to make you jealous? Why would she do that?

That’s why Sam immediately left with him without objecting or mentioning that you and her were together in the first place. You think about your naiveté.

“Jealous? I ain’t jealous, I can take this fella, whatever.”

It was clear you couldn’t.

The minutes passed, and you were already tired of being the third wheel between Mindy and Anika

You kept glancing at the dance floor in case you could spot Sam anywhere. But there was no sign of her.

You were starting to worry, but deep down, you knew she could handle any idiot who crossed her path.

You felt bad for letting her go dancing with a stranger.

You just wanted to be with her, but you'd already ruined that.

You sighed heavily, banging your head against the table, making a small noise that no one heard.

Turning your head, raising your gaze after a brief moment of cursing yourself, you saw a head of red hair that was easily recognizable anywhere.

If Sam wanted to make you jealous, you can make it happen too. You told yourself, remembering Mindy's drunken words.

Probably the effects of the alcohol were also starting to kick in, which is why you were working up the nerve to go talk to Quinn, who was selflessly chatting with a guy.

Ever since you've known Quinn, she's always flirted with you, making double entendre, or complimenting you on everything.

You just avoid her, dodging her constant suggestives by pretending not to understand.

You knew she had a bad reputation for hooking up with anyone who caught her eye, and to your misfortune, you had caught hers.

But that didn't matter at this point; you just wanted to piss Sam off a little.

The boy immediately gets up from his seat, leaving Quinn alone and relieved for a moment until her eyes sparkle with desire as she sees you approaching.

"Hey..." Quinn says slyly as you sit across from her, where the other boy had previously been.

You don't want to have a social interaction with her, much less end up in a situation you'd regret later. So you interrupt her, starting to speak rapidly.

“Look, I know you do this with everyone, and the truth is, I'm not interested in you. I just want to make someone jealous, and you probably don't give a fuck about that, but this will be the closest thing to having my full attention. So let's go to the bar or something to satisfy your self-absorbed facade once and for all.”

She remains silent for a few seconds, staring at you with amusement, as if she were holding back a laugh.

This awkward silence, coupled with her intense gaze, made your hair stand on end. But she finally responds with a curt nod

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Before grabbing your wrist, forcing you to abruptly get up to go to the bar.

Between her leading you to take another drink and the increasing number of people, it made your curiosity and concern for Sam grow.

You looked everywhere for her, but there was no sign of her dancing with anyone or drinking.

Your concentration shifted elsewhere as Quinn flirtatiously asked the bartender for drinks.

Being with her felt like a punishment.

You just nodded or fake laughed whenever she spoke or said something supposedly funny.

Every now and then you looked up to see if Sam was around, but you were already considering the idea that she was gone.

Sadly, you continued your performance in front of Quinn, taking a big sip of something you weren't used to drinking.

Just as you were losing all hope, you saw Sam alone in the distance, heading through the door they'd entered a few hours ago.

You apologize to Quinn before hastily getting up to follow Sam.

Your heart was pounding as you pushed through the crush of people.

You'd made a huge difference with her today, and the thought of losing her in an instant was more suffocating than when you'd tried to talk to Sam this morning.

"Sam! Hold on, hold on!" you shout from outside the club, seeing her in the distance.

She turns around irritably, and you put the hands on your knees to catch your breath from running.

You lift your head to meet her upset gaze. "Why are you leaving? I mean, we're having a good time, aren't we?" you say agitatedly.

Her eyes widen in disbelief.

“If having a good time means leaving me with an idiot so you can flirt with someone else, then yes. I had a great time.”

You gritted your teeth at the venom in her sarcasm.

You felt a little happy that your plan to make her jealous with Quinn had worked, but this wasn't the time to celebrate.

You fell silent for a moment, considering your next words.

“I- I wasn't flirting with anyone…” You admit, your tone lower as you regain your composure. Sam notices your meek behavior, softening her features just a bit. “I was just hanging out with someone else because I thought you were having fun with another one.”

“Of course I wasn't having fun with him!” “I came here to be with you, ¡no con un completo idiota!” she yells again, but this time she takes a few steps toward you. Seeing this, you do the same.

“Look. I'm sorry, okay?” Your words are more confident now as you move forward, staring at her with determination. “When you're around me, I act like a fool, and I admit it.”

Sam was perplexed by your confession. She'd noticed your behavior, but didn't believe you'd admit it so openly.

She quickly examined you without moving from her spot.

There was still a wide gap between you, giving you the confidence to clarify your feelings.

"I never know what to do or say when you talk to me or look at me. I become a total mess and you know it."

She avoids smiling to maintain her angry facade; instead, she just nods.

You were no longer embarrassed or anxious. You'd spent so much time with Sam that you'd grown accustomed to her intense but pleasant gaze.

"Even Tara had to help me ask you out when I wasn't even thinking about it right now."

You both laughed at the memory of what had happened, unaware that Sam was laughing and taking a few steps forward.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, with the constant fear that Sam wouldn't want to see you ever again.

"And yes, I know that I screw up by not intervening when the guy came over and flirted with you, and I feel bad about it.”

The brief silence that fills the space is almost deafening.

There's no more music, no more loud people; it's just you and her, along with the constant pounding of your heart in your ears as you stare directly into her beautiful brown eyes.

“I had a great time tonight, and I just want you to forgive me—” Her soft lips capture yours, forcing you to stop talking.

You hadn't realized she was so close to you, the kiss taking you by surprise.

When your mind finally clicked, you melted in that instant, parting your lips and allowing her tongue to slide past.

You raised your hands, not knowing where to put them.

Sam noticed this and guided one of them to her lower back, making you gasp against her.

You were always curious to know what it was like to feel Sam so close to you, and you couldn't believe this was finally happening.

The kiss slowly grew more intense, heating your bodies more and more.

You had to admit that the way she gently tugged at your hair with her hand tangled in it drove you crazy, but not now.

The lack of air ruined the moment, and you reluctantly pulled away so you could catch it.

She looked at you panting with her eyes half-closed, while you stood with your gaze wide open, shocked by all of this.

"Yes... I forgive you."

At first, you couldn't understand what she meant, but slowly your mind came out of the lustful haze. "Right."

She rolled her eyes before leaning closer to you and laughing, resting her forehead against your shoulder.

You were still coming down from the intensity of things, so you simply placed a hand on the back of her head, completely distracted and out of it.

She breathed deeply, feeling her body press against yours.

She moved away slightly to take your hand in hers and resume her walk. "Let's go."

You intertwined your fingers as she did so as you began walking.

The peace and tranquility of your mind was interrupted when you turned to look at the club, which was now further away than you thought. "I thought we'd go inside again."

She nodded with feigned reasoning, then gave you a quick, playful glance. "Yeah, well, I'd rather finish this at my place."

The mischievous way she said it made you not doubt her other intentions at all, causing a smile to spread across your face due to the shiver she gave you. "Alright”

[fluffydeoxys]

thoughts on my hank design and how it's changed since my first attempt ~3 months ago, under da cut.

There are kind of two main aspects to Hank. There's a big, hulking and monstrous quality, paired with a swift litheness that's still important to encapsulate. Hank is powerful, but he's not slow. As demonstrated quite clearly in the animations, he's forceful and acrobatic. There are some ninja elements to his Consternation design, but he's not the skinny, nimble type.

Thus, while he does lean quite heavily into heavy muscle girth, I am happy with the balance I think I've achieved. I think a lot of this is achieved by making the tassels free-flowing and weightless, in tandem with the open bottom half of his coat.

This was an interesting thing to toss up between: open or closed coat? In addition to this, flat or popped collar? In the end I chose an open coat and a downturned collar for a few reasons.

For the open coat, firstly, it let me showcase the belts and harnesses on his legs properly, which I'll touch on later. It also allowed me to give the coat some room to flow and flap out, which is in direct contrast to Zero, albeit she can lean more into this with her full cloak. It also comes across as more 'open', like Hank welcomes challenges and danger. Coats can be quite effective in conveying mysterious, closed-off characters, but in this case, it's helping them come across as mysterious and dangerous. Capable.

I think I may still draw a more closed coat from time to time, especially for simple stylisations or when drawing Hank as a little creature. But who knows, maybe the more sensible belt structure in the middle might make it easier to simplify it.

I went with a flat, downturned collar because Zero already had a distinct, flared collar that hid her face. While an upturned collar would just emphasise Hank's head and create some dramatic angles, I like it being more in line with its shoulders. I described in a previous post about how I depict/think about design elements of Hank about how I think lowered but broad shoulders convey this particular kind of "relaxed". Not chill and comfortable, but merely waiting. His surroundings aren't that important, but when they are, you can see his alertness. Unsettling, I would imagine.

Giving the belts a more sensible structure was the main motivator for doing this (+well. improving artistically since then, I s'pose), and I am quite pleased with it. This time, I focused on the idea of "restraint" in tandem with "preparedness", which a harness perfectly encapsulates. Hank's restraints are sort of... figurative. It can be willed and pulled and tugged by the Machine, by a power on high. Tugged about by the narrative. It is restrained by its body, held back from true destruction.

The clothes are tight, conforming, applying pressure. Focus, assuredness, prepared for slaughter. They serve a single purpose: death, and with no real interest in being protected. It wants to hurt, to feel something, and to do the same to others. There is more 'protection' in the torso at least (and it looks quite sturdy and hefty itself) so Hank isn't a complete sitting duck dumbass, though. I also quite like how there's barely any skin showing, just the tiny slit of forehead and half of their fingers.

It illustrates a pretty interesting comparison between Zero and Hank. Zero is a little more dressed down but not anywhere near casual. Gives off a sort of 'retired' energy, which is intentional. A passive, wandering force. Whereas Hank is like a storm rolling in, active and hunting. He has a very strong and intentional hunter-like quality.

The skull kneeguards were a very random addition, but I think it's adorable honestly. I love adding little cute qualities (when appropriate), another one of these things being the Antipathy design on his coat pocket. It's subtle and you can only really spot it when you're looking closely, so it doesn't ruin the overall cohesion or intimidating factor.

The choice for the underside of his coat being a red gradient was to have some visual variety and interest, but it is also an intentional parallel to the Other Place, or at the very least, the red-black gradient of Nevada's sky nowadays. The way it is worn and tattered is a direct mirror of Zero.

I've become quite fond of Hank with black nails; I think they contrast nicely with fingerless gloves and how pale their skin is. But I'm a huge fan of claws, and now 2BD also has them too (though this is just in the gloves) alongside Zero, so I kept my original idea of retractable claws, but now I have them retract into black nails.

I felt it was a cute, intimate detail that Hank has a holster on his leg specifically for Zero's knife. It's a piece of her that she willingly lends him from time to time, and Hank, who normally doesn't care about 99% of things that walk this earth, has a spot on his body for that weapon. And that Zero would willingly surrender a tool to him when, realistically, he doesn't actually need it. Little things like this showcase their "closeness" quite aptly, I feel.

Hank is much more heavily scarred than Zero because while both of them have fought for lifetimes, Zero's journey primarily happened a long time ago, in the infinite spiral of the loop. Her scars are old, pale and weathered. Theoretically, they are as many as Hank, but her present body isn't displaying every injury in every lifetime. Meanwhile, Hank is in the present, actively fighting, tearing through others and being torn apart. Its scars are fresher, and it is stitched together more often. It's scarred down even to the very fingers.

"Crush, Destroy, Kill" being on the back of Hank's neck was just a fun, random idea I had. I don't imagine he got it tattooed; rather, it appeared one day when Hank was revived. I like to think these principles, this 'motto', is literally etched into their skin.

I liked how the metals of Hank turned out more bronze, whereas Zero is silver. I don't think it has any particular meaning, but it just looked interesting. Though speaking of, I liked making Hank's metal jaw quite square, with the little two fangs on it. I also like depictions where the metal has a full row of teeth (and I may draw it like that on occasion myself), but it looks nice and sturdy and square like this. Also helped by the heavy metal texturing. Looks like a weapon all on its own LOL

A much more minor thing, but the proportions have also contributed considerably to a better depiction of Hank, in my eyes. His shoulders are broader, and his head isn't as high above them - personally, I think he's almost always slouching, even if only mildly at the neck. They just don't care about 95% of 'presentation' besides this very specific idea that Hank likes. His arms are nice and large, and I think they look much better with this sturdy, stocky muscle and body silhouette compared to my first, older version. Also their goggles aren't so dang big. Funnily I struggle a lot with drawing Hank's face with the correct proportions, but I am getting better.

And here they are, all together with their proper height scales now! There's a less obvious size difference between Hank and Zero now, which I am very happy with. Their shapes are more distinct, as well as their body types and silhouettes being much more distinguishable. I would probably redo Zero's pose to better reflect her personality but there are other things I want to work on, and I mainly prioritised that pose as being a clear reference.

i like hank with big tongue sory