#custom speaker box

[customspeakerstands]

OPEN RESELLER! (WA) 0851-7988-9353 Sound System Hadroh Elsound Audio di Kebunjayanti Bandung Bandung

Speaker Karaoke Rumahan Terbaik: Pilihan Terbaik untuk Hiburan Rumah Anda

Di zaman yang serba canggih ini, karaoke tidak lagi hanya untuk tempat hiburan komersial atau bar karaoke. Kini, banyak orang yang ingin membawa keseruan karaoke ke rumah mereka sendiri. Untuk itu, memilih speaker karaoke rumahan terbaik menjadi sangat penting untuk memastikan pengalaman karaoke yang memuaskan. Speaker yang tepat dapat menghadirkan kualitas suara yang jernih, bass yang kuat, dan kenyamanan yang maksimal, memberikan suasana hiburan yang seru layaknya di tempat karaoke profesional.

Dalam artikel ini, kita akan membahas berbagai pilihan speaker karaoke terbaik, termasuk berbagai ukuran seperti speaker karaoke 10 inch, speaker karaoke 12 inch, hingga speaker karaoke 15 inch. Kita juga akan mengulas berbagai tipe speaker yang dapat digunakan untuk karaoke, serta memberikan rekomendasi yang tepat berdasarkan kualitas dan harga. Untuk menjamin kualitas suara terbaik, tidak hanya speaker karaoke yang perlu dipertimbangkan, tetapi juga perangkat lain seperti speaker gaming terbaik 2025 dan speaker home theater murah yang juga memiliki kualitas audio luar biasa.

Speaker Karaoke 10 Inch, 12 Inch, dan 15 Inch: Ukuran yang Tepat untuk Berbagai Kebutuhan

Salah satu pertimbangan utama saat memilih speaker karaoke rumahan terbaik adalah ukuran speaker. Speaker karaoke datang dalam berbagai ukuran yang memengaruhi kualitas suara dan bass yang dihasilkan. Biasanya, ukuran speaker diukur berdasarkan diameter driver, dan semakin besar ukuran speaker, semakin besar pula kemampuannya menghasilkan suara dengan frekuensi rendah (bass).

Speaker Karaoke 10 Inch: Kompak dan Efisien

Speaker karaoke 10 inch adalah pilihan yang ideal untuk ruangan yang tidak terlalu besar. Dengan ukuran ini, speaker masih dapat menghasilkan kualitas suara yang jernih dan bass yang cukup kuat. Speaker dengan ukuran 10 inci cocok untuk karaoke rumahan yang tidak membutuhkan volume suara yang sangat besar, tetapi tetap ingin memberikan pengalaman karaoke yang menyenangkan.

Speaker Karaoke 12 Inch: Keseimbangan Suara yang Sempurna

Jika Anda mencari speaker yang memberikan keseimbangan antara suara bass yang cukup kuat dan kejernihan vokal, speaker karaoke 12 inch bisa menjadi pilihan yang sangat tepat. Ukuran ini memberikan kualitas suara yang lebih penuh tanpa mengorbankan keseimbangan antara frekuensi tinggi dan rendah. Speaker 12 inci sangat cocok untuk penggunaan di ruang tamu yang cukup luas dan memiliki kapasitas suara yang cukup besar tanpa menambah kebisingan berlebih.

Speaker Karaoke 15 Inch: Power dan Kekuatan Suara yang Maksimal

Untuk pengalaman karaoke yang lebih kuat dan bertenaga, speaker karaoke 15 inch adalah pilihan yang tepat. Dengan ukuran driver yang besar, speaker ini dapat menghasilkan suara dengan bass yang lebih dalam dan volume yang lebih tinggi. Speaker karaoke 15 inci sangat cocok untuk ruangan besar atau acara karaoke yang melibatkan banyak orang. Jika Anda ingin menghadirkan pengalaman karaoke seperti di tempat hiburan profesional, maka speaker ini adalah pilihan yang wajib dipertimbangkan.

Speaker Elsound: Pilihan Terbaik untuk Karaoke Rumahan

Salah satu brand yang menawarkan kualitas suara terbaik untuk karaoke rumahan adalah Speaker Elsound. Dikenal dengan desain yang stylish dan kualitas audio yang jernih, Speaker Elsound merupakan pilihan populer bagi mereka yang mencari speaker karaoke dengan kualitas premium. Speaker ini dilengkapi dengan berbagai fitur canggih yang memudahkan Anda untuk menghubungkan perangkat lain, seperti Bluetooth, port USB, dan banyak lagi. Speaker Elsound juga menawarkan berbagai ukuran driver, mulai dari 10 inci hingga 15 inci, yang memungkinkan Anda memilih produk yang sesuai dengan kebutuhan dan ruang yang ada.

Dengan kemampuan untuk menghasilkan suara yang keras dan jelas, Speaker Elsound tidak hanya ideal untuk karaoke, tetapi juga sangat cocok digunakan untuk acara rumah lainnya seperti pesta atau acara kecil lainnya. Dengan harga yang kompetitif, Elsound menjadi salah satu pilihan terbaik bagi penggemar karaoke yang menginginkan kualitas audio terbaik di rumah.

Speaker Gaming Terbaik 2025: Pilihan Terbaik untuk Hiburan di Rumah

Selain untuk karaoke, speaker gaming juga sangat penting untuk pengalaman hiburan yang luar biasa. Speaker gaming terbaik 2025 mengutamakan kualitas suara surround yang sangat baik dan bass yang kuat, memberikan pengalaman audio yang imersif. Meskipun lebih sering digunakan untuk bermain game, speaker gaming juga dapat berfungsi ganda sebagai speaker karaoke yang hebat.

Dengan kualitas suara yang luar biasa, speaker gaming terbaik tidak hanya cocok untuk game, tetapi juga ideal untuk digunakan dalam karaoke. Speaker gaming menawarkan suara yang jernih, detail, dan bass yang bertenaga, menciptakan suasana yang menyenangkan di ruangan karaoke Anda. Jika Anda mencari speaker yang dapat digunakan untuk gaming sekaligus karaoke, pilihan speaker gaming terbaik 2025 adalah investasi yang layak.

Speaker Home Theater Murah: Menyempurnakan Suara Hiburan di Rumah

Untuk menciptakan pengalaman hiburan yang lebih lengkap di rumah, speaker home theater murah adalah pilihan yang patut dipertimbangkan. Speaker home theater dirancang untuk memberikan kualitas suara surround yang luar biasa, cocok digunakan tidak hanya untuk menonton film, tetapi juga untuk karaoke. Dengan menggunakan speaker home theater, Anda bisa menikmati kualitas suara yang lebih hidup dan detail, membuat setiap lagu yang Anda nyanyikan lebih terasa mendalam.

Speaker home theater murah saat ini sudah menawarkan kualitas suara yang tidak kalah dengan speaker premium. Berbagai produk speaker home theater murah memiliki fitur-fitur canggih seperti suara surround 5.1 atau 7.1, port HDMI, dan kompatibilitas dengan berbagai perangkat. Jika Anda mencari solusi suara untuk hiburan di rumah, speaker home theater murah bisa menjadi pilihan yang sangat baik.

FAQ Seputar Speaker Karaoke Rumahan

Bagaimana cara memperbaiki speaker aktif yang suaranya pecah?

Jika speaker aktif Anda suaranya pecah, pertama pastikan bahwa volume tidak terlalu tinggi, karena bisa menyebabkan distorsi. Periksa juga kabel dan koneksi untuk memastikan tidak ada kabel yang rusak atau longgar. Jika masalah tetap terjadi, kemungkinan ada masalah dengan komponen internal seperti driver atau amplifier. Sebaiknya bawa speaker ke teknisi profesional untuk perbaikan lebih lanjut.

Apa yang dimaksud dengan THD pada speaker aktif?

THD (Total Harmonic Distortion) adalah ukuran seberapa banyak distorsi harmonik yang dihasilkan oleh speaker. Semakin rendah nilai THD, semakin baik kualitas suara speaker tersebut. Speaker dengan THD rendah cenderung menghasilkan suara yang lebih jernih dan alami, tanpa adanya gangguan distorsi yang mengganggu.

Bagaimana cara menghubungkan speaker aktif ke perangkat game console?

Untuk menghubungkan speaker aktif ke perangkat game console seperti PlayStation atau Xbox, Anda dapat menggunakan kabel audio atau koneksi Bluetooth, tergantung pada fitur yang tersedia pada speaker dan konsol. Pastikan speaker aktif mendukung input yang sesuai dengan perangkat game Anda, seperti output HDMI atau RCA. Jika speaker mendukung koneksi Bluetooth, Anda hanya perlu memasangkan kedua perangkat.

Apakah speaker aktif bisa digunakan sebagai PA system?

Speaker aktif dapat digunakan sebagai PA (Public Address) system, asalkan speaker tersebut memiliki daya output yang cukup besar untuk memenuhi kebutuhan suara dalam acara besar. Speaker aktif biasanya dilengkapi dengan amplifier internal, sehingga dapat langsung digunakan untuk berbagai keperluan, termasuk untuk mengisi ruang besar dalam sebuah acara.

Bagaimana cara memilih speaker aktif untuk musik live?

Saat memilih speaker aktif untuk musik live, pastikan speaker memiliki daya output yang tinggi dan mampu menghasilkan suara yang jernih pada volume tinggi. Pilih speaker dengan kemampuan handling bass yang baik, terutama jika musik yang dimainkan melibatkan frekuensi rendah. Selain itu, pertimbangkan ukuran dan portabilitas speaker, terutama jika sering digunakan untuk acara outdoor.

Kesimpulan

Memilih speaker karaoke rumahan terbaik memang tidak mudah, tetapi dengan mempertimbangkan berbagai faktor seperti ukuran, kualitas suara, dan fitur tambahan, Anda bisa menemukan pilihan yang tepat. Speaker seperti Speaker Elsound, speaker gaming terbaik 2025, dan speaker home theater murah dapat memberikan kualitas suara yang luar biasa, baik untuk karaoke maupun hiburan lainnya. Jangan lupa untuk menyesuaikan pilihan speaker dengan ukuran ruangan dan kebutuhan suara Anda, agar pengalaman karaoke di rumah menjadi lebih menyenangkan dan memuaskan.

Kontak dan Pemesanan Hubungi 0851-7988-9353 ELSOUND AUDIO adalah produsen speaker no.1 di Indonesia. Produk asli Indonesia ini menyediakan berbagai jenis speaker dan komponen speaker seperti: speaker driver, speaker aktif, speaker pasif, power amplifier, audio mixer, tweeter, hingga microphone. Elsound Speaker dan Cipta Suara (main distributor AudioBulls produksi Elsound) siap melayani berbagai kebutuhan audio anda dengan harga terjangkau. speaker gaming terbaik 2025,speaker home theater murah,speaker karaoke 10 inch,speaker karaoke 12 inch,speaker karaoke 15 inch

Kontak dan Pemesanan Hubungi

0851-7988-9353 https://wa.me/6285179889353

Klik link berikut untuk informasi lebih lanjut : https://linktr.ee/elsoundspeakers

[speakerdriverparts]

(WA) 0851-7988-9353 Mini Subwoofer Mobil Elsound Audio di Neglasari Bandung

Kontak dan Pemesanan Hubungi 0851-7988-9353 |Pertama kali diluncurkan pada tahun 2002, Speaker driver Elsound® dikenal luas oleh pecinta audio sebagai produk "murah-meriah-selamat". Menghadirkan kualitas mumpuni dengan harga terjangkau dan jaminan bahwa seluruh produk Elsound® memiliki daya tahan yang terbukti dan teruji sangat baik. speaker murah ngebass,speaker murah terbaik 2024,speaker murah 18 inch,speaker murah dan bagus,speaker murah kecil

Kontak dan Pemesanan Hubungi

0851-7988-9353 https://wa.me/6285179889353

Klik link berikut untuk informasi lebih lanjut : https://linktr.ee/elsoundspeakers

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Mini Subwoofer Mobil: Solusi Cerdas untuk Suara yang Menggelegar

Ketika datang ke audio mobil, salah satu elemen yang sering diabaikan adalah subwoofer. Namun, subwoofer adalah kunci untuk mendapatkan pengalaman mendengarkan yang penuh, terutama jika Anda penggemar musik ngebass. Dalam artikel ini, kita akan membahas mini subwoofer mobil, termasuk rekomendasi terbaik, kelebihan, dan tips memilih speaker murah yang ngebass. Mari kita eksplorasi dunia mini subwoofer!

1. Mengapa Memilih Mini Subwoofer Mobil?

Mini subwoofer mobil adalah pilihan ideal bagi mereka yang ingin meningkatkan kualitas suara tanpa mengorbankan ruang di dalam kendaraan. Mini subwoofer memberikan suara bass yang dalam dan kaya, memperkaya pengalaman mendengarkan musik Anda. Dengan desain yang kompak, mereka dapat dengan mudah dipasang di tempat-tempat yang terbatas, seperti di bawah kursi atau di bagasi.

Bagi Anda yang mencari speaker murah dan bagus, mini subwoofer menawarkan performa yang sangat baik untuk ukuran dan harganya. Mari kita lihat beberapa keuntungan memilih mini subwoofer:

Kualitas Suara yang Lebih Baik: Mini subwoofer mampu menghasilkan suara bass yang lebih dalam dan jernih, menjadikan musik Anda lebih hidup.

Desain Kompak: Ukurannya yang kecil membuatnya mudah dipasang di berbagai tempat dalam mobil tanpa memakan banyak ruang.

Harga Terjangkau: Banyak pilihan mini subwoofer yang tersedia dengan harga terjangkau, membuatnya cocok bagi yang mencari speaker murah terbaik 2024.

2. Rekomendasi Mini Subwoofer Mobil Terbaik

Sekarang, mari kita bahas beberapa mini subwoofer terbaik yang bisa Anda pertimbangkan:

1. Pioneer TS-WX130DA

Pioneer TS-WX130DA adalah pilihan yang sangat baik bagi mereka yang ingin suara bass yang mendalam tanpa mengorbankan ruang. Dengan daya maksimum 1600W dan desain yang kompak, subwoofer ini sangat mudah dipasang di bawah kursi. Suaranya yang jernih dan penuh menjadikannya salah satu speaker murah ngebass yang populer.

2. Rockford Fosgate P300-12

Walaupun sedikit lebih besar, Rockford Fosgate P300-12 tetap merupakan pilihan mini yang solid. Dengan driver 12 inci, subwoofer ini memberikan performa bass yang luar biasa. Kualitas suaranya menjadikannya salah satu speaker murah terbaik 2024 yang sangat direkomendasikan untuk pecinta musik.

3. JBL BassPro SL

JBL dikenal dengan produk audio berkualitas tinggi, dan BassPro SL adalah contoh yang sempurna. Subwoofer ini dirancang untuk memberi suara bass yang dalam dalam bentuk yang kompak. Anda bisa menemukan speaker murah kecil ini di berbagai marketplace dengan harga bersahabat.

3. Tips Memilih Mini Subwoofer

Saat memilih mini subwoofer, ada beberapa hal yang perlu Anda pertimbangkan:

1. Ukuran dan Daya

Pastikan untuk memperhatikan ukuran dan daya dari subwoofer yang Anda pilih. Mini subwoofer biasanya tersedia dalam berbagai ukuran, mulai dari 8 inci hingga 12 inci. Pilih yang sesuai dengan ruang yang Anda miliki di mobil.

2. Jenis Driver

Ketahui jenis driver yang digunakan. Driver yang baik akan mempengaruhi kualitas suara yang dihasilkan. Pastikan untuk memilih subwoofer dengan driver yang berkualitas untuk hasil yang maksimal.

3. Budget

Selalu sesuaikan pilihan Anda dengan budget yang ada. Ada banyak pilihan speaker murah dan bagus di pasaran, sehingga Anda tidak perlu mengeluarkan uang lebih untuk mendapatkan kualitas yang baik.

FAQ

Apa itu line array speaker driver?

Line array speaker driver adalah sistem speaker yang terdiri dari beberapa driver yang dipasang dalam baris vertikal. Sistem ini dirancang untuk menghasilkan suara yang merata di area yang luas, biasanya digunakan dalam konser dan acara besar.

Bagaimana cara kerja line array speaker driver?

Line array bekerja dengan memanfaatkan prinsip gelombang suara. Ketika suara diproduksi, gelombang tersebut akan diarahkan oleh susunan driver, menciptakan pola penyebaran suara yang merata. Ini mengurangi masalah akustik yang sering terjadi dalam ruang besar, sehingga suara terdengar lebih konsisten di seluruh area.

Apa itu dipole speaker driver?

Dipole speaker driver adalah jenis speaker yang memproduksi suara dari kedua sisi, menghasilkan gelombang suara yang seimbang. Ini biasanya digunakan dalam sistem home theater untuk memberikan pengalaman mendengarkan yang lebih immersif.

Kesimpulan

Mini subwoofer mobil adalah solusi cerdas untuk meningkatkan pengalaman mendengarkan Anda di mobil. Dengan berbagai pilihan di pasar, Anda bisa menemukan mini subwoofer yang cocok dengan kebutuhan dan budget Anda. Dari Pioneer hingga JBL, banyak merk menawarkan produk berkualitas yang patut dipertimbangkan.

Ingatlah untuk selalu memilih mini subwoofer yang sesuai dengan ruang yang Anda miliki dan jangan ragu untuk mengeksplorasi berbagai pilihan. Selamat berbelanja, dan nikmati pengalaman mendengarkan yang lebih kaya dan penuh dengan suara bass yang menggugah!

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[primitiveaudio]

Primitive Audio

Website: https://www.primitiveaudio.com/

Address: USA

Primitive Audio specializes in crafting handmade, aesthetically pleasing speaker enclosures using exotic wood and high-fidelity (HIFI) audio components. With a passion for audio and meticulous design, the founder envisioned a blend of HIFI sound and exquisite woodwork to create unique, high-quality speaker solutions. Each enclosure houses a 2.5" full-range active driver, tuned through a DSP class D amplifier with Bluetooth 5.0, ensuring clean, efficient power and a flat frequency response. The speakers are portable, with each amplifier matched with a battery board to sustain power for extended listening times. All designs are handmade, utilizing the natural color of the wood, and finished with six layers of water-based polyurethane for durability and quality.

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[werevampiwolf]

I used to speak Spanish decently well, and I took Japanese 101 in college. These days, I can translate Spanish into English okay, but my brain refuses to work in the other direction... unless I'm trying to remember a word in Japanese.

Me: "what was the word for dog in Japanese again?"

My brain: "¡Perro!"

Me: "no."

My brain: "perro is dog."

Me: "that's Spanish. Why can't you do this when i ask you about Spanish?"

What they don’t tell you about speaking multiple languages is that your brain does not in fact have a box labeled Spanish and another one labeled German. Instead it has a box labeled “Not English” and sometimes when you’re talking or writing in one of the languages you speak it will just start pulling random words from that box.

[becertainlust]

BIRTHDAY SUIT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Bakugo never made a big deal about birthdays—just another day in his book. But you're not letting this one slide. As his partner, you know better than anyone that under that explosive exterior lies a man who deserves to be worshipped. And tonight, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Dressed in nothing but a gift-wrapped surprise, you give him a present no one else ever could—you.

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Bakugo never cared about birthdays. For once, he'd let you celebrate him.

No grumbles, no sarcastic muttering under his breath about “dumb-ass traditions” or “waste of time.” No disappearing off to train. No flinching when his friends shouted “Happy Birthday, Katsuki!”

He actually stayed. Enjoyed it.

The apartment had been buzzing earlier with close friends, laughter, drinks, and too many snacks. But now, it was just you and him. The glow of warm lights filled the room, soft music playing low from the speaker. The scent of buttercream and spiced candles lingered in the air.

“Sit,” you said, nudging him down onto the couch.

He dropped onto it with a tired, satisfied huff, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched you crouch beside the small stack of gifts left on the coffee table.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this, y’know,” he muttered. “Just havin’ you around is—”

“Shut up,” you smirked, passing him the first box. “You can get sappy after we’re done with presents.”

He rolled his eyes, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

One by one, he opened them. A couple of gag gifts from Kaminari, a surprisingly thoughtful book from Todoroki, custom gloves from Kirishima. A shirt from you he’d side-eyed in a store window a few weeks ago but pretended not to like. He’d mumbled, “Not bad,” when he saw it then—but the way he smiled when he saw it again tonight? That soft, flickering look in his eyes?

Yeah. He remembered.

But the last gift made him still.

He turned the box in his hand like he didn’t quite recognize it, even though you knew he did. You watched his fingers move slower—more careful. He lifted the lid and saw it:

A first edition, limited-run All Might training journal.

Something he’d mentioned in passing once during a midnight walk months ago. Something he said he always wanted but could never find. He stared at it in silence, thumb brushing over the embossed edges.

“…You remembered that?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter. His eyes lifted to yours.

You smiled gently. “Of course I did.”

Bakugo swallowed hard, cheeks warming up in a way that had your heart blooming in your chest. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “You know that?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “A little.”

He blinked hard, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright—cake. Let’s get this over with before I start feelin’ like a damn Hallmark card.”

You brought over the cake, candles already lit, your face glowing in the soft flicker as you sang the most off-key, dramatic “Happy Birthday” you could manage. He groaned, but he didn’t stop you.

He blew out the candles.

You sliced two pieces, handed him a fork… then stole it right back.

“Say ah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You really gonna hand feed me right now?”

“Our wedding reenactment,” you smiled, lifting a bite to his mouth.

He opened it, still scowling—but barely—as you fed him a chunk of cake. He chewed, crimson eyes on you the whole time.

“Good?” you asked.

He gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Yeah. sweet.”

"that so..."

You leaned in, swiped a little frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips looked so soft, gilding your frosted coated thumb onto them, then kissed it off his lips, pressing your own into the softness of his. It started soft.

But when your lips brushed his again—slow, and achingly warm, and just a little longer—his hands naturally found your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap. He kissed back, gentle but hungry, lips parting to taste more of you.

You murmured between kisses, breath hot against his mouth: “Birthday kiss.”

He blinked slowly, his lips still parted from the kiss, eyes dazed and focused only on you. His hands anchored warm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, thoughtless circles into your skin through the thin fabric. His gaze trailed over your face—your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes so full of mischief and adoration.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, almost like it slipped out without permission.

You kissed the tip of his nose, giggling softly. “Thank you.”

And then?

His hold tightened. Just slightly. And he pulled you into his lap.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice thick and low, “I’m gonna forget we were takin’ things slow tonight.”

You leaned in, straddling him without hesitation, your thighs hugging his hips as you settled against him. His body welcomed you instantly, his hands sliding up your sides, fingertips dragging the fabric of your top slightly—like he wanted less of it between you.

“I was never planning to go slow, birthday boy” you whispered, brushing your lips just barely against his jaw. “especially tonight.”

His breath caught—sharp, audible. You felt it in his chest, the way it stuttered under your palms. His reaction was subtle, but every part of him twitched with anticipation: his hands, his legs beneath you, the slight lift of his hips like he was already imagining how this night would end.

“Got one more present for you,” you murmured into his ear. “The real one.”

Bakugo’s brows lifted, suspicious. “Thought that damn journal was the real one.”

You grinned, climbing off his lap for just a moment—enough to walk toward the bedroom with that sway you knew drove him wild.

He watched, chin propped on his hand, eyes darkening the second your fingers dipped beneath the hem of your top as you disappeared down the hall.

“Oi,” he called. “What kinda present needs you to change for it?”

You didn’t answer.

But when you reappeared in the doorway—lingerie clinging to your curves like a second skin, chosen with him in mind—Bakugo sat up so fast he nearly knocked the fork off the coffee table.

Your name left his mouth like a groan.

“Holy shit…”

You were wrapped in delicate black lace, the kind of thing he never thought he’d see outside a magazine, and even then—never on you. Never just for him.

His mind blanked.

No words, no witty comeback. Just the shape of you silhouetted in the soft golden light. The way the sheer material clung to your curves, catching every dip and swell like it had been tailored with him in mind. The way your thighs moved when you walked, slow and sure, like you knew what that sight alone was doing to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

And still, he sat back—frozen on the couch, like his body had been rooted to the spot. Only his eyes moved, dragging over you with almost painful reverence.

Your presence wasn't just seen. It was felt. In the sudden hush of the room. In the way the air itself seemed to shift as you crossed it. There was a softness to it—like watching a flame flicker behind glass. Dangerous, but so goddamn beautiful.

Something in his chest ached.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you like this—wanting him like this. That wide-eyed, breath-stolen reaction always snuck up on him.

His gaze caught on your collarbones, then drifted lower—hesitating on the swell of your breasts barely veiled by lace, down the soft line of your stomach, until it settled between your legs, where the thin strip of fabric left far too little to the imagination.

The sight knocked the wind out of him.

One of his hands, resting uselessly on his thigh, curled into a fist. The other—he didn’t even realize—had wiped itself discreetly on his jeans, sweat clinging to his palm.

Not from nerves. No. Never that.

Except maybe this time, it was.

Because you were walking toward him now, hips rolling, eyes locked onto his, and he could feel his body respond before his brain had even caught up. His mouth parted. Breath shallowed.

God, the way you moved. Like you were pouring yourself into every step. Like you weren’t just walking to him—you were offering yourself.

It made his pulse stutter.

And when you climbed back into his lap, warm skin settling over the growing heat in his jeans, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. Your nails dragging against the nape of his neck in ghost trails feather-light, his body withered under the touch. Your perfume mingling with his senses what scent was that? and why cant he stop sniffing you.

"You smell really good baby...really good" his nose ghosted your neck, hips pulling you closer. Your thighs oh so soft to him, bracket him so warmly.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He just looked.

Admiration wasn’t something Bakugo handed out easily—not to friends, not to strangers, and definitely not out loud.

But he was looking at you now like you were everything. Like you were a dream made real. Like he didn’t know whether to kiss you, worship you, or fall to his knees for you.

He couldn’t stop drinking you in.

How had he gotten this lucky?

You kissed him again. Slowly, reverently. The kind of kiss that curled toes and short-circuited nerves. You would use a hand to pull him by the shirt, and when you pulled back just enough to murmur, “Happy birthday, Katsuki,” his lashes fluttered low, heat gathering in his face as he let the words sink in.

His breath hitched when your hands found his chest.

Just fingertips at first, dragging over the fabric of his shirt like you were memorizing him all over again. You didn’t rush—just let your palms glide across solid muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as your thumbs brushed the edge of his ribs.

He was already warm under your touch. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then another—lower, slower. Your lips parted against his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail that dipped down the curve of his neck. His skin twitched under each one, the breath in his lungs turning shallow, rough.

“who knew you’d do something like this,” he murmured, but the strain in his voice made it sound more like a will to give in than a tease.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing lightly before you sucked. Gently—just enough to make him feel it. And then again, lower. His hands tensed at your waist.

You tilted your head to kiss along the other side of his neck, scattering another series of soft hickies—like you were branding him in lace and affection.

A groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers slipped to the hem of his shirt. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even move.

He just watched you. Quiet. Obedient in a way only you got to see.

You peeled his shirt up, inch by inch, revealing the planes of his stomach—warm, lightly flushed, his abs tightening beneath your gaze. You kissed his chest slowly as you exposed it, lips brushing across firm muscle, leaving kisses that lingered just a little too long.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Not once.

Even as you sank further down, mouth worshipping the path beneath his sternum. Even as your nails lightly scratched up his sides, drawing out a low hiss from between his clenched teeth.

His body was buzzing now—caught between restraint and surrender.

And it was beautiful to watch him come undone like this. Strong and scarred and still, somehow, soft for you.

His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, one hand gripping your hip while the other fisted into the couch cushion. His thighs flexed beneath your hands.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word half breath, half plea.

You hummed softly, letting your lips hover just above his waistband.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, voice sultry and low, like you were letting him in on a secret. “All over.”

And he was.

Buzzing. Flushed. Waiting.

With his chest bare, his breathing ragged, and his eyes glassy with anticipation—he looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips hovered just above the waistband of his sweats, breath brushing against the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. The muscles in his abdomen tensed again.

And still—you didn’t touch him where he wanted you to. Not yet. Instead, you lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him as your mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smirk. There was power in the way he was watching you. Tension in the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath yours. Every inch of him buzzed. For you.

“Can I take these off Kats?” you asked, voice honey-slow.

Bakugo grunted, half-dazed. “… yeah.”

I mean what the hell were you asking him. If anything he just wanted on him immediately but it was all for you to watch him be a completely different person He sounded so obedient watching every moment like a patient puppy. His beautiful crimson eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

Your fingers dipped under the waistband and dragged it down slow. The fabric caught on the hardened outline of him, and he hissed through his teeth as you freed him from the restraint.

His cock sprang up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. His hips twitched upward involuntarily, like his body was pleading before his mouth could catch up.

You made a sound of appreciation in the back of your throat—soft, reverent—before leaning in to press another kiss, just above the base. Your tongue flicked out, tasting the warm skin there. "You want me this much suki"

His whole body shuddered.

“Y-you're really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he muttered, voice rough, but low with awe.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked up again, lips parted, pupils blown, hands pressing to his thighs to steady him—before licking a slow, flat stripe from the base to the tip.

Bakugo cursed under his breath, his hand flying to the back of your head on instinct—but it never pushed, never forced. Just tangled in your hair, holding on for dear life.

Your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and unforgiving.

And he melted.

His head tipped back, jaw slack, a ragged moan slipping past his lips. You sucked him down slow—sloppy and deep—letting your tongue trace every sensitive vein, letting your spit drip down over your hand as you worked the base.

He was a mess.

Every time you hollowed your cheeks and sank lower, his thighs tensed. His breath hitched. His hips jerked upward before he caught himself, groaning through clenched teeth.

"Fuck... baby… you—goddamn."

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, then sank down again, deeper this time.

And he twitched in your mouth, body locking up as you moaned around him.

The sound went straight to his spine—he was pulsing now, barely holding on.

When you pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to him in a string, you wiped your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, lips swollen, eyes hooded.

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, climbing back up into his lap. “Can I?”

Bakugo was panting. Eyes glassy. Completely undone.

He swallowed hard, leaning into your chest to whisper "Please.”

You hovered over him, your hair framing your face so bewitchingly. You lined him up with your entrance, already soaked and pulsing for him. And as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes rolled back and his hands grabbed your hips like he needed something to anchor him to this earth.

You moaned low as he stretched you open.

“Shit—so full,” you breathed, resting your palms on his chest.

“Look at me,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Wanna see your face.”

You did. And when your eyes met his—when he saw the way you looked at him, like he was the only one you ever wanted—his whole expression softened.

His hands caressed up your waist, slow, reverent.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You didn’t move right away.

Not really.

Instead, you hovered just above him, your entrance brushing the slick, sensitive head of his cock—barely letting him in, just enough to tease. Just enough to let him feel the heat of you. Your thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling in slow, agonizing circles that dragged your soaked folds over the tip again and again.

A soft, wet sound filled the space between you. Your juices clung to him, thick and sticky, smearing across his shaft with every grind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head thunking back against the couch. “You’re—fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You smirked, gaze flicking up to watch him.

And god… the way he looked right now? His chest rising with every ragged breath, his lip bitten raw, his knuckles white where he clutched your hips. Every muscle in his thighs was trembling beneath you. Twitching with the restraint it took not to thrust up and bury himself in you.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his while your hips stayed in motion—rocking slowly, teasing him with slick, hot friction.

“I thought this was your birthday,” you purred into his ear. “Shouldn’t I be giving you what you want?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, his jaw tight with tension.

“I do want this,” he growled. “You drivin’ me fuckin’ insane like this—teasin’ me—makin’ me feel like I’m gonna explode just from the tip—shit…”

You giggled, soft and wicked, and sat back just enough for him to watch.

One of your hands reached between you, guiding him so the head rested right at your entrance again. You gave a few slow bounces—just the tip sliding in and out, each time making him curse louder.

“S-shit! Baby—fuck—fuck, just let me in—” His voice cracked, his fingers digging into your skin like he was about to lose it.

You finally pressed your hips down a little more, letting him sink in halfway.

His mouth fell open, a deep, guttural curse ripping out of him. His head snapped forward to look at where you were taking him in, flushed and wide-eyed.

And you just smiled at the desperation in his gaze.

“are you feeling good baby,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“God—yes—fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes fluttering as you dropped down another inch. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. You always do. Always…”

You leaned in again, letting your breasts press to his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then you better hold on,” you whispered, breath hot, “because I’m not gonna stop until you’re a mess for me.”

And with that, you finally sank down fully. All the way. His entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

He let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a moan and a gasp—his head rolling back, hands gripping your ass like he was holding onto sanity itself.

You didn’t move for a moment.

Just stayed there, so full of him, clenching around him until he twitched helplessly inside you. And then—slowly, sinfully—you started to ride.

Your hips began to move again—slow, like honey melting in warm sun, like a wave building over time until it crashes. You circled them, let your walls flutter around him just to feel the way he shuddered beneath you. His eyes opened halfway, heavy-lidded and glazed, following every sensual sway of your body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And to him—it was.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, your palms gliding up his abdomen. “You’re so deep.”

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, but his hips bucked once—shallow, needy. You kept your pace measured, deliberate, grinding down into him with that same velvet friction that made his head roll back again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the sound low and desperate. His hands were clutching at your waist now, not to guide, but to ground himself. “You’re squeezin’ me so good, mmm"

You leaned down slowly, dragging your lips across his collarbone. Then lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, his nipple. As you moved, your body rolled into his, your rhythm never faltering, hips undulating in a steady, torturous rhythm.

Every time you sank down, he twitched inside you, groaning louder.

“I love the way you sound baby,” you whispered, licking the salt from his skin. “All desperate and sweet. My perfect birthday boy.”

He looked at you like he’d melt.

One of his hands slipped up your back, tangled into your hair, tugging lightly as you nuzzled his neck. You licked a stripe just beneath his ear, then suckled gently at his skin, your teeth dragging slightly—leaving soft, loving hickeys along his neck and collar.

And every one had him groaning, his cock jerking inside you.

“Gonna mark you up tonight,” you murmured. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I already do,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, “fuckin’ been yours.”

You smiled into his skin and sat back again, palms braced against his chest as you began to bounce now—slow, deep, full bounces that had him clenching his jaw and moaning through his teeth. His abs flexed beneath your hands. His hands gripped your hips tighter.

Your name left his lips like a prayer.

Your hips found a rhythm—delicious, sticky, sinful—and the way he filled you, the way he responded to every little grind, made your legs start to tremble.

He felt it. His hands slid down to cup your ass again, helping support your movements as he watched you from beneath heavy lashes.

“Baby,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me come—just like this?”

You leaned forward again, kissed him deep, then pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Yes. Inside. Don’t hold back. I want you to come just like this.”

He let out a wrecked moan, his hips finally thrusting up to meet yours, matching your rhythm.

Faster now.

Deeper.

You clung to his shoulders, your mouth falling open as the coil inside you tightened and tightened—

And then he gasped—eyes rolling to close, mouth open and his cock twitching violently inside you as he spilled, deep and thick and hot, fingers bruising your hips while he cursed your name like a confession.

You didn’t stop.

Not even then.

Still slow. Still steady. Still riding out every aftershock as he moaned beneath you, overstimulated and undone. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft as they met yours. His hair stuck to his forehead. His chest heaved. His hands slid up your spine, arms curling around you as he held you close.

Your chest heaved against his, his heart pounding against your ribcage like a war drum. He was still buried deep, twitching, oversensitive—but you didn’t move. You just cradled his face, tilted it up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Listen to you,” you whispered, voice sultry and sweet as sin. “Mouth full of curses… all because I couldn’t help creamin’ all over this fat cock.”

Bakugo groaned through clenched teeth, face flushed and jaw tight like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” you murmured, grinding just enough to make him jolt, to let another wet, obscene squelch fill the space between you. “God, the noise we made—bet our neighbors think I was drowning in it.”

He groaned louder, head falling back against the couch.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Soaked you, Katsuki. You feel how messy I made you? Look at your lap—look at what you did to me.”

He peeked down—eyes glassy—and let out another hoarse, broken curse when he saw the slick still glistening between your thighs, watching how you both were still connected before you lift your hips to show him, with such a sly smile it did something to him, watching his cum dripping slowly out of you onto him.

You guided yourself back in, rocking your hips again, so delicately, and he twitched inside you, helpless. His whole body shivered with a groan, his head collapsing on your shoulder "fuck enough"

You grinned. “You liked it when I sat there and shook my ass on it, didn’t you? Teasin’ you right on the tip ‘til you were cussin’ like you were about to lose your damn mind, yeah?” you grind.

“You’re—fuckin’ evil,” he gasped, fingers twitching against your waist.

You kissed his jawline this time, biting lightly just below his ear. His hands gripped you tighter again, like he was about to flip the script—but he was still spent, still weak from how you dropped your ass on him, He just held you there instead, breathing ragged, letting you purr filth against his skin.

"A little"

[onlyquinns]

Could I please request quinn x reader where luke and jack (more lukey) really look to her as an older sister type figure, calling her at random times of the night, always making sure she bakes them food at the lake house, always asking if she's free to fly to nj and watch their game. And seeing her act this way just makes quinn even more sure she's the one. Thank you gorgeous!!!

he’d been nervous for you to meet his brothers, terrified of what you’d think of them. quinn knew how jack and luke were when they were alone, having grown up with them, but he was unsure how they’d react to you.

really, it’d been an irrational fear—not that you’d ever tell him that—because the two of them had latched onto you the moment they’d met you. it was nearly instant, the way they adopted you as their older sister. as if having an older brother just wasn’t enough.

it was simple stuff at first, like asking when you were coming over or when they’d see you next. but then it quickly developed into asking you for sweet treats, or asking to help you bake in the kitchen—just jack and luke comfortable enough to ask.

you’re standing in the kitchen at the lake house, hands on your hips, and smelling of freshly squeezed lemon. your phone is on the counter, luke on call on speaker.

“can you tell jack it’s my turn to wakeboard?” he asks, voice barely audible over the rumble of the boat’s engine and the sound of moving water. “he’s been hogging it all day.”

you roll your eyes, knowing this was bound to happen after the boys had told you at breakfast they were going out on the lake. “luke, you’re in a sling,” you tell him, “it’s not the best idea for you to be wakeboarding.”

“told you!” quinn says in the background, making luke groan.

“c’mon! you can’t be taking his side, you’re supposed to be on mine!” luke grumbles.

you giggle, the little laugh right on time with your timer. “okay, lukey, i gotta go—got lemon bars in the oven.” luke gasps at the mention of sweets, wakeboarding gone from his mind. before he can even ask, you say, “yes, luke, they’re for you.”

he says something along the lines of oh, my god, thank you! but his words jumble together with oh, shit! jack fell in! before he hangs up, line gone silent. you sigh and shake your head to yourself, constantly amused at his antics.

but it only develops from there—where you go from making desserts and little treats to being woken up in the middle of the night.

it’s three am and you’re half asleep, hand blindly reaching for your ringing phone. you know it’s jack just by the custom ringtone you set for him, some stupid audio of him saying, “it’s jack, PICK UP!” that he’d sent you after you accidentally sent him to voicemail.

quinn groans in bed beside you, tugging you back into his chest by the waist as you pick up the phone.

“hello?” you grumble, throat raw from sleeping—probably with your mouth open. “is something wrong?”

jack’s voice is loud as he starts talking, and you pull the phone away from your ear just in time to make out, “—come to jersey!” you think you heard him wrong and ask him to repeat himself, waiting for a different response, but he says, “we’re playing this weekend, come to jersey.”

it’s not even a question, just a statement. you’re tired and your mind runs slow, but quinn’s fully awake now. he’s suddenly hyper aware of everything that jack is saying, mind running a million miles per hour.

“uh huh, will do,” you say sleepily. “bye, jacky, love you.” and then you hang up, dropping your phone face down onto the mattress.

quinn lays in the dark, holding you tighter, and thinking about what you just said—about how you said you loved his brother. his grip on you loosens just slightly, enough for him to roll over onto his other side. he pulls open his nightstand and digs through random things—old notes, random snacks he keeps for you—until he finds the little ring box tucked in the back.

he thumbs the lid, replaying your short conversation with his brother over and over, then puts it back into its hiding spot. quinn reaches for his phone and shoots a text to his group chat with his brothers, deleting the typos he makes from using just one hand.

“i’m going to do it,” he writes, “i’m going to propose to her and make her your guys’ proper sister.”

he’s about to put his phone back on the nightstand, when he receives a text from luke.

“what do you mean?” it reads. “she already is.”

[unholyhelbig]

i will be patiently (not really) waiting for that sinners fic

Title: All You've Ever Known [18+]

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four]

Ship: Female!Reader x Mary (Sinners 2025)

Summary: When Mary walks into your bar she carries a strange and alluring prescence with her that you can't deny attracts you. She offers you an escape that's much more tantalizing that you'd like to admit.

Dt💕: @luciferdidwhat, @thinking1bee @cum-cowboy

Warnings: Blood, biting, cannon-typical violence, pet names (Darling, sweet girl, all the fun southern dialects), fingering (R receiving), slight dom/sub tones, use of good girl, blood drinking, implied death, fire, drinking, and horrible grammar, I don't proofread.

[A/n: God, the obsession I have with Mary is unmatched. I'm convinced this woman would actually be a gentle lover if the mood called for it. This didn't call for it. Anyway, Hailee is for the girls, and mean domme Hailee is even more for the girls.]

In hindsight, the “All Are Welcome” sign on the front door was a stupid idea. The sentiment brought customers, travelers along the stretch of dusty road that needed a cold drink after a long, hot day. It’d worked well enough to break even, and breaking even was all you needed in the summers, a little more in the winters when the temperatures began to drop and the place needed to be heated, but you hadn’t owned it long enough to brave the season yet. 

It was a technicality, really, that Mary could cross the threshold but a technicality all the same. She’d caught the low golden glow of the oil lamps in pooled brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. Animalistic in their swiftness. Her shoulders were pulled taut as if she belonged there, but no one quite did and that struck you as odd right off the bat. Her familiarity with the unfamiliar. 

She analyzed the one-roomed bar with an heir of lazy judgement: The few scattered tables and mismatched chairs, the scratched discolored pool table near the back wall, and the juke-box that gave off an unnaturally dull glow. The music that hummed from the  speakers tinny and harsh. Finally to the shiplap bar that you stood behind, backing lined with the finer liquor, just a few half drunk bottles of whiskey, while the tap held nothing but piss-poor ale, warm as the summer night. 

Tonight, you weren’t alone. A rare occurrence, a traveler from Albuquerque was settled on a cracked stool at one end of the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon and shoving his meaty fingers into a bowl of shelled peanuts. He wasn’t much for small talk. His hair was greasy and his teeth were cracked and it took him two business days to chew one morsel of food out of choice, not necessity, so you let him be. 

Mary was dressed smartly, a delicate silk button-down tucked into pants that came up to her midriff. They worked in favor of her figure, perfectly manicured fingers gripping a clutch that was sure to hold countless riches, certainly more than what was in your register now. Her hair cut off right above her shoulders, perfectly curled, perfectly smooth. 

“Got anything good to drink around here?” Her voice was like velvet, sharp as a knife. Heels clicking on the floor as she crossed it and leaned heavily on the counter. 

“Depends,” 

She lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Up closer you swore there was a metallic element to her eyes, to her scent even, like gun polish. But she was ethereal all the same. Alluring in a way that you couldn’t place. You had no trouble keeping your gaze on her, but hers darted to the man at the other end of the bar, nose crinkling in the slightest degree. “On?” 

“Your standards. You seem like a woman of fine taste.” 

“Better than that horrible music you have playing,” She smiled, teeth sharp but startlingly white “taste don’t bother me none, as long as it’s cold.” 

You gestured vaguely to a stool and she took one with no qualms. The man at the other end of the counter dove his hand back into the basket of peanuts and shoved whatever he could grab into his mouth. He eyed the woman with caution, stare narrowed and lip snarled back like he knew something you didn’t. She didn’t falter. 

You grabbed a bottle of dark ale from below the counter, frosty, a reprieve from the stiff night air, and cracked it on the corner of the beveled counter. When you handed it over, your fingers brushed. You weren’t proud of yourself but you jerked back. You held your judgements well and your tongue better, but her touch was frigid, worse than the ice you’d just plunged your hand into. 

She took mercy on you, didn’t mention your adverse reaction. “Thank you kindly.” Taking a sip of her drink, cringing in the most beautiful way you’d ever seen. “This is… bad.” 

“It’s cold,” You offered with a nervous smile. 

She smiled back, reserved “That it is. What’s a pretty girl like you doing working in a place like this?” 

The man at the end of the counter scoffed under his breath, but neither of you paid him mind. You were taken aback by the fluidity of her comment. Usually they came from the opposite sex and after a few more sips of shitty beer. She had no issues leaning on the palm of her hand, closer to you, eyes just a hint darker. 

You threw a rag over your shoulder, the weight of it familiar and grounding. “Usually what happens when your daddy up and dies and leaves a place like this behind.” 

“Didn’t mean anything by it, sweet thing. No other family to take over the business?” 

“Just me.” 

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, but you were close enough to town and there was a loaded rifle within your reach, not that you could particularly bring yourself to shoot anyone with it. Another scoff (or perhaps he was choking on his last handful of peanuts) from the man at the other end of the bar stirred some annoyance within you. Not enough to say anything, though. You wanted his money, regardless of his manners. 

He seemed to sense the shift in energy because Albuquerque fished some damp dollar bills from his pocket and deposited the crumpled prize on the table before grunting behind greasy bangs and slow walking a good three feet behind the strange, beautiful woman. Closer to the tables than he was to the bar. His boots were heavier than his gait. 

The woman didn’t seem to mind his odd behavior, taking another slow sip of her drink, but you tracked him with your eyes until he was gone. When it had been just the two of you, there was no threat detected in the air. Not by you, at least. But the added presence of another woman changed things. Not just any woman. Her. Something about her. 

“Odd fellow,” You took the glass from his spot, deposited it into the nearest plastic bin and dumped the basket of peanuts. Unsalvageable. You wanted to busy yourself under her tender gaze. “But money is money.” 

“Is that what interests you?” 

The question caught you off guard. Made you pause before you answered her. You grabbed your own glass and poured some clear liquid to cover the bottom. Odorless but with enough bite to light up your stomach. “It didn’t used to be. Existing was enough, enjoying the simple things of life. But, now I have this place.” 

“There legacy behind it?” she leaned forward and your eyes met her own. They’d softened somewhere along the line. You’d gotten closer too. No one ever asked you about yourself, hadn’t since they made you sign the black line attributed to your fathers will and that was limited to your legal name and date of birth. Even that had made you uncomfortable. But this woman dragged it out of you, simple like hot honey spread across freshly baked bread. “What I mean is, would it be so bad to let it go?” 

“My daddy’s daddy owned it, and his daddy before that. It used to be a lot nicer than this, if you can believe it. Then the depression hit and a lot of dust got dragged in. A lot of blood too. It’s not much but I had Christmas’s here, Thanksgivings and Easters. There’s a room in the back where I sleep, live and eat. It’s all I’ve ever known.” 

She hummed thoughtfully, lilting her head to the side, resting her chin on the lip of the bottle. It was as if she were scrutinizing you. “All you’ve ever known, huh?” 

“All I’ve ever known.” 

You don’t exactly know when Mary gets you to cross the threshold of the bar, nor do you recall when she whispers her name hotly against your lips, you just know she’s suddenly the only thing there. Her strangely metallic and floral scent, and cold touch balancing into something delicious and alluring. The crispness of her touch didn’t dissuade you, her lips were warm against your own and the taste of the vodka you’d consumed mingled toxically with something primal in her own mouth as she licked into it. 

Mary was not gentle, nor rough in her ministrations. She kissed against the corner of your lips and then across the expanse of your jaw, hands tangled into your hair, breaths panted hot on your skin. “What’s your name, darlin?” 

“Should have asked that before,” You countered, dragging your nails down the exposed skin of her chest, perfect and unmarred. You found the pearlescent button at the top of soft silk, you couldn’t get full thoughts out, not with the way she was touching you. “You had your tongue down my throat.” 

Mary smiled against your skin, genuine this time, the action peaked. “Let me have it and I’ll sing it like a hymn. Speak it like a prayer. Baby, I am not above getting on my knees to beg.” 

You pulled back slightly at this, placing your hand on her chest. She was panting heavy and staring directly into your soul with those onyx eyes of hers. There was nothing but blind devotion there. Almost as if she worshipped a stranger that she hadn’t known an hour earlier. It was working and you hated that it was. That when she slotted her knee against your sex it drew a moan from your lips, her nose nudging playfully against your own. 

“Y/n,” You whispered out, word shaking in the confines of your voice. “It’s y/n.” 

Mary repeated it back to you with delicacy. A softness that no one had ever treated you with before. Her exhale was hot on your lips, the tips of her fingers tracing over your features as if she’d never met another person. There was a darkness that pulsed in her gaze that thrilled you. That pushed a groan from your throat. Her hand moved there, but didn’t squeeze. 

She walked the two of  you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the pool table, her lips once again connected with yours, but her hands on your hips. Mary lifted you in a show of strength, setting you on the edge. She swallowed your noise of shock, of arousal, only pulling away long enough to remove your shirt and toss it. 

“Wait,” You whispered against her, halting her movements.She was stone still, breathing heavier. Growling with each exhale but complying to your request nonetheless. “I’m the only place for miles. What if Albuquerque comes back?” 

Mary lifted her head from your shoulder, eyebrow raised “Albuquerque?” 

“Where he was from, don’t know his name. Didn’t care enough to ask.” 

Her lip twitched up slightly at this. “I wouldn’t worry much about that, sweet girl. Plenty of things in these woods take care of creeps like that. And if he does come back lookin’ for trouble, I’ll handle it.” 

“You?” 

“Yes,” She leaned forward pressing her lips back to a soft spot under your jaw. “Me. Now, do you want to keep talking about New Mexico or do you want me to take care of you? Make you feel real nice.” 

The second option sounded better. Much better, especially when she nipped at your skin a little and soothed it with her tongue, her deft fingers trailing expertly down your sides and to the button of your pants, unlatching the metal with fluidity.

When she swiped her fingers through your sex, you fell forward into her, burying your face in her shoulder. It was marred with the scent of salt and spice and clove. The sly touch was enough to have you trembling.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re this reactive.” She said it like an infinite statement, not a question. “If we’re going to do this, I want to hear every sweet little noise that comes out of that mouth.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.” Mary snarled back at you, mocked you. It was cruel, but it worked regardless. You wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she slipped two fingers into you, a gasp falling from your lips. Her own were back on your neck, a strange fascination there, licking and nipping and soothing all within the same breath. “you’re so tight. So fucking tight.”

Mary thrusts rapidly into you with a steady pace, the lude, wet sounds coming from the both of you was the most action this place had ever seen. The pool table creaked beneath the effort of your shared movements as you rutted closer to this near stranger. Under a spell, intoxicated. 

Her palm applies even pressure to your clit, her other hand palming your breast. Even through the fabric of your bra, the touch is cold and startling but you don’t have much time to contemplate the change in temperature because she’s pushing you onto your back straddling you fully now, balancing precariously on the lip of the pool table. Her hand is trapped between her stoney presence and your writhing body.

She’s got more weight to her than you imagined. You got to move your hand to her hip, but she snatches your wrist, pins it to the green felt above your head. Shows you that she’s in complete control. You tighten around her at this, shutter out a breath.

“There’s too much that goes on in that mind of yours, isn’t there, doll?” her voice was gravelly, ferine in nature. “That’s why you put that sign in the window. Too much effort to make pesky rules about who or what could come in here.”

“Huh?”

It was a weird thing to mention, and frankly, didn’t matter much when she curled her fingers the way that she did. You could feel yourself getting close, could feel that fire building in your belly and she much have felt it too because she slowed down, painstakingly slow. A disquieted whine left your chest.

Mary tsked, pulling back from her continual kissing and nipping against your throat and collarbone, the tops of your breasts. Your eyes were screwed shut. The pressure shifted when she did. She sat back. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

There was a strange timbre to her voice that cut through the blissful haze you were swimming in. Your eyes opening, stare meeting with Mary’s, entirely black, ink spreading so easily through what little brown had remained. The oil lamps caught the silver that rested in the middle. The animalistic, feral, hungry part of her that reminded you all too much of a demon.

Fear seized you when she smiled, mingled with the adrenaline and arousal that still lingered. She was deep inside you, working slowly in and out. And by God, you still wanted to kiss her, still wanted whatever she had to offer, because you had known. Deep down you had known that something was off with Mary.

And that was just fine, because it was different. It wasn’t the same shitty four walls. Not this time.

She lilted her head, processing the fear in your eyes, then the acceptance as her tongue ran over the four pointed teeth, saliva abundant. The hand holding yours down subconsciously loosened it’s grip.

“Will you finish fucking me before you kill me?” You huffed.  

“I promised I’d take care of you. Will you let me take care of you?”

Of course you nodded, too quickly, too desperately. You were on the edge of release and needed her to continue her efforts to get you there. Mary purred, lowering herself back on top of you with languid expertise, doubling down.

She picked up her thrusting, her pressure. Her lips were back on yours, this time the sharpness of her teeth cut into your bottom lip. You grunted into her, the sting shocking but nice within the same go. The blood against your tongue a sweet and salty mix of ecstasy.

Mary’s lips trailed from your own, your noises of pleasure becoming louder. The pressure was building in your abdomen, breaths coming faster, sweat forming against your skin. Mary was at your throat now, palm on your chest, strength keeping you flush to the pool table.

She timed it perfectly, the mix of pain and pleasure. The moment her teeth dug into your neck and your orgasm washed over you. You arched into her all the same, and she held you like the gentle lover that she portrayed herself as.

You reveled in the coolness of her now, the way your heat-slicked skin felt pressed close to her own. She ate messily, but quietly all the same, working you through your own release as a light-headedness filled you.

The pain was there; of course it was there. Flesh was bitten into, scarred and torn and ripped as if it were nothing but paper mâché. But you shook all the same from satisfaction. Breath coming heavy and fast, and softly all at once.

Mary pulled her fingers from you, the feeling of being empty drawing a whimper from you, soothed by a squeeze to the hip and she shifting of weight atop you. Your eyes trained on the shiplap ceiling above you, the wet sounds of a tongue lapping at a warmth slicking your shoulder, the felt of the pool table.

Teeth pulling from tendons was somehow a worse loss than her fingers from your sex. Something deeper, emptier. She sat back on your midsection, dragged her arm across her face to smear the cherry red across the perfect sleeve of her shirt. Most of yourself had gotten on her.

“You have a beautiful name, darlin. Beautiful face too.” Mary took her thumb, dragged it against the edge of her lip and licked your blood clean from it. “When was the last time you saw the sunrise?”

It was hard to think. Your body felt slow, painful, uncomfortable on all accounts. A searing pain radiating from where her teeth had sunk into you, thrumming through your body. Was she just going to let you bleed out? Not bring about a quick end? There had been hunger in her eyes, not cruelty.

“I don’t remember,” You rasped out.

Mary frowned, something of sorrow, but it was brief. Both of her hands placed on your chest. “It won’t be long now. Before you can’t see it again. Little things that you miss appreciating when you have a chance. I haven’t seen the sunrise in fifteen years.”

You coughed under her, wet and heavy. Mary took your hand in her own. Bloodied, but still perfectly manicured, “That’s sad.”

“It can be. But fire looks a lot like a sunrise if you squint.” She gave you a smile, the first genuine one of the night that crinkled at her eyes. Not hiding the sharp teeth behind her lips. “What do you say when you wake up, we burn this place to the ground. Give you one last sunrise?”

You blew air out of your nose. “Didn’t think I was gonna wake up.”

“Course you are, angel.” She gave your hand a gentle, yet firm squeeze. “I’m not a monster.”

[hancorys]

k.wh — small girl fantasy

genre: fluff, co-worker to lovers hehe, reader have a BIG FAT crush on unagi (who doesn’t) mutual pining, self-indulged pairing: crush!woonhak x afab!reader wc: 3176 warning: they both have responsibility crisis, both NUMBBB, lmk if i forgot any !! listen: small girl — lee youngji ft. do, binibini — zack tabudlo, take a chance with me — niki, aya — earl agustin

the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet store, the flickering fluorescent lights above casting a dull glow over the aisles. your shift was dragging, and with barely any customers coming in, you found yourself wiping the already spotless counter just to keep your hands busy.

the air smelled faintly of instant ramen and cheap coffee, the scent clinging to your uniform as you absentmindedly ran the rag over the counter for the third time. your thoughts drifted—mostly to woonhak, as they often did during these long, uneventful shifts.

woonhak was at the back of the store, stacking boxes near the stockroom. from where you stood, you could see the way his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms as he effortlessly lifted each box like it weighed nothing. he made it look easy, just like he made everything look easy.

you bit the inside of your cheek, annoyed at yourself for staring. it wasn’t like he was going to notice anyway. he never did.

at first, you tried convincing yourself that he was just quiet, that maybe he was the type of person who kept his distance from coworkers. but that theory crumbled quickly when you watched him chat effortlessly with customers, throwing in the occasional charming smile or polite nod. even when his friends dropped by, he greeted them with a grin, his usual composed expression softening into something warmer.

but with you? nothing.

sure, he said hi when your shifts overlapped. he’d ask you to stock shelves if he was busy handling the register. but that was the extent of it. no small talk. no casual conversations about school or life outside the store. just simple, impersonal exchanges that made you feel more like background noise than an actual person.

it was frustrating, really. and the worst part? you still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

you sighed, leaning against the counter, when a voice suddenly cut through the silence.

“you missed a spot.”

you jolted, your grip on the rag tightening as you turned to see woonhak standing beside you, peering down at the counter with his usual unreadable expression.

you blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a second. “what?”

woonhak pointed to a barely visible smudge near the register, his tone as casual as ever. “right there.”

you quickly wiped over it, heat creeping up your neck. of course, the first real thing he says to you all shift has to be about cleaning. not school, not work, not even some throwaway comment about the weather—just that.

when you looked up again, he was already walking away, disappearing into the stockroom like the moment hadn’t even happened.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, staring after him in disbelief.

was he really that oblivious? or was he doing this on purpose?

either way, it was driving you insane.

the more time you spent working at the store, the more you started noticing the little things about woonhak. not the obvious things—like the way customers always gravitated toward him or how effortlessly he balanced school and work—but the smaller details, the ones you weren’t sure anyone else even paid attention to.

for instance, the way he hummed under his breath when he thought no one was listening. it was always something soft, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerators. sometimes, it was an old song playing faintly through the store’s speakers; other times, it was just a melody with no real pattern. you caught yourself lingering near the aisles whenever it happened, pretending to fix the same row of snacks just to hear it a little longer.

he also had this habit of organizing snacks by color. at first, you thought it was just him being efficient, but then you realized he did it even when it wasn’t necessary. the chips, the candies, even the energy drinks—if he was stocking the shelves, they always ended up arranged in a neat, color-coordinated gradient.

“you know, no one really cares if the ramen cups go from red to yellow,” you teased one evening, watching as he rearranged a row of instant noodles.

woonhak didn’t even look up. “yeah, but it looks better like this.”

you tilted your head, studying his expression. he wasn’t doing it for the customers. he wasn’t even doing it because his dad expected the shelves to look nice. he just liked things a certain way. it was oddly endearing.

but the thing that really got to you? the way he sometimes looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

it started small. you’d glance up from the register and catch his eyes flickering away too quickly. or you’d be restocking the shelves and feel the weight of his gaze just before he turned back to whatever he was doing. at first, you thought you were imagining it, that maybe you just wanted him to look at you so badly that your mind was playing tricks on you.

but then it kept happening.

like that time you were leaning against the counter during a slow shift, absentmindedly fiddling with a snack wrapper, when you felt it—that unmistakable pull of someone’s stare. you turned your head just in time to see woonhak, standing by the fridge section, looking right at you.

his expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something unfamiliar, something you couldn’t quite name.

the second your eyes met, he looked away, pretending to check the labels on the bottled drinks.

your heartbeat stuttered.

maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as you thought.

—

the storm rolled in without warning. one moment, the sky outside the store was a deep navy, the streetlights flickering lazily against the pavement. the next, rain was hammering against the windows, wind howling through the cracks in the doors. then—darkness.

the hum of the refrigerators cut out, the overhead lights flickered once, then died. the only thing left was the soft, eerie glow of the emergency lights lining the walls.

“great,” you muttered, setting down the inventory clipboard you’d been pretending to work on.

behind the counter, woonhak sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. he tapped the screen. “no signal.”

of course. just your luck to be stuck in a blackout, in a convenience store, alone with woonhak.

you shifted awkwardly, glancing at him. “should we, uh… do something? or just wait it out?”

he looked around, eyes scanning the dimly lit store. “well, we can’t close up, and we can’t leave.” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

with nothing else to do, the two of you sat down on the floor near the counter, backs against the shelves stocked with instant noodles. the emergency lights cast a faint, bluish glow over his face, making his features look softer, almost unreal.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was heavy, like something unspoken was lingering between you. then, out of nowhere, woonhak let out a small, breathy chuckle.

“this is kinda weird, huh?” he mused.

you turned to him. “what is?”

“being here like this. we’ve worked together for months, but this is probably the longest we’ve ever talked.”

you blinked, taken aback by his sudden honesty. “yeah. you’ve always been... kind of hard to talk to.”

he raised an eyebrow. “hard to talk to?”

“i mean, you’re quiet. you don’t really say much unless it’s about work,” you admitted, hugging your knees. “honestly, i wasn’t sure if you even liked me.”

woonhak tilted his head slightly, studying you. “i never disliked you,” he said after a pause. “i just… don’t always know what to say.”

you looked at him, waiting, sensing there was more.

he exhaled, leaning his head back against the shelves. “it’s kinda dumb, but… i feel like i don’t have time to just—talk. i’m always thinking about what i should be doing next. school, work, helping my dad. it’s a lot, you know?”

his voice was quieter now, the usual steadiness replaced with something more fragile.

“because you’re the eldest?” you asked softly.

he nodded, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “yeah. i don’t really have a choice. my dad relies on me, and i don’t want to let him down. sometimes, i think about what i actually want to do, but then i feel guilty, like i’m being selfish.”

for the first time, you saw him not as the woonhak that everyone admired—the perfect son, the dependable coworker—but as a boy who was just… tired.

hesitantly, you said, “i get it. maybe not in the exact same way, but… i understand what it’s like to feel like you have to be something for everyone else.”

he turned to you, intrigued. “yeah?”

you nodded, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “i’ve always felt like i had to prove something. like if i don’t push myself hard enough, i’ll just… fade into the background. i guess that’s why i’ve always been so frustrated with you.”

he blinked. “with me?”

you let out a small laugh. “yeah. you make everything look so easy. it’s like you don’t even have to try, and meanwhile, i’m over here struggling to keep up.”

woonhak was quiet for a moment, then—to your surprise—he smiled. not his usual polite smile, but something softer, more real.

“i didn’t know you thought that,” he murmured. “if it makes you feel any better, i think you work harder than anyone else here.”

you felt your face warm, looking away. “you’re just saying that.”

“no,” he said simply. “i’m not.”

the air between you shifted, something settling into place. and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t feel invisible.

—

the change was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it.

woonhak was everywhere.

he was always near, always teasing, always finding little excuses to talk to you. he stopped treating you like just another co-worker and started acting like… well, like someone who actually wanted to be around you.

one evening, after an unusually slow shift, you were restocking shelves when you accidentally knocked over a row of neatly stacked chip bags.

“careful,” woonhak drawled from behind you, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “you break it, you buy it.”

you huffed, bending down to pick up the fallen bags. “do you ever actually help, or do you just stand there and make fun of me?”

“oh, i definitely just stand here and make fun of you,” he said, grinning.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

and then there was the way he waited for you after shifts. at first, you thought it was a coincidence—maybe he just happened to finish work at the same time as you. but then it happened again. and again.

“why are you still here?” you asked one night, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets as you locked up the store.

woonhak stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t been waiting outside for you. “it’s dark out.”

“so?”

he gave you a pointed look. “might as well walk together.”

you narrowed your eyes. “but your house is—”

“doesn’t matter.” he started walking ahead, then glanced back at you, raising an eyebrow. “you coming, or what?”

you hated how easily he did this—how effortlessly he inserted himself into your routine, into your life, like he had always been there.

you groaned, but the truth was, you liked it. you liked how he matched his pace with yours, how he walked on the side closest to the street, how he never let the conversation die out even when you weren’t sure what to say.

and then there were the snacks.

at first, it was small. a bag of your favorite chips left near the register, a cold drink placed beside your bag without a word. when you asked about it, he’d just shrug.

“it’s nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing.

one afternoon, after a particularly long shift, you found a neatly wrapped rice ball waiting for you in the breakroom.

you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. “did you—”

“you haven’t eaten, right?” woonhak interrupted, not looking at you as he busied himself with the stock list.

you blinked. “how did you know?”

“you always forget when you’re working.”

your heart stuttered at his words.

he noticed.

he was noticing you now. really noticing you.

you unwrapped the rice ball slowly, trying to ignore the way your hands felt unsteady. “thanks,” you muttered.

woonhak finally looked at you then, and for once, his usual teasing expression softened into something quieter. “don’t mention it.”

and that was how it was. little moments, little gestures, little things that all added up to something bigger.

you weren’t sure what it was, not yet. but you liked it.

and just as you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was turning into something more—

you overheard the conversation.

—

it was late, your shift nearly over, when you heard woonhak’s father speaking in hushed tones near the back of the store.

“it’s a big opportunity, woonhak. you’d be crazy to pass this up.”

you froze, your hand tightening around the stack of receipts you’d been organizing.

“i know,” woonhak replied, his voice lower than usual. hesitant.

you inched closer to the back of the store, staying just out of sight behind one of the shelves.

“then what’s the problem?” his father pressed. “you’ve worked hard for this. this isn’t just about the store—this is about your future.”

there was a pause. a long, heavy silence.

then, woonhak exhaled. “it’s just... sudden.”

“that’s how these things work. you don’t always get time to think. you have to act.” his father’s voice softened slightly. “listen, i know you worry about me, about the store, but i’ll be fine. this is your chance to do something more, something bigger than this place.”

your stomach twisted.

what was he talking about? what opportunity? where would it take him?

and why—why did it feel like something was slipping through your fingers before you even had the chance to hold it?

you heard woonhak sigh, the kind he let out when he was deep in thought, troubled.

“i just need time,” he murmured.

his father didn’t push him further, only replying, “just don’t take too long, son.”

you stood frozen behind the shelves long after the conversation ended, your heart pounding in your ears.

because you already knew.

whatever this was—whatever had been growing between you and woonhak, however slowly, however subtly—it wasn’t going to last.

the next few days felt different. not because anything had changed—woonhak still teased you, still left snacks by the register, still waited for you after your shifts like it was the most natural thing in the world. but now, there was something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

you weren’t sure if he knew you had overheard. part of you wanted to pretend you didn’t, to pretend things were the same. but you weren’t sure how long you could keep up the act when every moment with him suddenly felt like it had an expiration date.

then one night, as the store’s closing time approached, woonhak finally said it.

“can we talk?”

you turned to him, heart pounding. “yeah.”

he hesitated before pulling you outside, the cool night air wrapping around you both. the neon lights from the store’s sign buzzed softly above you, casting a faint glow over his face.

for a moment, he just looked at you, like he was trying to memorize something. then, he sighed.

“you heard, didn’t you?”

you swallowed. “yeah.”

woonhak let out a dry chuckle, looking down at his shoes. “figured. you’re not exactly subtle when you eavesdrop.”

“shut up,” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “it’s a scholarship. a really good one. i’d be studying abroad for a year—maybe longer, if things go well.”

your chest tightened. “that’s… amazing.”

he scoffed. “you don’t sound like you mean that.”

“no, i do.” you forced a smile. “this is everything you’ve worked for, right?”

“yeah,” he said, but his voice was uncertain. he wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out at the empty street instead. “but… i don’t want to leave you alone.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

he turned back to you, his usual teasing expression replaced with something raw, something real. “i mean it. the thought of being somewhere new, somewhere exciting—it should make me happy, right? but all i can think about is how i won’t be here. with you.”

your throat felt tight. because a few months ago, you never would have imagined hearing those words from woonhak. back then, you weren’t even sure he noticed you. and now here he was, standing in front of you, telling you he didn’t want to leave you behind.

but you couldn’t let him stay just for you.

you reached out, poking his forehead lightly. “you’re an idiot.”

he blinked. “what—”

“you have to go, woonhak,” you said softly. “you’d regret it if you didn’t.”

he frowned. “but—”

“but nothing,” you cut him off, smiling a little. “you won’t lose me.”

he stared at you, and for once, he didn’t have a witty comeback.

you took a deep breath. “i’ll wait for you. no matter how long it takes.”

woonhak exhaled, shaking his head with a small, incredulous laugh. “you’re serious?”

“dead serious.” you tilted your head at him. “what, do you not trust me?”

“no, it’s not that,” he muttered. “it’s just… funny. the you from a few months ago didn’t even think i knew you existed, and now you’re out here promising to wait for me.”

you felt your face heat up. “shut up.”

but woonhak was grinning now, his usual self creeping back in. “you’re kind of romantic, you know that?”

“don’t push it.”

he laughed, then—to your surprise—reached out and ruffled your hair. “alright, fine. i’ll go. but only because you said you’d wait for me.”

you swatted his hand away, scowling. “like you weren’t gonna go anyway.”

“nope. i was seriously considering staying.” he gave you a lopsided smile, and something about it made your heart ache. “but i guess i have to make this count now. wouldn’t want to keep you waiting too long.”

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

and when he walked you home that night, he stayed a little longer by your door, hesitating like he had something more to say.

but instead of words, he reached out, carefully intertwining his pinky with yours.

a silent promise.

“wait for me,” he murmured.

you squeezed his hand, grinning. “i already said i would, didn’t i?”

and as woonhak laughed, shaking his head like you were the most ridiculous person in the world, you realized something.

for the first time, you weren’t afraid of losing him. because somehow, in his own way, woonhak was waiting for you too.

© hancorys, 2025.

[punk-octo]

I haven't seen anyone comment on Belle and Wise's fuck ass kia soul and I think we should for a couple of reasons

1.) In a futuristic world with robots and cool cars getting a 2 x 4 box with wheels is the most "we have no money and found this on Craigslist for 1000 dennies" option they could of possibly chose

2.) It's completely kitted out to be an advertisement for, what was before the story, a dying video store that is just a front for their criminal work which is insane. Also, why does it have a speaker like an ice cream truck or news van? What are they broadcasting? Full length movies?

3.) And, finally, why the fuck is their car SO LOW???? They couldn't have possibly bought it like this they must of gone in and lowered the suspension themselves multiple times. Literally one tiny speed bump would ruin the entire car. This can't possibly be road legal.

This concludes my petition to get the proxy siblings a new car that's not their custom kia soul thank you

[commodorez]

Start Me Up: 30 years of Windows 95 - @commodorez and @ms-dos5

Okay, last batch of photos from our exhibit, and I wanted to highlight a few details because so much planning and preparation went into making this the ultimate Windows 95 exhibit. And now you all have to hear about it.

You'll note software boxes from both major versions of Windows 95 RTM (Release To Manufacturing, the original version from August 24, 1995): the standalone version "for PCs without Windows", and the Upgrade version "for users of Windows". We used both versions when setting up the machines you see here to show the variety of install types people performed. My grandpa's original set of install floppies was displayed in a little shadowbox, next to a CD version, and a TI 486DX2-66 microprocessor emblazoned with "Designed for Microsoft Windows 95".

The machines on display, from left to right include:

Chicago Beta 73g on a custom Pentium 1 baby AT tower

Windows 95 RTM on an AST Bravo LC 4/66d desktop

Windows 95 RTM on a (broken) Compaq LTE Elite 4/75cx laptop

Windows 95 OSR 1 on an Intertel Pentium 1 tower

Windows 95 OSR 1 on a VTEL Pentium 1 desktop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Satellite T1960CT laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Libretto 70CT subnotebook

Windows 95 OSR 2 on an IBM Thinkpad 760E laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2.5 on a custom Pentium II tower (Vega)

That's alot of machines that had to be prepared for the exhibit, so for all of them to work (minus the Compaq) was a relief. Something about the trip to NJ rendered the Compaq unstable, and it refused to boot consistently. I have no idea what happened because it failed in like 5 different steps of the process.

The SMC TigerHub TP6 nestled between the Intertel and VTEL served as the network backbone for the exhibit, allowing 6 machines to be connected over twisted pair with all the multicolored network cables. However, problems with PCMCIA drivers on the Thinkpad, and the Compaq being on the blink meant only 5 machines were networked. Vega was sporting a CanoScan FS2710 film scanner connected via SCSI, which I demonstrated like 9 times over the course of the weekend -- including to LGR!

Game controllers were attached to computers where possible, and everything with a sound card had a set of era-appropriate speakers. We even picked out a slew of mid-90s mouse pads, some of which were specifically Windows 95 themed. We had Zip disks, floppy disks, CDs full of software, and basically no extra room on the tables. Almost every machine had a different screensaver, desktop wallpaper, sound scheme, and UI theme, showing just how much was user customizable.

@ms-dos5 made a point to have a variety of versions of Microsoft Office products on the machines present, meaning we had everything from stand-alone copies of Word 95 and Excel 95, thru complete MS Office 95 packages (standard & professional), MS Office 97 (standard & professional), Publisher, Frontpage, & Encarta.

We brought a bunch of important books about 95 too:

The Windows Interface Guidelines for Software Design

Microsoft Windows 95 Resource Kit

Hardware Design Guide for Windows 95

Inside Windows 95 by Adrian King

Just off to the right, stacked on top of some boxes was an Epson LX-300+II dot matrix printer, which we used to create all of the decorative banners, and the computer description cards next to each machine. Fun fact -- those were designed to mimic the format and style of 95's printer test page! We also printed off drawings for a number of visitors, and ended up having more paper jams with the tractor feed mechanism than we had Blue Screen of Death instances.

In fact, we only had 3 BSOD's total, all weekend, one of which was expected, and another was intentional on the part of an attendee.

We also had one guy install some shovelware/garbageware on the AST, which caused all sorts of errors, that was funny!

Thanks for coming along on this ride, both @ms-dos5 and I appreciate everyone taking the time to enjoy our exhibit.

It's now safe to turn off your computer.

VCF East XX

[koiiiji]

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

[moonstruckme]

Would you pls write a tattoo artist Sirius x fem reader where it’s her first time getting a tattoo and she’s really nervous but he’s really hot idk sorry totally fine if not !!💗

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of needle

modern au

tattoo artist!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

A bell rings as you enter the shop, and you cringe internally. It seems as though now you’re committed to being here. 

“Hi,” a blonde woman behind a desk greets you with a polite smile. “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate, your footsteps stalling like you might back right out the door. “Um, no.” 

“That’s alright.” She waves you forward. “We have space for walk-ins today. I’ve got an appointment coming in a few, but go ahead and fill this out,” she slides a sheet of paper in front of you, “and Sirius will be out for you in a minute.” 

You take the pen she offers you with a terse smile, and even your name is hardly legible with the trembling in your fingers. Sirius, you think as you tick boxes while hardly looking at them. That’s a boy’s name. Isn’t it? You’re not sure how you feel about a boy doing your tattoo. You’d always pictured a cool, tatted-up girl with a throaty voice and a calming demeanor to set your nerves at ease. You’re tempted to ask this woman if you can just book an appointment with her for later, but when you look up she’s slipped behind the curtain to the back room. 

A few moments later, a different head pops out instead. 

“Hello,” this new man says, grinning whilst your stomach bottoms out. Fair skin, dark hair tied loosely behind his head, and tattoos from his neck going down as far as you can see before they disappear under the waist of his pants. His grin is sharp and welcoming at once, spreading over his fine features like it’s been well practiced. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“You about done with that?” 

It takes him dropping his gaze to the paper under your hand before you realize what he’s talking about. 

“Oh.” You give a weak laugh, pushing it toward him. “Yeah.” 

“Beautiful.” He picks it up, looking it over briefly. “Ready to head back?”

You can feel your heartbeat in your mouth. “Mhm.” 

He holds the curtain open for you. You turn yourself a bit sideways to avoid brushing either him or the curtain as you go through, and he makes an amused face. 

“I’m Sirius,” he says, leading you towards the chairs in the back of the room. There’s music playing from a speaker in the corner, something quick and bass-heavy that’s probably meant to pump up more seasoned customers but makes your skin feel twitchy. Sirius gives you an expectant look. You blink in response. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” You tell him your name. The syllables feel new and awkward on your tongue. 

Sirius tosses you another winsome smile. “No worries,” he reassures you, and you wonder if he gets this reaction a lot. If everyone feels this way around him, like having his full attention directed at you is a little intoxicating and a lot overwhelming. “Is this your first tattoo?” 

“Yeah.” You sit in the chair he gestures to. “How’d you know?” 

He chuckles, the sound sharp and bright. “You’re a tad jumpy, love.” You feel heat rush to your face, but then Sirius gives your calf a little pat and it all goes there instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You usually have problems with needles?” 

“Not really.” You squirm a little, making sure your skirt isn’t riding up your thighs. “I just don’t have any idea how badly it’ll hurt.” 

“Oh, it’s not too bad usually. Do you have an idea of what you want?” 

“Um, yeah.” You get out your phone, showing him the picture you’d found. “Could you maybe do this, like, by my hip?” 

Sirius leans closer to see. “As little as that one?” You nod, and he grins. “Yeah, that’ll be easy! I can do that in five minutes, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” 

“Really?” you ask, hope inflating in your chest. 

“Yeah, let me just…” He turns around to a small desk, drawing a careful sketch before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Alright, where do you want it?”

You pull down the waistband of your skirt, pointing to the bit of skin where your hip turns into your stomach. You hold your breath as he presses the paper to your skin. When he peels it back up, the design stays. 

“Like that?” 

Your reply comes out on an exhale, soft and a bit dizzy. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius looks down at his work, then back up at you. You can’t decide which makes your stomach hurt worse. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. You alright?” 

You ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips and force yourself to answer before you can think too hard. “Yeah.” 

Sirius looks like he can tell you’re faking it, but he blazes forward anyway, giving you a reassuring smile. “Great, just lie back for me. Like that, yeah. Cool if I roll the top of your skirt down so it doesn’t get in our way?”

You nod. He’s careful and professional as he takes the waistband of your skirt, folding it over itself until it sits beneath your hips, but still a gloved knuckle brushes up against the skin of your lower abdomen. Your heart hiccups.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re going to do.” You look up to find Sirius’ eyes already waiting for yours. They’re lighter than you’d thought from a distance, a grayish blue like the ocean during a storm. His one hand is resting on the temporary tattoo, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat bumping through your skin. You certainly can. “I’m going to touch the machine to you for just a second so you know how it feels, and then I’ll take it off. Sound good?” 

You nod again, bracing yourself. “Okay.” 

“Alright.” 

The machine buzzes to life, and it’s an effort not to flinch. You press your lips together in case you make a sound. Sirius’ brow pinches concentratedly as he touches the needle to the stencil he’s made on your skin. It’s over before you can process it. 

“How was that?” he asks you.

You look up at him in surprise. “Fine,” you say honestly. It stung, but not nearly as bad as you’d expected, and only for as long as he was touching the needle to you. 

“Beautiful.” Sirius seems as relieved as you are, his grin flashing canines. “In that case, you’re golden. Just sit pretty for me, yeah?”

You feel like he has to be intentionally flustering you now, but you don’t have time to dwell upon it before he sets back to work. The sting really is negligible, especially with Sirius’ fingers pressing into your skin to steady his touch and his elbow resting lightly against your thigh. You feel hot in all sorts of places. 

Those gray-blue eyes flicker up to check on you when he pauses every now and then. “You’re amazing,” he praises. “Doing so well, love.” 

It doesn’t help.

[pforestsims]

Lo and behold, the amazing @episims has made "It's Myshuno" into a functional thing! I had no furniture appropriate for bingo halls so I decided to make some. I also gave Myshuno cube & marker a makeover and Epi has created multicolor mod for those, so when Sim starts playing, one of four color options is picked at random 😀

Bingo Hall Set

& Myshuno Cube & Marker Default / Multicolor Mod

Download: SFS | BOX

*Bar dining table requires bar table mod by @morepopcorn that allows placing bar stools at bar tables (with custom BHAV also by Morepopcorn) - mod is included.

*I recommend my default for Myshuno, you can find it here. Last but not least, you need Epi's Myshuno fix (SFS).

More pics under the cut:

*This is for The Sims 2

Archive was updated 20.06.2024:

- Added 'Bingo Hall Speaker' (decor) Hobbies/Misc, 8 S.

- Lowered the Bingo Hall Coffee Table surface a little bit, so it's now compatible with diningtable-height OMSP (it was almost compatible but object shadows would sink into the top).

- Edited TXMT settings for decorative score cards so these are less bright.

Bingo Hall Chair (livingroom chair) seat is repo'd to Ektorp sofa. I also included a base game-friendly edit that pulls recolors from Satinistic Loveseat - these are two versions of the same chair and cannot be used together. Frame has 5 different looks - left wall mount, right wall mount, left & right extended frame - all in one mesh. That's why each recolor package contains multiple recolors.

Place the chair near a wall (right or left side), then enable setquartertileplacement On cheat to add another chair close to the first one (upper right pic). Sims are able to move between these chairs /and also between chair and wall.

Included coffee table is in fact 1x1, bar dining table is 1x2 - you can place these with shorter or longer side facing the wall - only front side of the dining bar table is functional though (as shown in the pic below).

Use setquartertileplacement On cheat (CTRL + F activates it) to align wall-mounted dining table with the wall /Coffee table is different size and cannot be aligned this way/.

Polycounts:

Cube & Marker default: cube 272 poly, marker 176 poly, 128x128 px textures. Multicolor mod contains 8 textures, there's also a 'standard' default containing two textures.

Chair is 830 poly, Tables are below 600 poly, decorative score card is below 500 poly. Textures 256 x 256 px.

New - Bingo Hall Speaker /or whatever this thing is called/ pulls textures from basegame Club Distress Avignon table and Value Counter. Polycount: 382.

[pitchsidestories]

make the season bright II Millie Bright x Arsenal!Reader

masterlist | word count: 1023

summary: Millie and reader go shopping for christmas, but the Chelsea defender has a special gift for the Arsenal player in mind.

author's note: dear readers, the oneshot is based on this lovely request, we hope you'll have fun with it.

The shopping centre was full of life so close to Christmas. People hurried from store to store to buy presents and decorations while Christmas songs blared from the speakers. In contrast to your girlfriend, you enjoyed the pre-holiday hustle and bustle. It got you into the Christmas spirit while Millie was just stressed out by it.

Knowing this, you quickly pressed a quick kiss to her cheek: “Love, I’ll be right back. I’m just getting a present for Hempo.“

Millie nodded, looking relieved about being able to wait outside the store: “Yes, love. Take your time.“

“See you soon.“, you waved and disappeared into the Lego store.

Millie watched as you entered, making sure that you would be busy browsing the aisles for a while before sneaking away from her spot in front of the store.

With determined steps, she walked towards a jewellers shop and started studying the rings on display.

“So you’re looking for an engagement ring?”, someone said to her right. Looking up, she saw an older man with a friendly smile who seemed eager to sell something.

“Yes. I was thinking a gold one, not too big. Something classy.“, Millie described quickly what she had in mind.

The salesperson nodded slowly and led Millie to another ring display.

“How about this one then?“

“Oh, this is beautiful.“, Millie said, taking a closer look at the filigree ring. It was almost exactly what she had imagined. A simple gold band with small oval-shaped diamond in the middle, elegant and not too flashy.

The smile on the man’s face grew wider, either because he was able to help his customer or because he was about to sell something: “Would you like me to wrap it up for you?”

“Yes, please. But no bows or anything. And I don’t need a bag, it’s supposed to be a surprise.“, Millie replied. Her gaze nervously wandered towards the clock, she’s been inside the shop for almost fifteen minutes already.

“Got it.“

Still, he took his time putting the ring into a small pillowed jewellery box while Millie waited impatiently with her credit card already in hand.

The payment was processed just in time as you entered the store after spending minutes to find her.

“Hi love, what are you doing inside here?”, you smiled at her.

“I was just looking at some earrings. Found what you were looking for?”, your girlfriend asked innocently.

You opened a huge yellow shopping bag, showing her its contents: “Yes. Look, I found this big set. Doesn’t it scream Hempo?”

“It does.“, she agreed as you left the jewellers shop together.

For a second her face whitened, fearing you might discover the rings somehow.

An amused smile appeared on your lips, while you realized. “I hope she doesn’t own it yet. Wait are those Christmas jumpers for our dogs, you know I don’t-“

“Promise me you won’t be mad.”, Millie looked at you puppy eyed  

“Only a little bit.”, you admitted releasing a deep sigh.

“They’ll look adorable in it, Lucy and Beth agree with me!”, she defended herself.

“Of course they do.”, you commented eyerolling.

“Hey, even an Arsenal player is on my side.”, the defender added in a teasing tone.

“Just because I’m a gooner doesn’t mean we’ve to share the same opinion.”, you countered.

“Oh, you don’t? I thought you all just use one brain cell together.”, a smug grin was on your girlfriends’ lips.

“Excuse me? You can sleep on the sofa tonight if you keep talking like this Bright.”, you warned her, playfully punching her in the side.

“With the dogs in their matching Christmas sweaters? I don’t mind that.”, Millie shrugged laughing whole-heartedly.

“No, they’ll sleep on your side of the bed.”, you corrected her trying your hardest not to chuckle.  

“Rude.”, the blonde pouted which looked adorable in your opinion.

“You started it.”, you reminded her smiling.

Both of you walked side by side, you left the shopping centre behind you as you made your way to the underground station.

Even after all the years you’ve lived in London now, you still got starstruck by their Christmas lights. Your girlfriend called your name and brought you back to the here and now.

“Sorry, I got distracted by the beauty of it. They’re especially pretty this year don’t you think?”, you apologized, a soft blush creeping up on your cheeks. That’s when you noticed the snowflakes falling to the earth, making the scenery even more magical.

“I couldn’t have planned it any better.”, Millie stated overjoyed.

“Planned what?”, you frowned confused.

“This.”, she replied sounding matter-of-factly, while kneeing down revealing the engagement ring which the defender had carried in her pocket all along.

“You weren’t looking for earrings.”, you muttered.

“I wasn’t. Will you marry me?”, the Chelsea player declared solemnly.

“Yes, I’ll, Millie. The ring is beautiful.”, you told her with tears in your eyes.

“You like it? I saw it and knew it had to be yours.”, Millie beamed.

“It’s so elegant, I love it.”, you answered truthfully.

“Just like you.”, the blonde whispered lovingly. She paused for a second before continuing with a cheeky smile on her face. “Now you can’t be mad about the dog sweaters anymore.”

“Oh my god.”, you groaned.

“Just joking.”, your fiancée reassured you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Let’s go home love. Also, we need to take a photo with the ring there as well as of the dogs in their Christmas jumpers for all the group chats.”, you hummed excitedly.

“We do.”, Millie agreed delighted by that prospect. When you stepped out at the underground station to walk the rest of the way home a thin layer of snow already covered the ground.  

The season would be merry and bright indeed the blonde thought to herself and she couldn’t wait for you to take her last name.

lionesses group chat

y/n just posted..

Beth: Congrats, my loves! But where did you get those cute Christmas jumpers for your dogs? Myle wants one as well!  🥰

Alex: The cutest! Congrats 😍

Lucy: About damn time that you two tie the knot!!! 😂

Ella: So happy for you! 😍

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

[ttllynotmyshyt]

The Three-Meeting theory: MEETING ONE

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,8k

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Y/n, a record store clerk in Toronto, spends a quiet day helping customers, including two YouTubers—one of whom leaves a lasting impression.

2 / 3

It was another long day at the record store — a Tuesday. One of the many that had come before and would come again. Bright sunbeams streamed through the windows, lighting up the sleeves and plastic boxes of records, revealing a thin film of dust on the shelves.

To y/n, a record store was an unusually personal place. Somewhere between the hundreds of clients she’d served, the stories they told, and the memories they shared while choosing their next purchase, she stopped seeing the covers as just artistic representations of a few pleasant-sounding wavelengths. Instead, they became symbols — snapshots of people’s most important moments. The beautiful thing about every record? Each one was someone’s favorite.

She turned to the new arrivals. The delivery, originally scheduled for early morning, had only arrived around midday. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She knew the drill: open the box, check for damage or missing content, enter each disc into the inventory, log the details, confirm pricing with her manager, tag the plastic sleeves, place them in the new arrivals section, update the online store. The most routine, unglamorous part of the job — but it paid the bills, just enough for rent, food, and the occasional treat. Not a dream paycheck, but enough for a twenty-something still finding her footing in Toronto.

The store’s owner, Vincent, was a kind man in his fifties who’d only opened the place after making money off some mysterious investment. No one ever asked what it was, as long as he paid fairly — which he did. One of the things nestled among the records in the delivery box was a thick-cover folder for the CVs that would soon pile up again, especially with summer approaching and teenagers hunting for part-time gigs. Y/n scoffed softly and set the folder aside, returning to the stack of records.

Her mind drifted briefly to the French course she’d taken mostly for fun, after her dad insisted it was essential — a deal-breaker, even — for landing a job in Canada. Surprisingly, he’d been right. Maybe it was her patience or her charisma that made her stand out to Vin, but the French sealed the deal. No one really needed a French speaker to buy vinyl in Toronto, but it sure looked good on paper.

The store was quiet. Typical for a Tuesday afternoon. A soft Miles Davis record drifted through the space, wrapping the regulars in a warm atmosphere that contrasted the cold wind outside, now stirring the falling rain. The soft tapping against the windows grew louder by the minute. Y/n looked up, watched the drops for a moment, then returned to her keyboard, entering details for the new album: a 2LP edition of Pink Floyd at Pompeii – MCMLXXII.

She wondered whose favorite this one was, and why. Maybe it played during a first kiss. Or a final goodbye. A road trip with the kids. A smoke session with a teenage dirtbag lover. Whatever the story, it had to mean something to someone.

While the printer spat out price tags, she took mental note of the doorbell chiming — something she’d check out after confirming there were no errors in the printout. She glanced up: a group of teenage girls entered. Not regulars. Their outfits were dotted with lace trims, pink bows, jean skirts, and leather bags. Laughter floated through the room. One fixed her lip gloss, another adjusted the camera she’d pulled from a tote.

Y/n smiled, bracing herself to make small talk.

Hi? Do you need any help? Nah, maybe… How may I help you today? Do you girls need anything? They probably don’t. …Are you looking for something?

She debated in her head while making her way over from behind the counter, not before placing the box she’d been working on behind it.

“Hello, do you girls need help finding anything?” she asked, her tone soft and practiced.

“Uhm, hello, actually, is it okay if we take photos here?” one of them asked, a little awkwardly — nothing she couldn’t predict.

“Of course. Just try not to include any shoppers who might not wanna be in the frame,” Y/n said, already used to it. “Looking for any albums in particular for the photo or…?”

“Thank you so much! Actually, yes. Do you guys have Lana Del Rey?”

Could’ve guessed from the outfits, Y/n thought.

“Sure. Just over by that wall,” she said, leading them over. “And if you’re taking full-body shots, stand with your back to the window. Lighting’s better from that angle.”

“Oh of course, thank you!” the girl with the camera beamed, adjusting accordingly.

“If you need anything else, I’ll be at the counter,” Y/n added, returning to her price tags. She glanced up now and then, reminding herself she wasn’t afraid of teenagers anymore.

The girls eventually left — presumably with the material for their next Instagram post stored on the SD card of their friend’s Sony.

Y/n's eyes drifted to the Lana Del Rey section. Norman Fucking Rockwell! stood out in front, pulling her back to a warm 2019 day when it came out. She let the memory linger for a few seconds before shaking it off and getting back to work.

Soon, she was done. Task crossed off the mental list. Right on cue, the doorbell chimed again. This time: two guys, roughly her age, deep in conversation. One carried a camera.

Y/n gave them a soft smile, already anticipating the question about to come.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” she asked.

“Hi, is it okay if we record in here for a video?” one of them said. He wore a T-shirt with a triangle and the words Find X. His short, dark brown hair and slightly worried expression made him look oddly approachable.

“Yeah, of course. Just avoid filming anyone who might mind being in it,” she replied. Both guys visibly relaxed.

“Thank you so much.”

“Anytime. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

They stepped away and started recording, laughing occasionally. This time around her mind drifted toward the evening — what she'd make for dinner, the feel of her cat brushing up against her leg, a warm cup of tea in her hands, and some movie she’d inevitably fall asleep watching halfway through. She busied herself with a few misplaced records, double-checked the sleeves on the side, and refreshed her mental map of the store just in case someone asked about a record she didn’t know.

When she heard footsteps nearing again, her gaze flicked toward the guys — already prepared for their return.

“Hi, sorry. Can I ask you something?” the other guy said. It was the first time she really looked at him. Dark eyes, curly hair with frosted tips. He had a posture that was both awkward and somehow relaxed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” she said, noticing the camera slightly tilted to catch her but not her face. “Oh — and I don’t mind being in the video, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

They relaxed more and adjusted the camera toward her.

“Oh, thank you. What’s your name?” the guy with frosted tips asked.

“Y/n” she replied, a little curious now. “And you are?”

“I’m Hamzah, and this is Martin,” he said, gesturing to his friend.

“Cute. Nice to meet you guys,” she smiled. “You had a question?”

“Yes. Do you know Nettspend?” Hamzah asked, totally serious.

“Nettspend?”

“Yes. The rapper?”

“I think so? I’ve heard the name,” she said, brows furrowed. “Pretty sure we’ve got a… uh, CD? Not vinyl tho.”

“Oh, really?” Hamzah’s face lit up more than she expected.

“You know what that means, bro” Martin grinned, turning the camera on himself

“Can I—wait, can we see it?” Hamzah asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Y/n led them to the aisle, skimmed a few cases, and pulled one out. “Here.”

“That’s fire, boiiii,” Hamzah said, holding it to the camera, clearly pleased.

“How much is it?” Martin asked.

“Uhh… t'says twenty Canadian,” Hamzah read from the label, glancing at Y/n. She nodded.

“I’ll hold onto that. Thank you. We’ll keep looking for now,” he said.

Y/n returned to the register while they browsed. Eventually, they came back with a few items (obviously including the Nettspend cd).

“All set?” she asked, smiling.

“Almost. Thanks,” Martin replied. This time, Hamzah held the camera.

“I was actually hoping you could give us a recommendation,” Martin added. “Just… whatever you like listening to.”

Y/n blanked. Thousands of albums lived in her head, and somehow, the only thing she could think of was that that interaction with the girls earlier.

“Uh… Lana Del Rey? Norman Fucking Rockwell, let’s say.”

She cringed slightly at how unconvincing she sounded, like she couldn’t even persuade herself she liked the album.

“Lanaa! Love that. Do you know this one?” Martin burst into off-key singing: “Tell me I’m your national antheeem!”

Y/n laughed, surprised. “Wow. That just brought a tear to my eye. Ever considered singing professionally?” she said softly.

“Yes, actually. I used to sing when I was younger,” he said deadpan.

“Really?”

“No. But thank you,” he grinned. “We’ll just take these.” he laughed softly.

She rang them up, tucked the discs and receipt into a branded bag, and handed it over.

As they slowly headed for the door, she called out, “Wait — what’s your channel called?”

“Slushy Noobz,” they said in sync.

“Slushy Noobs?”

“Noobz. With a Z,” Hamzah corrected.

“Oh, bet. Thanks again. You guys made my day, Slushy Noobz. Hope you love what you bought.”

“I bet we will,” Hamzah said.

“And no, thank you!” Martin added, dragging the last word with a smirk. “Ay, shout out to the…” — he glanced at the sign — “shout out to Sonic freaking Boom. Sonic Boom, Toronto. Amazing. Guys, go show them some love,” he said to the camera

a/n: this is my first time writing since 2019 and back then i wasn't even writing in English so i hope this is actually any bearable. also parts 2 & 3 will be more interesting dw. Do give feedback.

[kumkaniudaku]

Back Up

Summary: Terry gets much needed back up during a Christmas shopping outing.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Previous: Spoiled

MASTERLIST

Bodies whipping past each other in a crowded department store made an already exhausting shopping session all the more uncomfortable for Terry. He hated being forced to mingle with the public, scooting past rude customers as they selfishly took up space between messy clothing racks and disheveled aisles. He’d already said more expletives than his mother would enjoy if she were with him and Patrice searching for gifts to round out their early Christmas haul. 

His wife had coaxed him out of the house with promises of his favorite hot meal and one of those Korean face masks he pretended to only kind of like for his willingness to act as her hired muscle for the afternoon. Lugging big boxed items and not so subtly shoving grown men who stepped in her path was his primary task. And, for the work he’d done in two hours, it had to be enough to earn a kiss or two as a reward for good behavior. 

Patrice and Terry stood side by side as she carefully and quietly scanned a printed spreadsheet lined with multiple names and items. 

“Hey, boo, did you see if that juicer back there was marked down? I wanna grab it for Mama.” 

Terry tinkered with the buttons on a display air fryer and shook his head. “I wasn’t looking, but everything in here seems to be on sale. Need me to go back for you? I don’t mind.”

Despite his disdain for the current circumstances, he’d gleefully double back to fulfill Patrice’s wishes. She reached out to stroke his muscled arm as a thank you for his effort.

“No, that’s okay, baby. How about you meet me over by the tableware instead so we can divide and conquer? I need to grab a new cutlery set so we can throw ours out and then get out of here. Promise. I know you’re ready to eat.”

“And go the hell home,” he grumbled. “I don’t understand how you deal with all this.”

His deep scowl, usually a deterrent for strangers looking to avoid conflict, only made him look like an adorable petulant child to Patrice. A grin spread across her face as she approached him to smooth her palms across his broad chest. 

“I know, Pooh. You’re doing a great job, though. All cute and patient for me.” 

Praise from her for even the simplest tasks never failed to switch off his defenses and soften his heart into jelly. If asked, he’d vehemently deny that he enjoyed being cooed at like a child, but Patrice caught the uncontrollable happy twinkle in his eye as she pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

He attempted to regain his composure to save face. “You’re talkin’ to me like a baby.”

“Not just any baby. You’re my baby.” More pecks on his stubbled jaw made Terry groan and roll his eyes as he slowly gave in. Sweet talk had prevailed and he was back to being wrapped around her ring finger like the shining wedding band she’d been wearing for a little over a month. She pinched his cheek and smiled in triumph knowing the battle was won. “I’ll be quick, I’ll promise. Two minutes!”

“So we cool with only two minutes now?”

Patrice mirrored Terry’s cheeky grin as she backed away in search of her final gift for the afternoon, leaving him proud of his suggestive joke. 

He prayed they could hit 120 seconds on the dot for the first time in their lives. His feet ached. His stomach growled louder than the Michael Bublé songs playing over the store’s speakers. His patience was thin. If he wasn’t in the comfort of home within 45 minutes, he’d have to introduce the public to a version of Terry no one should have to meet. 

Following Patrice’s instructions, Terry mosied toward a glittering section full of discounted crystal and fine china. Where others saw Patrice as a complex maze of desires, feelings, and unmeetable demands, Terry knew exactly what she liked. Natural textures and earthy tones kept their home grounded in nature to match her love for the small flower garden she kept in the backyard. Every kitchen accessory, big and small, revolved around the coveted ivory dinner set she purchased with her first check as an educator. Forks and spoons would be no different. Terry didn’t need another hand slap and stern lecture to learn that lesson.

His fingers tracked option after option on cluttered shelves until he found two sets of flatware that fit her strict specifications. Sleek? Check. Matching her favorite plates and blows? Got it. He prided himself on making her decisions easier and this latest attempt was his best to date.  

Grabbing the first set was a piece of cake. He slid it from the shelf with no issue to place into the already-packed shopping basket. The second attempt came with a struggle as another, much daintier hand attempted to tug his wife’s prize from his grasp. 

Terry looked down to find a small, frail older woman with ivory skin and a tight frown looking back at him with contempt. He tugged a little harder, but she pulled back. 

Not wanting to cause a scene for fear of being seen as the angry Black man terrorizing fellow patrons, he tried placating the older woman with a polite smile and disarming chuckle. “This is for my wife, actually. You know how that goes. I’m happy to give it to you if she chooses otherwise, though.” 

The attempt at a friendly tone and winning smile did little to deter his unlikely adversary. What charm he thought he possessed only seemed to make her angrier. She eyed him up and down, thin lips twisted into an indignant smile as she attempted to nab the item a second time to no avail. 

“But you already have one,” she complained, pointing at the item in his basket. “You can’t have another.” 

“I’m not trying to have two. She’ll make a decision and put back what she doesn’t want.”

“So, you’re just gonna hold it?” 

Terry regarded her with a blank stare. “…Yes.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Will you be the one to stop me or what?” 

There wasn’t much left in Terry’s tank for niceties. Greying hair and crepey skin wouldn’t do much to stop a tongue-lashing if static was what she was after. 

The woman stood firm, reaching to grab the item from Terry’s hand but missing when he snatched it back. She raised her voice. “I’m going to have security come over here and make you give it up.”

“Ma’am, I truly do not care who you call. Stop trying to put your hands on me.” 

“Or what?” She was challenging a nearly unshakeable man. He didn’t budge and it left her incensed. She attempted another angle. “Call your wife over here. Go on! I want to talk to her face to face.” 

He scoffed and shook his head. “Nah. You don’t want that. Call security. It’s better for everyone involved.”

“Call her over here!”

“I’m not about to let you piss her off and ruin the rest of my day. Let’s figure something out.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, the kind of trouble she was welcoming into her life. Terry tried to reason with her. He tried to compromise to keep the peace. But, as Patrice rounded the corner to find an unfamiliar woman embroiled in a verbal tussle with her man, time had just run out. 

“Oh, no ma’am,” Patrice started with the look of a protective mother in her eyes. “You better figure that out and quick. We’re not playing that game. What’s the problem?” 

Fear gripped the older woman as Patrice approached. Terry slowly placed the second set of utensils in the basket and scoffed. Whatever happened next was up to God and whoever his newest foe served.

“I told you,” Terry reminded, shaking his head. “Good luck.”

“Is this your husband?” 

Patrice moved to stand in front of Terry with the juicer in tow, acting as a human shield. She spoke low and slow. “And what about him? What exactly is your issue?” 

Terry watched the exchange with bated breath. Her calmness was a war tactic she employed to size up her enemy. At any moment she might explode and leave you shell-shocked.

“He has two sets of flatware in that cart saying he’s waiting on you to decide. That’s not fair! Choose one,” the woman accused, her voice rising in a feeble attempt to intimidate Patrice.

“That’s not how shopping works! We’ll buy every single one of these motherfuckers if we want to! Who gon’ stop us?”

“With cash, too,” Terry mumbled in support.

The woman clutched invisible pearls, feining disgust at the use of adult language. “What a foul mouth! That is not the way you speak to people. Especially not your elders. ” 

“Baby, if you keep talking to this one behind me crazy, my mouth will be the last thing you need to worry about.”

“Is that a threat?” 

She should’ve prayed for a threat. A threat would’ve been the easy way out - a free pass to avoid making an enemy of someone with such an intense passion for using quick wit and a slick tongue to eviscerate her opponents. 

Patrice calmly turned to thrust the heavy juicer into Terry’s arms without a word before turning to make her point clear. He shook his head in pity. Poor woman. She’d tell this story to her family at dinner later, looking for sympathy when what she really needed was the foresight to recognize when she encountered the verbal assassin he called his better half.

Silently, he mouthed Patrice’s favorite opening statement in time with the words leaving her lips.

“Let me tell you something.” Terry smiled to himself, knowing he had her down to a science. Patrice pointed a manicured finger in her direction for extra emphasis. “I’m sure we’ll never meet again, but hopefully this will help you the next time you think about running up on someone you don’t know. Don’t you ever holler at my husband or your ass’ll have to cash that check your mouth wrote this afternoon. Have I made myself clear or are you so deprived of the sense God gave you that you need a demonstration?”

This time, Patrice’s heavy suggestion to drop the issue before it could escalate and retreat to another section of the store was received with renewed clarity. The woman huffed in defeat. Terry and Patrice watched her reluctantly pluck another option from the shelf and scurry away with her tail between her legs. Patrice tracked her with her eyes and a scowl that looked just like her husband’s on her face until the coast was clear. 

Terry watched her try to physically reset by rolling her shoulders down and back, but her face betrayed her once she turned to face him. 

She reached for the sets of cutlery and examined both under harsh fluorescent light. “These are nice. I think I like the left more though.” 

“Treece.” 

“Mmm, but the left is a little bulky now that I look at it. Maybe the right? Which one did you like?” 

“Patrice.” Terry used his index finger to tilt Patrice’s head upward and redirect her attention. The corners of his lips lifted into a small smile before leaning down to kiss her nose. “Thank you, Piggy. I had it, but I love when you back me up. What you want as repayment tonight?” 

“Mmmm, my feet hurt a little. Think you can work your magic?” 

He hummed in response. “I was gonna do that anyway for myself. Pick something else.”

“I want you to help me pick eating utensils so we can get out of here,” Patrice laughed to discharge the tension growing between them. “Left or right?”

“The left is my choice. But I’ll buy every single one of these motherfuckers in here if you want ‘em.”

His callback had both of them dissolving into a fit of giggles that only stopped once another patron browsing the aisle forced them to make a quick decision and make a move to return to their side of town. 

In the car, Patrice playfully jabbed a finger into Terry’s arm as they pulled out into mall traffic. “Don’t you go tellin’ my mama and daddy about this. I don’t have time for their mouths today. And stop letting people talk to you crazy in the first place. I’m serious, Terry.”

“Yes ma’am. You have made yourself abundantly clear.” 

“Shut up!” 

Silly jokes about the absurdity of hemming up an old woman passed between the pair as they sat in a bumper-to-bumper jam were interrupted by an incoming call on the car’s Bluetooth system. 

“How you doin’ mama,” Terry answered as soon as the call connected, leaving Patrice to entertain herself. “I got Treece in the car. You know she threatened to stop feeding me if I didn’t go shopping with her. Crazy, ain’t it?” 

“That’s what she should do! No way she should be out there with all these holiday crazies by herself.” 

Patrice nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Ms. Dee. You get the biggest gift under the tree this year.” 

“Oh, thank you, Treecey Girl!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Terry interjected. “Treecey is a holiday crazy! Let me tell you how she just threatened an old lady about some forks and knives today.”

“Terrence, don’t sit up here and lie. My girl is way too sweet for that.”

“Hand to God, mama. Almost body slammed somebody’s grandma.” Terry bore all of his teeth in an impish grin as Patrice’s eyes grew wide. 

“Snitch,” she mouthed at him before responding to Diedra. “Okay, threatened is an over-simplification. She was yelling at your son and I stepped in!” 

“Yelling!? Girl, start at the top.” 

The message ‘I can’t stand you’ typed into a note and flashed in his direction made Terry choke back laughter as he listened to Patrice defend her actions. Though he knew what he was doing, in his mind, she should’ve been more specific in her instruction. 

She never said he couldn’t tell his mama.

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