#section bending machine

[vaspider]

Listen to me. Listen very carefully:

They are trying to wear you out.

They are trying to wear you out, and they own most major social media now, along with many major media outlets. The disinformation machine is cranking along. You are going to have to slow the fuck down and read things before you help them wear out other people, too.

So you just saw a post about a real scary bill, hunh? Republicans want to make it a capital offense to pet dogs and repeal The Sky Is Blue Act of 1793, declaring the new official color of the sky to be squant? Damn, that sounds scary.

Let's go look up this fictitious "Make The Sky Squant Again Act" on GovTracker* & on the official legislative tracker on congress.gov!

Well, let's see... GovTracker estimates it has a 1% chance of even getting out of committee and a 0% chance of being enacted, while congress.gov says this bill has 2 cosponsors who have been in the House and combined total of less than a month. The bill doesn't have any actual text, and it was referred to 5 different committees.

That fictitious bill and a hundred others like it are quite literally not worth your time, and more than that, continuing to wring your hands about it and tell other people about the scary scary squant sky bill only does their work for them. It scares people, it makes them spend time and energy on it, and it wears them out. It is a legislative Gish Gallop, meant to throw so many things at people that we can't keep up.

Even calling or messaging your Rep in this case means their staffer has to waste time responding to you and letting you know that Representative Buttzonheads definitely won't support making petting dogs a capital offense, a thing that will never, ever happen regardless.

Staying engaged in this environment is going to require protecting your heart and protecting your energy, yes, but also protecting the energy of others. This is why WWII propaganda posters also included ones taking people to task for spreading panicky rumors and undermining morale.

Do you know why most observant Jews don't eat chicken and dairy together, even though the ban is on red meat and dairy together bc you're not supposed to cook the calf in the milk of its mother?** It's not because we think that chicken might secretly lactate or Just Because. It's because the rabbis decided that if I'm sitting out in public and eating turkey and cheese together, someone might glance at the turkey and mistake it for red meat and think, "oh, well, I know that Spider is a good Jew, there must have been a change, or maybe I can just justify it to myself that if Spider does it, it must be permissible to bend the rules just that much." And I would then be accidentally leading my fellow Jew astray. We are responsible for being even more careful for the sake of others than we are for ourselves.

It's the same principle here. We need to really be careful about the information we are spreading and check things past reading a news site. Is it true? Is it relevant? Is it meaningful? Is the news site one I recognize? Can I find meaningful independent corroboration on another site, which is to say, if I find an article about it on a second site, is it just quoting or rephrasing this site?

Yeah, that is a lot. But that's how we keep them from using us to lead our fellows astray.

*GovTracker is an independent site. They explain their methodology in their About section.

**I cannot say enough how I am not at this time interested in going on a Jewish Side Quest About Dietary Laws on this post. Usually, I love it, but hold off this time, please, y'all. Let's stay on target this once.

[angelacostumery]

Guess who finished another corset? (it's ME)

This guy comes from a 1874 pattern (specifically this one)

I made some not-so-minor additions to the pattern since most corsets run very small and I am not.

This was a rare occasion where the first mock up was way too big, but it still showed some promise!

(or maybe I just have low standards? idk)

The second mockup was made from denim, here is it straight off the sewing machine.

I took it in quite a bit because the back edges were touching which is a no-no. The gap here is much more preferable but it still had, um, issues...

I could basically fold the cups down and completely expose myself. More boning will help with that, but the gores had to be taken in, too.

This was the third fitting that day and it kind of looks th same but with more markings on it, so I did something I guess.

I made a new pattern based on that and then blah blah blah lots of sewing/cording/boning/progress.

More progress, all the boning added, binding done, etc.

Finally had enough progress to baste in closures and do another fitting. Some parts of this looked good. Other parts, however...

See typically you don't want the neckline to gape like two inches away from the boob.

So when adding the trim I also gathered that bit down. You can add a drawstring to accomplish this but the corded sections were so thick I didn't see that working well.

The end result is much, much better.

And that was about it. Obviously, there were a lot of steps to constructing this and hopefully, I will have a video up about that this weekend, but most of the pictures I took were about the fit so that's what I have to offer here.

There is some rippling, it isn't perfect by any means. But I think I can use the excuse of being out of practice for this one and I will take full advantage of that.

This is quite comfortable to wear and very light (cotton over lightweight canvas with buckram, corded, and boned elements for structure..)

I used d-rings at the center back instead of eyelets since I have always found eyelets prone to ripping out over time, no matter how I attempt to prevent that from happening. Worse case these rings will bend and can be replaced.

This was my first time trying it on since "finishing it" -- will aim for a more even lacing gap next time and wear it with a chemise, I just wanted to highlight the fit difference in the bust which is most notable when against bare skin.

I really like the line of the back and front silhouette, and think this cups my stomach better than any I've made in the past. There is still a bit of a gap at the bottom edge, so I might bend the busk a bit more to resolve that.

But overall, a much better result than I anticipated.

[vbecker10]

Bucky's Favorite Person

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N - not dating... yet?)

Summary: Bucky dislikes how the team is taking advantage of you while your bosses are out and decides to take matters into his own hands to help you relax.

A/N: I'm supposed to be working on a lot of other things but my brain decided to do this instead... I've been kicking this idea around for a while and it won't leave me alone so I need to write it just to get it out of. I hope you all like it ❤️

Sitting at the end of the oval table in the conference room, you glance anxiously at your watch. If this meeting ends on time, I should have exactly fifteen minutes before my next one. I think that'll be enough time to head upstairs and make another cup of coffee. Your leg bounces under the desk restlessly while you listen to Agent Hill wrap up the meeting.

"Remember, if you need to order any new tech, equipment or weaponry, Y/N will be able to help," she says and you force a smile as you close your laptop.

Yay me, you think sarcastically when all of the Avengers look in your direction briefly before getting up.

You're not supposed to be the go-to person for requests of this type but for the last two weeks, you have been running the Supply Chain Subsection of the Logistics Division for SHIELD. Your manager is on maternity leave for the next few months and as luck would have it, the day after she left the section director was called away for jury duty. The decision was then made to place the most senior analyst in charge of the supply chain for the foreseeable future and that just so happened to be you.

You sigh deeply as you skim through the emails on your phone, nearly a dozen new requests have been submitted since you checked this morning. I should just deny all of them at once and close my inbox, you think when you begin to see duplicate forms and requests you've already refused to approve this week. You know you can't though. As acting head of supply chain, you need to formally respond to each with a detailed explanation of why it was denied. With your head down and your attention still on your phone, you enter the kitchen and walk straight to your favorite appliance in the Tower.

You let out a surprised yelp as you walk directly into what feels like a very muscular wall, causing you to drop your phone but thankfully not your laptop. "Oh crap, I'm really sorry," you apologize quickly when you realize you've bumped into a super soldier and not an immovable object. Taking a step back, you watch Bucky's metal fingers wrap gently around your phone before you even think to bend down and get it yourself.

"It's okay," he says when his eyes meet yours, your stress melting quickly when he smiles.

"Thanks," you can't stop the nervous giggle that escapes you when his vibranium hand brushes against your warm skin when you take your phone back. Between the unbroken eye contact and his unbearably cute smile, you briefly forget why you came into the kitchen in the first place. It's not until he talks again that you remember your mission to get coffee.

"Long day?" he asks with a lighthearted chuckle.

"Very long," you answer, walking past him towards the coffee maker.

Bucky walks away, taking a seat at the island with an open book and a drink from the fridge but you focus on the task at hand. You open the drawer that holds the coffee pods and quickly select your usual, happy to see there are plenty to get you through the rest of the week. Before you can put the pod in the machine, a familiar voice causes you to turn around.

"It's a little better now that you saw me though right?" Bucky jokes from behind you.

You smile and answer him in a sarcastic tone, "Of course, because you're my favorite person." You keep up your long standing joke with your crush, hoping he can't tell you're being honest or that just hearing him laugh made your day ten times better.

"Hey Y/N, the request Peter and I submitted for new lab equipment got denied," Bruce complains. "Again. It's like the third time. Can you see what's going on?"

"Sure, have him send in another one and I'll see what I can do," you offer even though you are the one who keeps refusing to sign off on it when the form crosses your desk. The new equipment he is asking for is almost twice his department's budget for the quarter, there's no way my bosses would ever approve it if they were here, you think. I'm pretty sure that's why he waited until they were out to request it in the first place. This also confirms my theory that no one reads the rejection emails I send cause I already told him why I denied it.

"Great, thanks," he smiles as he leaves. "You're the best."

"Yep," you mumble and turn back to the coffee maker, pushing the button but nothing happens.

You groan and push it again as you begin to get frustrated when Bucky says, "You didn't put the coffee in."

A blush spreads across your cheeks at the realization that he's watching you struggle from the island instead of reading. "Right, thanks," you look at him briefly over your shoulder to see him smiling then open the top to add the coffee. "That's why you're my favorite, always keeping an eye on me," you joke as you push the button for a third time then look up when someone calls your name from the doorway.

"Sorry to bother you here but I know you have a ton of meetings this afternoon," your intern bites her lip anxiously, holding her tablet tightly to her chest.

"It's fine," you offer her a smile knowing she's probably just as stressed as you are since her first day was also your managers last day. "What do you need?"

She let's out a breath of relief then walks closer to you quickly. "I have a question about this form Thor sent, he marked it urgent but I don't know why. Would you be able to help me?"

"Of course," you take the tablet from her and read it over quickly, shaking your head then you give it back to her. "Forward this to me and I'll take care of it."

"Thanks!" she smiles and types on the tablet while exiting the kitchen.

You can't help but look towards the island and notice Bucky's eyes on you instead of his book. "It's the second time this week Thor has ordered pop tarts and claimed they were necessary equipment for a mission," you explain, shaking your head lightly.

He chuckles, "If you've been around Thor when he's hungry you know they absolutely are."

"He's still not getting them," you laugh then pick up your coffee mug and take a sip. Scrunching your nose, you set the mug down and open the drawer to find the sugar you forgot to add.

"Hey, just who I was looking for," the newest member of the Avengers says as he walks over to you.

"Hi Scott," you try not to seem annoyed by yet another interruption during your very short break. "What can I do for you?" You stir your coffee after adding the sugar, blowing on it lightly before taking a sip and setting it back down.

"I tried filling out that form to request a new suit but I can't figure it how to submit it," he shrugs. "All the little code boxes turn red but I don't know where to get any of that information. Clint said to just send it to you and you'd fill it out for me."

You force yourself not to roll your eyes then tell him, "I'm really not supposed to fill out the request forms for you guys. That kind of defeats the purpose." He frowns as you begin to explain the reasoning behind the process but your phone beeps, alerting you that your next meeting is starting in five minutes. "Just send it over and I'll take a look. I gotta go."

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," he calls after you as you leave quickly and head down the hall.

It's not until you push the button for the elevator that you realize you're holding your laptop in one hand and your phone in your other hand. "Crap," you mumble when the doors open, knowing you don't have enough time to go back for your coffee.

Staring at your computer screen, you pinch the bridge of your nose when you hear a knock on the door. Oh come on, it's almost 5. Can't I get out of here on time just once, you wonder as you tell the mystery person to come in.

"Hey Y/N," Bucky's friendly voice fills your office and you relax for a moment until you see he's holding two coffee mugs.

"Hi," you sink into your chair a little as he comes closer to your desk. "What do you need help with?"

"Nothing," he answers, setting one cup down in front of you.

"Come on Bucky, you only bring me things when you need something," you slide the mug closer while he sits across from you.

"Oh, I didn't realize that," he responds a little hesitantly.

"Don't worry about it, it's why you're my favorite person here," you say with your typical sarcastic tone and the smile reappears on Bucky's face. "But it's only cause you bring me snacks when you have questions," you remind him playfully.

Last week he came to your office with a strawberry donut, telling you they were leftover from a morning briefing. While in your office, he just so happened to mention that he needed a replacement part for his bike and couldn't figure out how to fill out the forms. The super soldier has brought you cookies, coffee, pastries and a few other treats over the last couple of months and it's where you're joke about him being your favorite began. You truthfully never mind when Bucky has questions or issues, even if he didn't bring you a little treat in return for your help. He is the only person you work with who seems to value your time and apologizes for not being able to keep up with the newer systems.

"Well I don't have any questions this time I promise. I just dropped by to make sure you got your coffee fix," he explains and you hide your widening smile behind your mug. "I know it's late but every time I checked, you were in a meeting."

Taking a sip, you sigh happily when you realize he made it exactly the way you like it. "This is perfect, thanks Bucky," you smile and he grins proudly. A loud knock on your door pulls your attention away from the super soldier and you miss how quickly his smile fades. "Come in," you call hoping whoever it is doesn't need anything important.

"Hey Y/N, oh... and Bucky," Tony greets you both as he walks in.

You take another sip of your coffee, not wanting it to get cold since Bucky went through the trouble of hand delivering it to you. "Hi, what's up Tony?"

"I just sent in a handful of requests for some tech upgrades and your intern said you aren't going to get to them until tomorrow," he says in a disappointed tone.

"Oh yeah," you agree with your intern's response to him. "You sent..." you turn to open a few windows on your screen, "...twelve requests. A little more than a handful, it's gonna take me a while to go through all of them."

"I really need an answer on them tonight," Tony stands right behind Bucky who is holding his mug tightly in his metal hand.

"Tonight?" you check the clock on your desktop and sigh then look back at him. "Sure, yeah I guess I could work late again-"

"You've worked late every night for the last two weeks," Bucky interrupts your response. While you wonder if you complained to him about that and forgot he adds, "Whatever you need can wait until tomorrow."

"It'll only take a few hours and it's not like she doesn't get paid overtime," Tony counters and instead of Bucky letting you agree like you were going to do, he stands up to face Tony.

"I'm taking Y/N to dinner. She can deny whatever ridiculous requests for equipment you don't need in the morning because we both know you and everyone else keeps asking for things her bosses would never approve of," his words take you by complete surprise but thankfully it doesn't seem like he's expecting a response from either of you. "Grab your coat," he turns to you with that cute smile you can't get enough of and you nod, closing your laptop as you blush.

"I- uh... yeah, tomorrow is fine," Tony takes a step towards the door but Bucky's already forgotten he's in your office.

"So, where would you like to go?" he asks and you barely notice the door closing when he moves next to you behind your desk.

Giggling at his sudden closeness, you look up at him, "Honestly, I'm just excited to eat a meal that's not at my desk. You can pick since it was your idea to go out for a date." Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you shake your head, "Dinner, I mean dinner, sorry."

He smiles and cups your cheek gently with his metal fingers, "It's a date Y/N and don't worry, I think I know just where I want to take you."

"Oh really?" you ask, trying to sound calmer than you really are when his other hand settles on your lower back and he pulls you closer.

"Yep," he leans closer to you and just when you think he's going to kiss you he pulls back with a smirk, "But it's a secret. Come on, if we stay here any longer someone else might have a question for you."

You agree quickly and giggle when he takes your hand and leads you out of your office. While you wait for the elevator, Bucky let's go of your hand to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer. Smiling, you look up at him and joke, "Is this cause I said you were my favorite person?"

He chuckles, "It's because you're my favorite person."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[ne0mile]

against policy

HR rep!Jaemin x coworker!reader

Everybody hates HR reps. Especially those who take their jobs seriously. That's why Jaemin does not have the best reputation among certain employees. He's serious about applying strict policies and not making any exceptions. So Jaemin knows that office dating is prohibited. He does. Yet, he can't seem to completely brush you off whenever you bat your eyelashes at him.

warnings: smut !minors DNI!, elevator sex, unprotected sex

wordcount: 3,4k

AN: this is part of the business casual series, can’t wait to write more of those! Also I’m sorry guys ik I’m always writing for Mark or Jaemin but the brainrot is real😵‍💫

૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა ૮꒰ ˶ ༝ •˶꒱ა "૮꒰˶•⤙•˶꒱ა

Na Jaemin could have been the most beloved person in the office.

He had the charm—effortlessly magnetic, the kind of smile that made interns trip over their own feet. He had the looks—tall, unfairly pretty, with a sharp jawline that looked like it was carved just to make your breath hitch. And he had the presence—smooth, confident, the kind of man who could command a room without even trying.

If only he weren’t such a rule-enforcing nightmare.

While the other HR reps barely glanced at the company handbook, Jaemin treated office policy like sacred text. No personal calls? He’d walk by desks like a police officer, pausing just long enough to make the offender hang up. Dress code violations? He’d actually print out the policy and slide it onto the offender’s keyboard with a polite, "Just a reminder." And office relationships? 

Absolutely forbidden.

He was the sheriff of Neo Corp, and the entire office was his wild west.

Which is why the moment he stepped onto the main floor, whispers followed, as they always did.

"Ugh, he’s doing rounds again."

"I swear, if he tells me one more time to stop eating at my desk—"

"Who even cares about this job this much?"

But then there was you.

While everyone else groaned or avoided eye contact, you just… smiled at him. Leaned back in your chair. Let your gaze linger a little too long when he passed by.

And don’t get this wrong, Jaemin prided himself on his self-control.

He didn’t bend the rules. Didn’t make exceptions. Didn’t let distractions—no matter how pretty—get in the way of his job.

And he hated how much you were testing him.

It started small. A little wave when he walked by. Nothing too crazy. A playful tilt of your head when he caught you five minutes late from your lunch break. Then it escalated—lingering touches when handing him files, biting your lip to hide a smirk when he scolded someone nearby.

Today, you decided to try something different. 

You were leaning against the copier, pretending to struggle with a paper jam. Jaemin sighed. Your skirt was at the very limit of what was decent, and he’d seen you use that machine perfectly fine a dozen times before.

"Need help..." you asked innocently as he approached.

Jaemin exhaled through his nose one more time. "You’re doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?" You blinked up at him, all wide-eyed, but the curve of your lips gave you away.

He knew he should walk away. Knew he should reprimand you for wasting company time and urge you to go back to your desk. But instead, his hands moved on their own, reaching past you to "fix" the machine, close enough that his chest nearly brushed against your back.

"You're aware falsifying equipment issues is a violation of—"

"Policy 4.7B, section three," you finished for him, grinning when his eyes narrowed. "But if I was really faking..." You leaned in slightly as he reached past you to open the tray, "...wouldn't that mean you're enabling me by playing along?"

His fingers froze on the copier handle.

The office was watching. He could feel the stares on his back and immediately scolded himself internally.

Only to add more to his demise and push his buttons further, you whispered, "Careful, Jaemin. Someone might think you’re breaking your own rules."

Damn it.

By lunchtime, the copier incident had been discussed by every single person present in the company building. 

And by the time the holiday party rolled around, chit-chat hadn’t stopped.

The party was in full swing when you arrived - cheap disco lights throwing colours across the accounting team's awkward dancing, a sad cheese platter on a table... It was tragic, really, but everyone was here to make the most of it. So were you.

The entire office was there, buzzing with the kind of forced cheer that only free alcohol could bring. And there, by the fire exit like a man awaiting sentencing: Jaemin, tie slightly loosened, drink untouched in his hand.

You approached him like a predator would its prey. Stopping right in front of him, you brought the glass you just picked up to your glossy lips. You smirked, staring at him up and down as you took a sip of your drink.

"You’ve been ignoring me," you said.

"I’ve been working," he corrected, his voice tight. 

"Mmm, well then you should probably write me up for inappropriate footwear…" You pointed to your black, shiny heels. 

The tone of your voice, the look in your eyes… It was all too much. Jaemin took pride in the way he did his job. He really did. No matter what his reputation among his colleagues was. But with you, it was like the devil had sent his best vessel to seduce and distract him from the right path. 

His jaw clenched.

"Policy 3.2, subsection—"

"Stop," he cut you off, his voice harsher than usual. "Just stop."

You blinked. "Stop what?"

He set his drink down and grabbed yours to do the same. "This. Whatever game you’re playing, this ends today."

Before you could argue, Jaemin grabbed your elbow and steered you toward the elevator. 

This has been going on for too long. He had to take matters into his own hands.

Mark and Chenle were chatting close to the elevator, so Jaemin pushed you inside. There was no way he would let anyone see him in that state, having this conversation. 

The doors slid shut behind you with a soft ding, sealing you both in the quiet, metallic space.

You leaned casually against the railing, watching him press the button for the top floor. "Running away from the party, already? That’s not very team-building of you."

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "We need to talk."

"Ooh," you stepped forward to trace a finger along his tie. "Am I in trouble?" You asked, tilting your head. 

Jaemin exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing at his sides. "You’ve been doing this for weeks," he stated, voice low. "The looks. The touching. The—" His eyes flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. "You know exactly what you’re doing."

You hummed, letting your finger trail up to the knot of his tie. "And if I do?" Pressing closer, you watched his pupils dilate. "What are you going to do about it, Officer Jaemin?"

His breath hitched. One large hand came up to circle your wrist, stopping your teasing movements. "This," he bit out, "is exactly what I'm talking about."

You could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. "You could always report me," you whispered, raising your chin. 

Jaemin's grip tightened fractionally. "Don't tempt me."

"Or…" you trailed off, your face now impossibly close to his. "You could—"

The elevator chose that moment to lurch violently.

Lights flickered as the car shuddered to an abrupt stop, sending you stumbling forward. Right into Jaemin's chest.

His arms instinctively wrapped themselves around you, pressing you closer against him. 

It took only a few seconds for you to regain your composure. You looked up at him. He looked just a bit distressed. Startled. Jaemin didn’t like inconveniences, unforeseen events. He needed to be in control. At all times.

"Taking advantage of the moment, huh?" You grinned, partially to tease him but mostly to get him to relax. 

His eyebrows knit together, and he released you in a heartbeat, taking a few steps back, although the space in the elevator didn’t allow for many. 

"You’re impossible," he muttered.

You grinned. "You like it."

Ignoring you, he turned around, facing the numbered buttons. As if he could fix that, too. 

There was an alarm button, at least there had been, because it was now covered by a taped piece of paper that read: "out of service". 

"Renjun was stuck as well last month," you recalled, following his gaze. "He’s claustrophobic, so he panicked and smashed the button. You even gave him a lecture on damaging company supplies, remember?"

He did. 

Now, Jaemin was growing restless. He nervously ran his hands through his hair, disheveling that always-put-together look a bit more. 

"What do we do now?" he groaned. "I told Mr Park to have the elevator reviewed last month. I told him…" 

"Someone will end up realising the elevator is stuck," you shrugged, letting your body lazily slide down the wall. 

Wrong. Everyone was partying and getting drunk. That would probably be an eternity before anyone needs the elevator. 

But Jaemin could not stay like this. Trapped in a cage with a hungry lion.

He needed to get out. Before his resolve completely crumbled. 

Your eyes followed him intently. He was examining every inch of the walls and ceiling, looking for a solution. Anescape. 

"It's so hot in here," you exhaled, your hands reaching for the buttons of your shirt as you now sat on the floor. Jaemin's eyes stuck to your fingertips as you unbuttoned two of them. 

"Yn," he called. His voice was stern, at least he tried to make it so. In reality, it was more breathless. 

Without him really wanting to, his eyes drifted inevitably to the exposed skin of your chest. He could see the inviting swell of your breasts and the black lacy cups concealing them. 

Jaemin's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Button that back up," he ordered, but the command lacked its usual authority. His voice came out strained, almost hoarse.

You tilted your head, letting one finger trail along the exposed skin just above your bra. "Why? It's hot. Unless..." You licked your lips slowly. " ...It's bothering you?"

His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jumping. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Maybe." You stretched your legs out, watching his gaze drop to your thighs before he forcibly wrenched it away. "But you’re the one looking."

The elevator suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. Jaemin tugged at his collar, his usually pristine tie now slightly crooked.

His breathing had gone shallow, chest rising and falling in quick bursts as he paced the limited space like a caged animal.

"You know," you mused, rolling up the hem of your skirt just an inch, "we could be here for hours. Might as well make the best of it."

Jaemin made a strangled noise from the back of his throat, and with defeat wearing on his face, he sank down the wall across you as well. 

His normally perfect posture had collapsed into something far more human, with his legs folding awkwardly in the confined space, elbows resting on raised knees, tie loosened, that always-impeccable hair now mussed from his nervous hands running through it.

"You look stressed," you purred, leaning on, deliberately letting more of your bra peek out from beneath your unbuttoned shirt. "Should I give you a neck massage? HR policy doesn't say anything about coworkers helping each other relax..."

Jaemin's knuckles turned white where they gripped his knees. "Stop." The word came out strangled. "Just...stop talking."

He sighed once more before he let out a nervous chuckle. "You’re going to be the death of me. Seriously."

"What a way to go," you shifted onto your hands and knees, crawling toward him with slow, deliberate movements. The fabric of your skirt rode up your thighs, the click of your nails against the elevator floor the only sound besides his ragged breathing.

His eyes darkened as you approached, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching.

You stopped just inches from him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth, you stared intently into his pretty eyes. "How about you—"

Jaemin had had enough. He already told you to stop talking. So before you could even finish your sentence, his control snapped.

One hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck as he yanked you forward, his mouth crashing onto yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and barely restrained frustration, on both ends. 

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed closer, your knee sliding between his thighs. He growled, the sound vibrating against your lips. 

Jaemin's grip on you tightened as your lips found the sensitive skin beneath his jaw, his breath hitching when you nipped lightly at his pulse point.

"We shouldn't—" His protest was weak, voice already ragged as your tongue traced the column of his throat. His fingers flexed against your hip, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

"This is against policy..." he managed, though it came out more like a plea than a warning.

You smirked against his skin, dragging your teeth over the spot that made him shudder. "Fire me, then," you whispered, the words hot against his neck.

A broken groan escaped him, his resolve crumbling as your hands slid beneath his shirt, nails scraping lightly over the taut muscles of his abdomen. He was unravelling beneath your touch. His perfect composure, his rigid control, all of it dissolving into desperate, hungry need.

"Fuck—" His head fell back against the elevator wall with a thud as your knee pressed more insistently between his thighs, his hips jerking instinctively.

You could feel his hard-on straining against his slacks, could hear the way his breathing turned uneven and shallow. His hands, once so restrained, now roamed greedily-one tangling in your hair to yank your head back, the other gripping the curve of your ass to pull you flush against him.

You laughed, breathless, rolling your hips against him just to watch his composure shatter further. "You should reallypunish me," you taunted, fingers working at his belt with practised ease. "Show me how strict you can be."

Jaemin didn't need to be told twice. Not anymore.

His slacks were shoved down in one rough motion, your skirt pushed up around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly against the elevator wall.

To be fair, you did use all his patience, and you were needy too. So you weren’t mad when he lined himself up with your entrance and thrusted into you with one sudden stroke. 

You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving you harder into the wall. His mouth was everywhere— your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts-biting and sucking marks into your skin like he needed to brand you.

"You—" he grunted, his grip bruising on your thighs. "Seriously, you've been driving me insane."

You moaned, arching into him, revelling in the way his control had completely shattered. "You love it," you purred, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

Jaemin snarled, slamming into you harder, his rhythm growing erratic. The elevator groaned around you, the metal shuddering with each movement, but neither of you cared. Not when he was finally, finally fucking you like you'd been imagining for weeks.

His thrusts were relentless, deep, punishing strokes that stole the breath from your lungs. Every snap of his hips drove you harder against the cold metal wall, the contrast of his burning skin and the chill of the elevator searing into you.

"You feel so good," you gasped, nails carving half-moons into his shoulders as he pistoned into you. "All this stuck-up act... just to end up fucking your colleague in an elevator—"

Jaemin's breath was hot against your neck as he growled, "You practically begged for it." 

You laughed, the sound dissolving into a moan as he angled his hips, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Did I?" You rolled your hips, taking him impossibly deeper, relishing his choked groan. "Or was it your plan from the start?"

Jaemin slammed you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. The other gripped your thigh, hiking it higher around his waist as he drove into you with brutal precision.

"Look at you," he rasped, eyes black with hunger as he watched your breasts bounce with each thrust. "Taking it like you were made for me. Like this pussy was built for my cock."

The vulgarity, so stark against his usual polished speech, sent a shockwave of heat through you. You arched, offering yourself completely. "Do whatever you want with me," you panted, meeting his erratic rhythm. "Fuck—Jaemin!"

He swallowed your cry with a searing kiss, tongue tangling with yours, tasting your surrender. His free hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with ruthless accuracy.

The dual stimulation was too much. The stretch of him filling you, the rough circle of his thumb, the possession in his voice... Your climax ripped through you, violent and blinding. You screamed into his mouth, body clamping down around him in pulsing waves.

Jaemin swore, his rhythm faltering as your walls milked him. "Tight—fuck—so fucking tight—" With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his groan raw and shattered as he emptied himself inside you.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the hum of the stalled elevator. His forehead rested against yours, sweat-slicked and trembling, his grip on your wrists easing.

The silence stretched, thick with the scent of sex and shattered resolve. Then, faintly, a mechanical whir echoed through the shaft.

The elevator jolted violently back to life.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flooding the cramped space with harsh, unforgiving light. Jaemin froze, his breath still ragged, pupils blown wide with shock and lingering desire. For one heartbeat, then two, the world narrowed to the slick heat between your bodies, the tremble in his arms as he held you against the wall, and the raw, exposed truth in his eyes.

Then reality crashed back.

He pulled out of you with a sharp gasp, scrambling backwards as if burned. His movements were frantic, jerky. He yanked up his slacks, fumbling with his belt, fingers trembling over the buttons of his ruined dress shirt. He wouldn’t look at you. Not at the smear of your lipstick across his jaw, not at the flush high on your chest, not at the way your skirt was still rucked up around your hips.

Wincing at the ache between your thighs, you smoothed your skirt down with deliberate calm. The air reeked of sex, sweat, and Jaemin’s expensive cologne, leaving no doubt of the kind of activity you've just engaged in.

A mechanical chime echoed through the cab.

Ding.

The elevator resumed its ascent.

Jaemin finally met your eyes. His hair was wild, his tie hanging loose, his collar undone. A vein pulsed in his temple. He looked… undone. Ravaged. Beautiful.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again, his voice scraped raw: "We are never speaking of this again."

The elevator doors slid open onto the empty executive floor hallway. Cold, sterile air rushed in, a sharp contrast to the hot, almost-steam that had filled the cab.

You bit your lip to hide a smile, reaching up to wipe the smudged lipstick from his jaw with your thumb. He flinched but didn’t pull away. "Whatever you say, sheriff," you murmured, your voice low and honeyed.

His eyes flashed with a mix of fury, hunger, and something dangerously close to surrender. He caught your wrist, his grip tight but not painful, holding your hand against his face for a fraction of a second too long. 

Then he released you, straightened his shoulders with visible effort, and strode out of the elevator without a backwards glance. His steps echoed down the polished marble hallway, sharp and precise once more—the perfect HR enforcer, already rebuilding his walls.

You leaned back against the cool metal wall, inhaling the fading scent of him in the elevator. The doors began to slide shut.

Just before they sealed, you saw him pause at the far end of the corridor. He didn’t turn around. But his hand rose, fingers brushing the spot on his jaw where your thumb had been.

The doors shut, and you smiled.

𝜗ৎ... business casual series masterlist

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1.5 - Before

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending. (Standalone series - not related to any other of my stories/characters)

Hello! I know I said this would be a 2 part series but this part of chapter 2 felt like it's own section, so I've created a mini chapter to bridge the two parts and keep us fed - this is a flashback. Part 2 still to come! Thank you all for the love and engagement you've given this story, as always reblogs and comments are appreciated!

💔

Around 18 months earlier…

This was the shift from Hell.

You must’ve accidentally cursed yourself; it was the only explanation for the non-stop chaos the day had wrought. Apologies to any magical being you may have offended.

The kitchen were somehow out of both maple syrup and hash browns. Roscoe must’ve messed up the inventory order again. The customers affected by this egregious error were certainly making themselves known when you broke the news, while Roscoe sheepishly hid back at the grill. You understood their anger, what kind of diner doesn’t have hash browns or maple syrup?! Sure, you shared their pain – but throwing a spoon at your head seemed unnecessary.

The soda machine had leaked all over your arm an hour into your shift and you couldn’t shake the sticky, goopy feeling no matter how many times you had washed your hands. Your shoe broke, the sole flapping against the floor with every step. A table who had spent their entire two hours there demanding an array of elaborate substitutions and ‘softer napkins’ stiffed you on the tip, despite you bending over backwards to help them out. You found yourself counting the minutes until you could clock out, go back to your shoebox apartment, and bury yourself in bed. Not long to go.

“Hon’, sorry…” Lou called out to you, in that tone he always used when he was breaking bad news, “I know you’re swamped – but can you take care of the gentleman in the corner booth? Marcy just went on break and I gotta cover her other tables and whip that jack-off in the kitchen into shape…”

You sighed wearily, you were due to clock off soon and were closing out your section. But you took a deep breath and nodded over at him, “alright, Lou, but only cos it’s you…”

“Thank-you Hon’,” he beamed at you gratefully, disappearing into the kitchen to go yell at Roscoe.

You wandered over to the corner booth Lou had pointed to, swallowing your frustration and fatigue. There was a man sitting by himself, his face obscured by the menu he held up to read. His fingers curled over the sides of the paper, littered with gold rings and scars. One of his hands seemed to be…metal? A strange glove, perhaps? You could see from the sleeves alone that the dark suit he wore was expensive. Not to mention what appeared to be diamond encrusted cufflinks…

Huh. You at least hoped you’d get a good tip out of him.

“Good afternoon, Sir, I’ll be taking care of you today,” you said sunnily as you pulled your notepad and pen from your apron. “What can I get you started with? Some coffee maybe?”

The man didn’t move. The menu remained upright. He was so still it wasn’t almost eerie. You briefly had a crazy thought that he may have died and nobody had noticed, then dismissing your silliness as quickly as it arrived. Besides, dealing with a corpse in the diner was the last thing you needed today.

A few beats passed, but he still didn’t respond. You cleared your throat and tapped your foot to alert him to your presence. Still nothing. You frowned, maybe he didn’t hear you. Maybe he had airbuds in or something.

“Sir…? Would you like to order?” you asked again, your tone a little more strained this time.

Silence. But you saw one of his fingers twitch so you knew he was still alive, at least.

You were used to rude customers, the ones who were outright hostile towards you, and the ones who treated you as if you weren’t there. This was nothing new. But the stress of your shift with the combined fuckery of everything that had gone wrong meant you were hanging on by a thread. Your usual hardiness and thick skin were weakened, and your customer service mask slipped.

“Look buddy…it’s incredibly rude to just ignore your waitress you know…” you snarkily told the hovering menu, “are you gonna order or what?”

You realised what you’d said too late, clapping your hand over your mouth as an amused chuckle came from behind the menu shield. Just as you went to apologise, the paper dropped to the table, revealing the mystery man behind it.

You blinked, a little stunned at the sight of him.

His chestnut brown hair was slicked back into a perfect bun, complimenting the light dusting of stubble on his cut-glass jawline. Pouty pink lips curled into a smirk as his large, bulky frame manoeuvred in the booth to get a better look at you. But you were most struck by his eyes, so blue and piercing that you could drown in them. Better women than you probably had.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-” you flustered.

“Don’t be,” replied the man commandingly, his voice low but soft, “you were right. That was rude of me, I’m very sorry. I was lost in my own world there for a moment. I hope you can accept my apology”.

You gawped at him, surprised at his reaction. You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Uh…yeah. Sure. Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you; it’s just been a long day…” you admitted sheepishly.

He nodded and studied you carefully, his gaze sweeping you from tip to toe. It felt exposing to be looked at like that, but you couldn’t deny the hint of a thrill it gave you too.

“Well, I’m sorry to have added to it,” he smiled at you.

And what a smile. A knee-weakening smile. All white teeth and warmth. And maybe something…darker?

“My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes…” he extended a hand towards you to shake, his smile dangerous yet enticing, “Doll, I’d love to hear yours…”

💔

[4milly]

…..so what was you saying about the gym, boo? i’m waitinggg.

ꨄ i put that boy on rock rock. jey u.

- small little thot if i must say. LMAO yall i workout to fergalicious, and i love that little “I PUT THEM BOYS ON ROCK ROCK.” so im like deg imagine putting jey on rock rock. i also imagine that song where beyonce sings, “let me sit this asssss…on you.”

- YALL I GOT A SINUS INFECTION FROM HELL. WTF. also i’m still working on a masterlist and i need a bit of help. if anyone specializes in those hmu pls. xoxo love you.

warnings: smut, thumb in b, no protection, oral, minors dni.

you unzipped your pink lululemon jacket as heat began to overtake your form. you finished 30 minutes on the stair master on level 6. sweat beads dripped from the top of your chest drenching your white juicy couture sports bra. it was late night, and you couldn’t sleep. deciding to tire yourself out, you came to the gym. unbeknownst to you, your shorts hiked up causing your ass to have a bit more shelving—something the man on the other side of the gym took in.

you went to grab the sanitizing spray infront of the machine. you glanced up to see the man eyeing you before he adverted his gaze towards the weights again. it was your turn to take him in, wearing black gym shorts and a white muscle tank. you smirked to yourself at the attention. you weren’t one to show out for the male attention, but he was fine ass fuck.

fuck it.

you walked over to the stretching machines near the weight lifting racks. backing against the wall, you spread your legs open pushing backwards bending down; your ass pressed firmly against the wall. what to you was extending your glutes, looked like you nearly doing a split on the wall. his eyes were on you now watching you move against the wall, his workout far in the back of his head. you moved towards the ground into a doggy position arching your ribs towards the ground as deep as you can.

you couldn’t say you knew him, but he attended the gym quite a bit—his name was, jey. when you stood you could see the man not even hiding his gazes anymore. he leaned against the wall taking in your show, with his lip between his teeth. you let out a small laugh before grabbing your water bottle heading towards the gym showers, keeping your eyes on him secretly inviting him to join. since you were the only one, without shame you shed your jacket and sports bra leaving you in only your shorts.

you turned on the shower to the hottest setting waiting a second before steam started to rise. before you could take off your shorts, you let out a gasp as someone pulls your body towards your front wrapping their arms around your mid section

“you thought you was gone get away with that lil show back there, mama? i wasn’t gone say nun?” jey speaks into your neck before placing kisses on it pressing himself against your ass

“what’re you gonna do about it than?” you respond pushing your thumbs into your shorts, pooling them at your ankles. he briefly takes in your lack of panties under your shorts. you turn around to face the man smashing your lips to his.

“you was tryna get fucked, ma? where you thought you was goin’ like this?” he grunts against your lips, his hand snaking down towards your pussy rubbing your clit.

he rubbed in vigorous circles stimulating your juices, “yea…you wanted some dick tonight didn’t you? wet ass pussy.” he rasped out sinking his fingers into your pussy curling them towards your spot

“mmmm, right there.” you sighed into his mouth sucking on his tongue as he pushed his fingers in and out of your pussy, the noises bouncing off the walls. “ahhh, baby!” you whimpered

“nah, you not cummin on my fingers. tryna taste you on my tongue, ma. just know it’s sweet.” jey pushed you both into the shower, pushing your back against the wall shower wall.

he took off his muscle tank before stepping out of his shorts. his 3rd leg slapping against his stomach, pointing towards you, long, thick, and hard. he used his hand that was inside of you to moisten his dick. he dropped to his knees before lifting your own over his muscular shoulder. his tongue darting out to your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

“m-mm! shit!” you reached down gripping his hair pulling his face closer towards your soaking pussy. your juices coating his beard. you felt the tightness in your belly before you came into his mouth. wet heat drenching his tongue as he made sure not to miss a drop.

as you rode your orgasm out on his tongue, you felt him slide in two fingers againbefore pulling his mouth away, “tight ass pussy, mama. bend over.”

jey quickly spun you around before bending you over. he spread your ass cheeks watching your juices seep out of you, making a mess in between your thighs. his eyes moved upwards towards your asshole before letting a glob of spit out over it. he rubbed his dick through your slit to lube himself up, before pushing inside of you and pushing a finger into your 2nd hole.

“ssss—ahhh. jey!” you hissed out as his dick split you wider with each inch he fed you and the intrusion of his finger inside your asshole.

“shit! you grippin’ me so good ma. my pretty girl.” he groaned before starting to fuck into you “relax, you can take it. stand on your toes…there you go, baby.”

he starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until he’s just at the tip—nearly empty before plunging back inside, earning a squeak from you. his thumb thrusting in and out, as his other grips your hips pulling you to meet his thrust. you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, and deeper.

he raised his leg up onto the shower bench next to you, the new angle allowing him to dig deeper into your pussy. his dick bottoming out each time as he sped up. that thumping vein rubbing your spot. the beautiful mess you both made dripping between your thighs. jey threw out a string of praises; nearly chanting about how wet you were.

“so fuckin’ wet, baby. wet ass pussy.” he cracks a hand against your ass, “i’m slidin’ right in, ma.”

“just like that, jey…ouuu, fuck daddy! i’m cumminn.” you whined out. you placed your hands on the wall before throwing your ass back onto his lap.

he reaches his hand over to vigorously rub your clit. the friction sending you into overdrive and moments later your clamping down onto him squirting all over him. the heat melting your body, eyes rolling back, and unable to string coherent words other than his name.

“keep cummin’ for me, baby.” he groans fucking you through your orgasm chasing his own, his pace becoming rapid. “doin so good, mama. get whatchu’ need from me, baby…get your nut.”

him sliding all the way out and pushing all the way back in. his big mushroom tip brushing over your clit. the combo making your pussy clenching again for a 2nd time as he curses at the feeling before painting your walls with his cum, plugging his dick into you making sure not one drop of your love making spilled. you released a whine at the sensation of his warm cum splattering all over your pussy for awhile, mixing with your own.

you wanted to relish in it—the euphoric cloud over the both of you nearly dragging you under.

“damn, girl. i been waiting to do that for a min’ now. shit better than i dreamed about.” he pants before pulling out of you

your pussy clenching down to do everything in its power to keep him in. the feeling of being stretched so full with his dick and his cum becoming an obsession. he licked his lips at the sight of everything spilling out of your pussy.

“how oft—often do you come to the gym?” you ask after catching your breath and standing to face him

“however often you want me. literally too.” he joked before placing a kiss on your lips

[beatrixst0nehill]

Alice rubbed her belly, flaunting her pregnant form eagerly. "Soooo, this is very exciting. H-Hey guys, surprise! I'm pregnant.... My parents basically gave me an ultimatum. Either detransition or start pumping out kids. Like.... I was thinking of just detransing, like what trans girl doesn't pump her cock thinking of that??? But I chickened out and said I wanted to start breeding! Granted, I was bringing home a new guy or three.... or five.... basically every night. And my parents had to listen to me giggle and moan and get my fat, girly ass pounded for hours, all the while having to deal with the walls shaking and hearing their spoiled princess get spanked and smacked around. I think they really regret talking me into transitioning but it's too late now!

I actually received an already-pregnant womb. Allegedly I'm six months along but I've only had this womb for three months. The hospital got it out of some ditzy college girl who was testing experimental fuck machines. A student cranked it up when she was testing it on her ass and it scrambled her guts. Soooo, lucky me? Is this big for six months? I feel like it is. My doctors assured me everything is normal and it's becoming very common for trans girls to become breeders!

There is one teeny tiny problem. So, they gave me a choice when daddy brought me in to get my womb. Either they don't do anything and my belly just gets bigger and bigger with no birth canal until the hospital scoops me off the street to give me a C-section, or they give me a birth canal. I thought the first answer sounded a bit scary. Apparently it's pretty popular and really exciting for the girls to see how long they can last without getting dragged to the ER and having their kids scooped out. I asked for a birth canal. Ummm, let me just show you."

Alice removed her baggy skirt, lifting her cock with great heft, hanging down to her knees. She slapped it onto the table in front of her camera. It was even thicker than her upper arms, totally swollen, with a gorgeous head the size of her fist and the color of her lips, its urethra drooling precum. "Look at this!" Alice stroked her cock, reaching forward, slipping four fingers into it with ease. "Oh fuck, it feels so good! Look, I can fist my cock! I may or may not be encouraging guys to fuck it, too....... My balls are gigantic, too. How am I supposed to stay a girl with balls the size of grapefruits??? Ugh, I swear I must cum a gallon a day at least, it's unbearable how bad my erections get after only an hour or two without sex or masturbating. I'm told it's a similar level of horniness to most cis pregnant girls. Hurray, I guess?

I am also on very high doses of estrogen to keep my hormones in check, but still! My cock used to be like five inches, and my balls were like marbles. My doctor says they're almost finished growing but I'm not sure I believe him. Either way us trans girls with wombs are apparently kept pregnant by the state. I thought I'd have to go out and get fucked but nope! I have no choice. I'll be kept pregnant forever now, forced to push as many kids as possible out of my 'birthing shaft' as they call it. Since technically it's too big to actually fuck girls with. Doesn't stop them from trying. I get soooo many pregnant girls who excitedly approach me, feeling my belly, asking how far along I am, or to see how swollen my pussy looks, only to lift my dress or skirt and they gasp..... Then these girls take it as a challenge, trying to suck it, stroking it, bending over and begging me to 'try my hardest to ram it in their holes'. It's kinda fun getting so much attention from girls all of a sudden but it's exhausting, too. And I'm only six months? How do girls walk with such giant bellies???

Oh well, another four months or so until the big day. I'll definitely be filming it. Hopefully my cock can withstand pushing out so many kids. I can't wait to try! I feel like even at this side my poor cock might burst trying to do this but I promise to put on a good show either way! I love being pregnant, and hopefully this is the first of many more! ❤️"

[cmdrfupa]

After Hours

Far too cold and clinical for a place that stocks fresh fruit and warm bread.

There are only a handful of other shoppers left: one woman comparing labels on oat milk, a man in a wrinkled shirt wandering aimlessly near the cereal aisle. No one looks up when Nanami walks in. He prefers it that way.

He pulls a folded shopping list from his coat pocket. The handwriting is neat, concise. He keeps it on paper out of habit, not necessity.

-Eggs. -Yogurt. -Soba noodles. - Bread. -Baby spinach. -Lemons. -Coffee (whole bean). -Toothpaste. -Something sweet (optional).

The front shopping cart wheel squeaks on his first turn. He considers swapping it, but doesn’t. There’s no one around to be bothered by the sound, and he won’t be here long.

The aisles are orderly enough, though a few things are out of place. He eyes a lone box of instant curry nestled among the pasta sauces, a child’s mitten abandoned beside a stack of tangerines. Nanami notes them absently. He doesn’t fix them. It isn’t his job.

At the produce section, he inspects the spinach like he’s weighing an argument. Some of the small bunches were too far gone to try and salvage. Some just slightly wilted on the leaves edge. Still salvageable. It goes into a reusable bag, not the flimsy plastic ones provided. He’s not sentimental, but he is particular.

The bakery counter is closed, lights dimmed and display case empty. But on the clearance rack near the end of the aisle, a three pack of kouign-amann sits in a plastic container. He shifted his weight, looking at the tips of his shoes before looking at the price sticker on the container.

30% marked down due to “damage”. He hesitates. And not because of the state of the sweets.

He told himself no sweets this week. But rules, like hours, sometimes bend.

He places it in the cart without looking directly at it, as if doing so would make it harder to justify.

When he reaches the coffee aisle, he takes longer. He runs his fingers along the bags of beans like one might trace the spines of books in a quiet library. Dark roast, low acidity, ethically sourced. He’s memorized the labels by now. Still, he reads each one again.

A soft announcement plays overhead, reminding shoppers that the store will close in fifteen minutes. He glances at his watch. He’ll be out in ten.

The self-checkout machines were mostly empty, save for one humming stubbornly at the far end, flashing a red light while a teenager in an apron tapped at its screen with visible boredom.

Nanami chose the furthest terminal, not out of preference, but habit.

He wheeled his basket to the terminal carefully. Each item was scanned with practiced precision, placed in the repurposed paper bag according to weight and fragility. Lemons on the bottom. Bread on top. coffee slid in sideways, tucked just so between two containers of plain yogurt. Not because he particularly enjoyed yogurt—but it helped him with hitting protein and calcium, was healthy, predictable in flavor, kept well, and helped regulate his bowel movements.

‘I’ll buy some peaches from the fresh market this weekend to pair with it.’

He went to grab the soba noodles. As he swept them across the scanner, it misread the barcode. He didn’t sigh. He simply tried again, adjusting the angle, then again—until it beeped with compliance. He moved on.

"Please place the item in the bagging area," the machine chirped.

He had.

A brief pause. Then: "Unexpected item in the bagging area."

Nanami stared at the screen for a beat longer than usual.

It wasn’t anger. He didn’t feel anger. Just… the cumulative weight of small inefficiencies.

A store attendant noticed and began to approach, but Nanami waved a hand along side a nod—a duo’d, understated motion that communicated I’ve handled it without so much as a glance. He adjusted the placement of the baked good. The error disappeared. He continued scanning.

When the machine asked if he had any coupons, he pressed No without hesitation. He typed in his cellphone number so the digital coupons could automatically deduct from his purchase instead.

His total came to less than expected even with the baked good. He paid in exact change, a relic of preference rather than necessity, and folded the receipt once before slipping it into his coat.

He did not take a bag. His own was already full, the shape of it well-balanced as he lifted it into the crook of his arm.

Behind him, the machine chirped a cheerful Thank you for shopping with us!

He didn’t respond.

Outside, the air is cooler. A breeze lifts the hem of his coat. The bag digs into the crook of his arm, heavier on one side from the loose lemons and toothpaste multipack.

---

The drive home is short. Eight minutes, if the lights favor him. Eleven, if they don't.

Tonight, they're indifferent. Two reds, one green. A flicker of yellow he chooses not to test. He waits. The engine idles with a low hum, headlights carving out a hollow path on empty streets.

His hands rest on the wheel at ten and two. Always. Not out of fear as he was a good driver, cautious without being hesitant—but because order has always helped him think.

He doesn’t listen to much music. Doesn’t need the noise. He once tried jazz, then ambient piano. They made him feel as though he should be feeling something, and that expectation was more exhausting than the silence. So he settled for NPR. Monotone voices and up to date topics. Acceptable car noise.

At a left turn, he signals even though there’s no one behind him. It’s not for anyone else. It’s just the rule.

He parks in his usual spot, parallel to the curb in front of his building. The streetlight above flickers once. He watches it, then grabs his grocery bag, evenly balancing it as he walks to the front door.

His apartment is clean. Not sterile. but intentionally minimal.

Shoes off at the door. Coat on the hook. Keys in the ceramic dish on the entry table.

He unpacks the groceries in silence:

Lemons in the hanging fruit hammock. Spinach into the fridge. The crisper drawer, right side. Eggs beside the butter. Yogurt on the top shelf to the left next to his milk alternatives. Soba in the dry goods pantry. Coffee beans next to his coffee grinder on the far corner of the counter. Toothpaste in the bathroom drawer, beneath the extras. Everything has a place.

The kouign-amann sat alone on the counter, its plastic container a soft crinkle in the quiet.

He stares at it for a moment.

‘You didn’t need them.’

The thought isn’t harsh. Just… matter-of-fact. Like reading a label.

But there’s another voice, quieter, less disciplined. One that sounds suspiciously like a colleague he never sees anymore. ‘You also don’t need a glass of whiskey yet you aren’t matter of fact on that. What’s the point of working yourself to death if you don’t enjoy the little things?’

He opens the container. The pastry is imperfect. Slightly smushed on one side, the caramelized sugar clinging to the ridges unevenly. Still, he can tell it’ll be good. Flaky. Rich. Brief. A sweet treat.

He puts it on a plate. Doesn’t warm it up. He’ll have it with a glass of cold milk, the way he did as a child, before his father taught him that indulgence should be discreet, if not rare.

And after his mother taught him that indulgences are mini celebrations for making through a tough day.

‘It has been a tough day.’

He doesn’t sit. Just leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely as he takes the first bite.

The sugar sticks to his teeth. The butter melts on his tongue.

He chews slowly.

You didn’t need it, he thinks again.

But he swallows, takes another bite, sighing at the small hint of delight it brought him.

“You needed it. You’ll survive, Kento.” He breaks his own silence with his low voice.

He taps his toes on the granite floor as he takes the last bite of his kouign-amann, washing it down with the bit of milk he had left before dusting crumbs off the counter and into the waiting trash receptacle at the edge of his island.

-----

He washed the plate and glass immediately.

No dishes left in the sink. No excuses in the morning. The water runs warm over his hands. He dries them on the cloth towel hanging by the sink and folds it back neatly.

The bathroom light is soft, almost golden. A small luxury: warm bulbs. The mirror reflects him in half-shadow as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves before he prepped for his shower.

Mildly scented soap, a balm for immediately after to avoid dry skin, blonde specific shampoo to help with the hair dullness he’s noticed the last few months.

‘At least its working. Makes the grays blend better.’

A plain, navy sleep shirt and gray sweatpants awaited him. No logos. No fuss.

He starts with flossing, then rinsing with mouthwash, and ended off with brushing his teeth with practiced, exact strokes.

Skincare is quick, unsentimental. Foam cleanser, glycolic acid, alcohol free tonger, hyaluronic acid, then a thin film of moisturizer rubbed in with his ring fingers after it has all absorbed into his skin. He wasn’t one for vanity. But he was one for maintenance. Like oiling a blade.

The bedroom smells faintly of clean linen and the faint citrus of whatever detergent he buys in bulk. The bed is already turned down. He does it in the morning, One less step between him and rest.

He sets his alarm to six am though he rarely needs it to wake up.

Then he reaches for his book: Red Rising by Pierce Brown. 30 minutes to read.

He’s too into the plot and that almost went out the window.

His phone is placed face-down on the nightstand. No doomscrolling. No headlines. No excuses. But tonight, he lets his thumb hover just a moment longer before locking the screen. Making sure to have his phone on do not disturb.

A notification glows softly. Its from you:

Goodnight Kento! can’t wait for our date tomorrow. Sent just now.

He reads it twice. Not because he didn’t understand the first time, but because it’s rare. The feeling of anticipation, without the dread. Company, without exhaustion.

His thumb taps out a reply, short but sincere.

Kento: Rest well. I’m looking forward to it, too. See you tomorrow.

He watches the screen dim and turns his phone down on the nightstand.

The room is quiet.

But his thoughts, just this once, are quieter than usual. Still present. Still layered.

Things he didn’t say. Things he saw today that he’ll pretend not to remember tomorrow. But softened by something else.

The idea that tomorrow around this same time, he’ll be out at a late night movie on a rooftop rather than being tucked in.

‘It’s a good change. A great one.’

Not hope, exactly. Something older. Quieter. Like the memory of warmth, long after the fire’s gone out.

He lies back, pulling the blanket over himself in a single motion. And when he closes his eyes, sleep finds him a little faster.

[polo-drone-039]

VALENTINE’S DAY IS COMING - PART 1

A new beginning

It was a crisp January morning. New year’s sunshine filtering into Luke’s bedroom was bustling with the promise of new beginnings. “Let’s make sense of this new year” said to himself with enthusiasm…..

….and that same morning Luke, a skinny shy nerd guy, stood in front of the gleaming, floor-to-ceiling windows of a Gym. The cold January air filled his lungs, his eyes drawn to the reflections of the muscular figures moving rhythmically inside. A shiver of excitement and nerves danced down his spine. He hadn't stepped foot in a gym since that one ill-fated attempt in high school. “uhm, I don’t know if it’s a good idea”, but with the last effort he casts off his thoughts, he took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy glass door. The sound of clanging weights and grunts of exertion grew louder with each step he took across the floor.

The gym's atmosphere had the scent of iron and determination. A group of athletic guys was training proudly. Massive bodies  with sculpted pecs and biceps showing evident veins below and their gazes full of determination "Come on, man, one more rep". One of them shouted. His teammate, Max, also in gold, grunted in response, pushing the barbell up with a trembling effort. The clank of metal on metal filled the air as the weights collided with the rack.

Max's gaze was gentle, though, not what one would expect from someone with such a commanding physique. His eyes, a soft hazel, held a kindness that belied his muscular frame. He watched Luke, the newcomer, with an encouraging smile, noticing his tentative steps and the way his eyes darted around the room, searching for a place to start.

Luke's eyes darted around the room, taking in the various contraptions designed to push bodies to their limits. His gaze was drawn to the free weights section, where the serious lifters congregated. His heart quickened. He had always envied those who could manipulate their bodies so easily, bending them to their will.

He grabbed a pair that looked like a reasonable starting point. They were heavier than he thought, and as he tried to lift them to his shoulders, they clanked together awkwardly, his muscles straining under the sudden burden. His cheeks flushed red with effort and embarrassment. He had seen YouTube tutorials, read articles, and even bought a workout book, but none of that prepared him for the actual heft of the weights in his hands.

Max noticed Luke's struggle and, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel, ambled over. "Hey, first time?" In a deep voice and easygoing grin.

"Yeah," Luke managed to squeak out, his arms shaking.

"Don't worry, guy" Max said, placing a firm but gentle hand on Luke's shoulder. "We all start somewhere." He took the dumbbells from Luke's trembling grasp and replaced them with a lighter pair. "These should be better for you."

As Luke tentatively lifted the new weights, Max returned to his teammates, who had finished their set and were watching with curiosity. They were a diverse group, each with their own story of transformation written into the fabric of their muscles. They had come to the gym to escape their own shadows, and in the process, had found a community that supported one another.

“I think that’s all for today” after a short time, the burn in Luke's arms grew too intense to ignore. He decided it was time for a break. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, headed toward the locker room. The floor was a maze of benches, machines, and sweaty towels, but he found the locker room with surprising ease. The air was thick with the scent of soap and steam, a stark contrast to the metallic scent of the gym floor.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Luke felt his muscles begin to relax. The water washed away the sweat and the dust of his first workout, leaving him feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. He scrubbed his skin with a loofah, feeling the grit of the day melt away. His thoughts drifted back to Max and his welcoming smile. “Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all”.

The locker room door squeaked open, and Max, still in his gym shorts, stepped in. His teammates had already left, and the room was filled with the sound of running water and the hiss of steam. He walked over to the shower area, his bare feet slapping against the wet tiles.

Max's movements were casual, almost careless in their ease. He turned on the faucet and the water gushed out, spraying a fine mist across the tiles. He didn't bother to check if anyone was there. As he lathered his thick arms and his torso with body wash, his eyes remained closed, focusing solely on the soothing warmth of the water.

Max was a living embodiment of what he aspired to be. Every muscle was sculpted, every movement was precise, and every drop of water that rolled down his body, over his round butts and down to his massive quadriceps highlighted the contours of his physique. Luke tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. The sight was both intimidating and mesmerizing. His hand slips down, caressing it gently.

When Max opened his eyes and caught Luke's gaze, he didn't look away. Instead, he offered a nod of acknowledgment with a smile of satisfaction. The gesture was simple, but it made Luke feel less like an outsider and more like a gym novice who had earned the respect of a seasoned veteran. It was the first time he felt a flicker of belonging in this uncharted territory.

With his nerves somewhat soothed, Luke finished his shower and grabbed his towel. As he exited the stall, Max was just stepping out of his, a cloud of steam following him. He offered Luke a fist bump, which Luke returned, feeling a surge of camaraderie.

That night, Luke's dreams were indeed turbulent and full of excitement. He saw himself in the gym, surrounded by the clank of weights and the murmur of encouragement. In his sleep, he felt the burn in his muscles, the thrill of lifting more than he thought possible. His dream-self was not the awkward newcomer from earlier that day; he was a formidable force, moving with the grace and power of an athlete.

But amidst the dreams of personal triumph, Max's image kept appearing. Not just the encouragement, not just the guidance, but the very essence of Max's physique. It was as if his subconscious mind was dissecting every inch of the man's body, trying to understand how one could achieve such a transformation. The dreams were not sexual, not entirely, but they were suffused with a deep admiration and yearning. He dreamt of the way the muscles of Max's arms flexed, the power in his legs as he squatted, the way his chest rose and fell with each controlled breath.

The Bond

Each day, Luke found himself returning to the gym earlier and earlier. He would arrive just in time to see Max walk through the door, the sun casting a golden halo around his broad shoulders. The sight of him was like a beacon, drawing Luke in, pushing him to face the day's challenge. He started to learn Max's routine, the rhythm of his workout, the machines he favored. He tried to mimic it, hoping some of that strength and confidence would rub off on him.

Over the next few weeks, Luke's biceps and pecs grew steadily, mirroring the growth of his confidence. Each time he looked in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was more and more unrecognizable. The weights that had once felt like a burden were now part of his daily routine.

Max noticed Luke's dedication and took him under his wing. They began to share tips and techniques. "You know what really pumps me up?" Max asked amused one afternoon, as they both took a breather on adjacent benches. "Music." He pulled out his earphones and offered them to Luke. "Give these a shot." The music that spilled out was a mix of intense beats and powerful motivational lyrics, the kind that made you want to move mountains. Luke's eyes lit up as he listened “It breaks, bro!”, nodding along to the rhythm, lost in those convincing words.

Through their shared passion for fitness, they found common ground, and their friendship grew. Their conversations growing beyond the simple nods and grunts of acknowledgment. They spoke of their lives outside the gym walls, their hopes and fears. Max's stories of bullies and self-doubt resonated with Luke, who had faced his own share of tormentors.

One evening as many others, as Luke was leaving the gym, Max called out to him. "Hey, you're doing great, man. Keep it up," Max said, his eyes gleaming with sincerity with a tender kiss on his head. "Thanks, Max," Luke replied, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Hey, I know this might sound weird, but I wanted to invite you to dinner next Friday," Max said, his smile tentative. "It's, uh, Valentine's Day. I just thought it'd be cool to celebrate your progress." Luke felt his cheeks heat up, and he fumbled with his water bottle. "Really? I mean, sure, that sounds great." He had never been one to handle compliments or attention well, especially not from someone he admired so much.

Luke couldn’t help but wonder.... " Was it just friendship, or was there something more? "....

...To be continued

Part 2

“Do you want to join? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold or @goldenherc9”

[onlychonn]

suddenly had the urge to to write a little smthhhh while listening to my 2016 music 😭.

masterlist

our fluffydutch/german!farmer taking his precious earthyblack!reader along to the farmers market with him! and reader getting in a bittttt of trouble 🫢 (nsfw next part 🤭)

come on!!

Oh my ... there goes Mr teddy bear.. having to search for you again as you've wandered off to search for the animal section here. at this point teddy is really considering getting us one of those little backpacks with the leash on it (😭).

oh poor man can't even catch a break as he shopped. oh, but as he stress bought, you popped right back up next to him with something.. exotic?!

"bubba look! i bought us a ferret!" you giggled happily, showing off the long furry animal

as you thought your husband would be happy with what you had spent your money on, he couldn't even crack you a smile. sighing as he rubbed his forehead he tried to have remorse for what he now considered his bit-bimboed wife.

"Hun.." he sighed "we don't .. need anymore animals.. " he continued, sighing as he let you down

"but.. bitte?" you politely begged, tugging at he sleeve.

he knew you absolutely didn't need any more animals on your already packed farm but oh.. your eyes.. your small begs.. how could your man just say no to you!?

"you really stress me, schatz" he sighs once more, his words being your indication for a yes.

you giggle happily and peck his cheek, hugging his side as he continued shopping. pointing out a few things he missed on the list.

"i don't need your fuckin' help, puppe" he chuckles, placing the missing items in his basket. you giggle once more, placing another warm kiss on his face.

ah .. there you go again.. not too far this time though! you saw a snack stand not too far away and slipped right from his side.

"hm.." you examined the vast variety of self serve snacks and candies in front of you.

"hi sweetheart! well aren't you a cute one? here, this one is on me, get what ever you'd like, doll!" a tall man approaches from behind the stand, handing you a medium sized plastic bag. you smile sweetly at his kind compliments then brightly at his kind gesture of paying for whatever you grabbed.

as you began scooping and using the little tonsil to pick your candies the (guessing) owner began small talk. and oh, you just wanting to be oh so friendly, you complied and replied.

"so.. see some stuff you like?" he chuckles, sucking on a toothpick he had sticking out of his mouth

"mhm!" you giggle, adding more things

"gon' on and fill it up sweetheart" he encouraged, waving his hand out to let you know it was okay

you nod, looking around at the other options, picking up a few pieces of cotton candy and some gummy eggs.

"do you have any popcorn or chips? I thought I saw some when i came over here" you give a warm smile, as you picked and put some sour belts into your bag.

"oh yeah, yeah hold on.." he turns around and bends over a bit to pull out a popcorn machine. "I'll make some popcorn for you doll.. only for one thing.." he said, plugging in the machine.

"hm? I'll do it!" you giggled, stopping to look up.

"I just want oneeee.. little kiss right here" he pat the middle of his cheek with the bed of his index finger.

"oh umm.. hold on, I'll go see if my husband will let me!" i place the bag down on his stand, turning around quickly to go grab Teddy.

"wait, you have a husband?" he asks rather quickly

"yes! just please, stay right there!" you happily walk over to teddy

"bubba! can I give that man over there a kiss for some popcorn" you point to the man. "he said he'd give me free candy too!" you giggle happily, looking up at him as you hugged him

"a.. kiss.. for popcorn and.. candy" teddy sighed "the woman you are princess.." he huffs, paying for the groceries before walking you two over to the man's pop up shop.

Dictionary;

bitte(german): please

schatz(german): darling

puppe(german): doll

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hiiii!! i would rlly RLLY love it if you guys would recommend and request stuff, I've had writers block for a bit after I posted the first fic so I'm kinda bummed out and idk what this is 😭😭😭. yes there will be a next part after this and smut is included so mdni and yep... please send in requests ..🧸

[syneilesis]

[fic] DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF—

DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF—

Love and Deepspace | Caleb (Xia Yizhou) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words | ao3 link

This is not reality. This is a dream.

Tags/Warnings: Canon compliant, dreams, experimental writing, poetry, prose poem, Decoherence Myth, Ultimate Weapon X-02 Caleb, cameos of select planets from Novis and Hexal Quadrants, no resolution, Caleb POV, some utterly cringe lines I'm sorry

Notes: Tragically unbeta'd. I don't know what came over me to write this. Some things to remember: the first and last sections the "you" pronoun refers to Caleb. Aquaviel section has MC referred to as "she", while the rest of the planet sections has MC as "you". A little confusing but please bear with it. Also, I used an image for the Aquaviel and Florivena sections because of its formatting. Tumblr does not support complicated text formatting sad. The ao3 version of this fic has the better formatting so please check it out.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Listen first. Do you hear the distant rush of a stream? Or the cheeky twittering of birds above? Do you hear the rustle of grass around you, softly swaying along the caress of cool breeze? Feel it, its touch against your skin. Can you feel it?

Then.

Open your eyes.

Look around.

This is not reality.

This is a dream.

Your dream, and you have those every now and then. But this is different, because you can almost taste the summer on your tongue, its sylvan humidity that teases a past rainshower.

This is a dream, because she’s here with you, smiling openly, unafraid and free, and you know, deep down, that this will never happen in reality.

◘

AQUAVIEL

◘

FLORIVENA

◘

AURORIS

You’re running, and you’re fast. You’re running along the river of light, each of your step rippling across the array of colors like disruptive vibrations that eventually shattered your glass prison.

You’re running, and you’re smiling, arms flared open to feel the wind against your body. You twirl once with an open-mouthed grin, and light fractures into a kaleidoscope of joy—yellow, green, orange, white.

You’re running, and you’re not slowing down. You’re gaining speed. Faster and faster, your feet ablur, your silhouette smudge-dash across a crystal sky. Faster and faster and faster until you grow wings and fly away from here, a trail of rainbow left behind.

◘

VIRIDIANA

i.

here, it is truly endless summer, daisies bending like ballerinas stretching before a performance, wind slightly stinging, sunlight warm on the cheeks. your eyes aglow with afternoon light, a smile dancing at the edges of your mouth. it comes to mind a memory that never was—an old film reel playing stutteringly behind his eyelids, faded vintage, laughter catching at peripheries. your face, turning to him, then away, hand astretch. in that non-memory he didn't take your hand. the sky spanned above you, vast and quiet. you kept saying his name. caleb, caleb, caleb. it was seared into his being: your voice, his name. his hand reached out—

ii.

it means green, green like the forest at extreme distance, the crunch of leaves underneath your boot crisp as you tread nearer. in the field of daisies you float like an apparition come to him in a dream, diffuse in this luminous summer. a cloud passes, blocking the sun, and for a moment you're human, your metal fingers flesh and warm on his palm. “i like this world,” you say, “it's always summer here. it's always perfect.” the sun escapes, and you're an android again. “do you want to stay here,” he asks, and you look at him, diffuse in this luminous summer, and answer, “let's make a home here.”

◘

MIRAXIS

They're dressed differently. Soft fabrics that do not cling to their flesh frames. They look smaller than they are, more human than machine. Something throbs inside Caleb, a dull ache like a prolonged press of a finger on tender bruise.

They're smiling and, when Caleb's gaze slides lower, holding hands, fingers tightly entwined. He chances a glance at you and discovers a peculiar sheen in your eyes. Not unfamiliar, no; it's something he catches a glimpse of in his reflection, too, especially during times he was alone in the lab, pressing his palm against the glass that separated him from you. His mouth works to articulate a question that's clamoring in his mind—but he never gets the opportunity to speak.

“You look like us,” you begin. “But not at the same time.”

You—the mirror-you, the mirage-you—tilt your head at the statement, your markedly long hair spilling along with the movement. Caleb wonders if these illusory figures could understand speech. Behind them an amusement park sprawls across the horizon, open and brightly lit, its music wafting towards them like a tinny jingle from a radio.

A hot feeling twinges within Caleb's chest. This here, before him—this pair that bears their faces cast by this world of illusion—is an implication of a life they could have lived, once upon a time. Far away from the harsh fluorescent lights and the coldness of the laboratory where they spent most of their years—the rebellion and the destruction and the pain of separation and escape. The palpable loneliness. The half-silvered mirror that cleaved them. Only the promise of freedom remains, a stubborn ember glowing under the rubble of decay. A promise that Caleb refuses to let go.

“In another life,” the mirage-Caleb answers. “Perhaps.”

Caleb lifts his head. He takes a step—

◘

When you open your eyes again, reality bleeds into your consciousness and the world sets itself back upright. You're in the cockpit, and when you turn your head she is asleep on the other pilot's seat. It is night, the sky in the distance is speckled with stars. She groans a little and shifts position. Before you know it, your hand cradles her head and adjusts its angle for more comfort.

Tomorrow, you will fly again in pursuit of your ancestral homeland. It will be a long and arduous journey, and there will be challenges, certainly. Lurking in the corners is, after all, your inevitable oblivion. But right now, that does not matter; what matters is her freedom, come hell or high water.

Another groan from her, another shift. You tilt forward, ready to catch her in case, but she settles quietly and sighs, still sleeping. Then: your name.

Caleb, she whispers.

Caleb.

And then a smile. Faint, but it's there.

You exhale deeply, heavy yet relieved, leaning back. She must be dreaming, you think. You hope it is a good dream. You hope it is a happy dream.

Because tomorrow hell will come, and it is inescapable.

But for now, under this peaceful night, this is enough.

It has to be enough.

◘

Endnotes:

The planets mentioned:

Aquaviel, Hexal Quadrant - the planet's lake surface is like a perfect mirror.

Florivena, Hexal Quadrant - the flora are sentient and can move around places, carrying their own soil and water.

Auroris. Novis Quadrant - it has light that looks like a river of rainbow colors.

Viridiana, Novis Quadrant - a perfect summer planet.

Miraxis, Hexal Quadrant - the Mirage Island of lads lol.

[sicksweetcreamy]

Kyubey Plush Translated Instructions

Material -Fur (Short Haired) 145 cm Width... 60 cm -Felt (pink) (red) (black) -Cotton -Button (red) 1.3 cm... 12 pieces -Wire (thickness 3mm) (thickness 2mm) -Underlay (any transparent plastic sheet will do) -Stuffed Toy Joint Diameter 3 cm -Cover Button Kit 18mm... 2 pieces -Soft pastel (light pink) -Spray (yellow) -Glue You can make your own original design with a home printer! -Printed Cloth

Mouth and Eye Pattern (copy and scan it to use) -Eyes for iron-on printing (please flip left and right if necessary) -Mouth -Eyes for 18 mm Covered Buttons

How to Make Unless otherwise specified, you can use either backstitching or machine sewing. Basically, sew with front sides facing each other and then turn it right side out for later. 1) Make your stomach Sew [Front Legs (inside)] to [Body (belly)]. Look at the alignment marks and pay attention to the front and back.

2) Back making Sew the Back of the Body [Body Outer]. Leave the opening in the middle unstitched. Look at the marks and pay attention to the front and back.

3) Align the torso Sew (1) and (2) together, leaving a hole for the butt and neck (approximately 8mm or 1 cm for the joint). Open the tips of the front legs to the side, flatten them, and sew (see bottom right).

3a) Detailed diagram of how to sew the front legs [Front legs (back side)] <- -> Spread the tips of the front legs out to the side and flatten them l V [Front legs (back side)] Sew in the shape of a foot. Cut off the excess seam allowance.

4) Making hind legs. Sew the left and right lines of the [Hind Legs (inside)] and [Hind Legs (outside)]. Sew the darts of [Hind Legs (outside)]. Sew on the [soles] of the legs.

5) Sew on the body Pay attention to the direction of the legs and sew the hind legs to the body. Line up the alignment marks and make sure they go straight down.

6) Make a tail Leave the opening and the base where the joint will be attached unsewn, and turn it inside out. Attach a joint at the base of the tail.

7) Make a frame The wire is shaped into a ring and spray painted (yellow). The wire is attached to the cut out transparent file with glue, and passed through the ears.

8) Make triangular ears If you sew the felt and fur together lightly, the fur will float, but this is fine for now.

9) Make floppy ears Turn it inside out, leaving an opening for turning, and insert wire to sew the opening. Color it (the ends with the soft pink pastel), thread the gold ring (attached to the cut out transparent file) through it, and attach the (red) buttons.

Color with soft pastels. Apply a thick layer and shake off any excess powder to get the desired effect.

10) Make the head Sew 6 darts in total and sew the front and back together. Leave a hole for the neck to pass the joint through and an opening for turning. Once sewn, turn it inside out.

11) Combining. If you want to move the head or tail, use joints to connect them to the body. If you can't get hold of joints, sew them together firmly by hand. Look for them in the stuffed animal section of a craft store.

12) Insert the wire Insert wire into the body and tail. Make a circle above the neck so that the head can rest on it. After roughly shaping it, insert wire through the opening and align it.

13) Fill the body, tail, and head with cotton. Use a stick to push the remaining part in. Pack it evenly, avoiding the wire.

14) Sew the opening Seal the back, head and tail.

15) Make eyes Scan the pattern from the magazine and transfer it to the printed fabric, then cut it out. Make a covered button that fits the base. Refer to the package for instructions on how to make a covered button. If you temporarily attach the fabric and base with double sided tape before making it, the center will not shift.

16) Make a mouth Stick the pattern onto the back of the sticker felt and cut out the shape. 17) Add ears, eyes, and mouth and back patterns Bend the triangular ears and sew them to the head so that they are evenly balanced. Sew the drooping ears to the inside of the triangular ears. Sew the eyes on like buttons and stick number 16 on for the mouth. Stick the pattern on the back as well.

Kyubey says: You can use felt for the ear buttons instead. If you make the body out of fleece and the eyes with iron-on printing, it will look like this. If you use a joint, it will move but will be a little wobbly, so if this bothers you, you can sew it on directly without using a joint.

[tangerinesgirl]

Fowl Play

Chapter 1

Fem!Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: DEAD DOVE, dark fic, non con, pet names, reader in saw trap, violence, no smut (yet), stockholm syndrome

Summary: Eric is back and has enlisted the help of Mark to resume where he left off. Killing people involved in the Black Friday massacre with rigged jigsaw traps.

Notes: Set after the events of Saw 3D and Thanksgiving, no one knows John Carver's identity. I also came up with my original Saw trap for this one which was fun. Currently writing chapter two where things get steamier. I hope you enjoy!

Edit: This fic has now been discontinued, thanks everyone for your continued support.

You jump awake at the sounds of gears churning, unsure what is going on or how exactly you ended up here. You instantly recognise the abandoned Rightmart, the place where all those people were killed a few years ago on Black Friday. The place tried to reopen a few times but it was doomed since that night, people would never forget... you would never forget. You look down and see that you’re sitting on something resembling a pommel horse, with two massive steel black boots on both feet, forcing you into place, but also forcing your weight down after each churn of the cogs. Your hands are also tied behind your back with police handcuffs.

Suddenly you remember all the newspaper articles recently saying that John Carver was back, despite dying in a fire a year ago, the guy behind the Thanksgiving killings on a revenge mission. You just so happened to be in the store on that Black Friday night, but you hid in the clothing section, waiting for it to pass over, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind kill anyone! Why you? 

The cogs start turning faster, and you can feel some of your bones starting to shift and you start to scream and panic. Looking down, you notice the machinery could be in arms reach. You contort yourself to try and wedge the handcuffs in the middle of a cog and *SNAP* they break in half.

You immediately bring your hands up to the seat to try and shift your weight onto them, to give your hips a break. You try to tip the horse over with your weight, but it’s drilled to the floor. You put on a brave face and decide try and break the machinery somehow. You bend back down and you swear you can hear the cogs moving faster again. You panic and decide to just lodge your left hand in the machinery and hope for the best. The thick steel part of the handcuff on your wrist jams a cog for long enough for you to reach with your other hand to unscrew it.

You groan as the blood rushes to your head as you remove the wheel, sitting back up. You let out a deep sigh, thinking you’ve escaped and stopped the machine, but to your surprise, it keeps going. You panic again and start to smash at the metal boots with all your strength to free yourself. The sweat and the blood from your hand made freeing your foot from the first boot surprisingly easy as it just slips out. As you dented the metal of the boot, the cog also broke, so you pick up the boot, swing yourself over, and start smashing the other boot with it. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally break loose and collapse to the floor, letting out a guttural scream as you realise you’ve narrowly avoided death. You realise you don’t have time to sit and cry about it, and need to move to safety. As you stand, your hips struggle to realign themselves, are they broken? Tough shit. Your wrist is still bleeding out but you can worry about that later, you’re more concerned how you’re going to walk out of here.

You wobble quickly through the abandoned store to the main exit. Locked. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. You jump as you hear a fire exit opening from behind you, and dash to the same clothes aisle you hid that Black Friday night. 

“Clever girl”.

Your eyes widen as you realise you know the voice. The town Sheriff. You’ve always had a little crush on him, even if he did try to literally crush you in return just now. Under normal circumstances, if he had called you a clever girl, you would have been turned on. You can hear his footsteps pacing the empty store. He picks up something off the ground, every urge of your body is telling you to turn around and see what it is, but you don’t. You sit solid in fear, covering your mouth to try and regulate your breathing. You can hear him chuckle slightly, how can he laugh seeing you like this? The sick bastard.

“Shame you weren’t clever enough to cover your tracks”.

You look down and see the blood from your wrist leading directly to your hiding spot. You grab a jumper from a hanger and quickly bandage your hand, and quietly get up to find another exit. Luckily it’s pretty dark, and you have no shoes on, so you can cover the noise from your walking pretty well. You stick closely to the wall, trying to feel for another exit, what little light you had disappearing the further back into the shop you went. You feel a door handle, so you slowly and quietly open it. You try to peer inside when suddenly you feel a rush of pain to your face, sending you a few steps backwards, straight into Sheriff Newlon, wielding an axe. He puts his arms around your waist, using the axe to lift you up off the floor as you kick and scream trying to free yourself. 

“Aw did you really think I would go this alone after the last time? Cute.”

As the Sheriff carries you back the way you came, you can see the face of his accomplice as the security lights outside occasionally flicker to his face. It’s a new detective on the police force, you’ve seen him around before. Then it dawns on you. It’s the guy who was proven to be the jigsaw killer all those years ago. Mark Hoffman. How did no one see this? Maybe they did, and the whole police force is in on this operation. A grim thought. But you’re speculating here. 

The Sheriff slams you back on the floor in the room you just escaped from. You try to get up but he threatens you with the axe, hovering very close to your neck. 

“Don’t even think about it princess”.

Damn it, why does he use pet names for you like this? Your body betrays you as his voice makes you shiver. The Stockholm Syndrome isn’t helping the fact that you actually like this guy in real life.

“You know it’s a shame your contraption didn’t break her hips, Mark”, the Sheriff's gaze still fixed on you.

The Detective speaks up, “You’re right, we will just have to break them another way”.

He bends down to look into your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“You look very pretty when you cry”. 

You spit on his face, making him flinch slightly. He looks back at you and smiles. 

“I think we can have a little fun with this one”, he says, addressing the Sheriff.

[r0se-miller]

You know the rule

Brat JJ deliberately makes Emily enforce a rule at work

Warnings: strap-on, office sex, Dom Emily Prentiss, Brat Jennifer Jareau, shameless smut

Emily had been watching JJ all day. From the seat at her desk she could see the blonde making her way to and from her office, flitting between her co-workers desks and the coffee machine in the break room. As subtly as she could Emily had been watching the blonde's ass, being sure never to stare to long or allow her friends to catch the looks. By the time the clock struck 3 pm Emily could no longer contain herself. She approached the blonde who was currently pouring herself yet another coffee. Keeping her voice low she leaned in, as if to grab herself a mug, and growled "Meet me in our bathroom. Right. NOW."

JJ smirked to herself as the brunette swivelled on her feet and quickly left the bullpen, she had been waiting all day for Emily to snap, she had made sure to bend over slightly more than was necessary knowing dark eyes were on her all day. She followed Emily after leaving an appropriate amount of time, so as to not raise any questions, after several twists and turns in the hallway she finally arrived at the small isolated bathroom in a rarely used section of the building. She and Emily had found it nearly a year ago and used it when they need privacy or a break from the perpetual profiling of the team, who were persistent despite their claims of 'respecting personal boundaries'. She knocked three times on the door to let Emily know it was her, and she was promptly let in.

Emily quickly and firmly re-locked the door after JJ had entered, only then did she turn her attention back to the other woman. Without a word she grabbed the blonde and pushed her roughly into the counter beside the sink. JJ gasped at the harsh movement and looked back at Emily through the mirror. Emily wasted no time, running her hands over the blondes ass, "Just what I thought." She said sensually, "You seem to be missing proper underwear Jennifer." She the took the top of the blondes skirt and pulled it down far enough to reveal the top of a white lacy G-string. Moaning at the stark contrast of the scant panties and her proper work attire, Emily pushed a finger under one string before letting it snap back down onto JJ's hip. "Why are you wearing this?" she asked, meeting the other woman's eyes in the mirror for the first time.

"I was out of clean underwear after our last couple of cases." JJ replied evenly. In fact she had been out of underwear, however, she had realised this conundrum yesterday and had plenty of time to do a load of laundry, she had simply wanted to push the brunette into enforcing one of her 'rules'.

"Ah, you can't lie to me you brat. I saw you check your drawers last night, you made the choice to tease me by wearing those. That's why I decided to wear this." She then pushed herself firmly into JJ's backside, allowing the blonde to feel what she had concealed underneath her dress pants.

"Oh my god! You're packing!" JJ practically squealed as she felt the hard length against her ass and thighs. The thought of Emily wearing a strap-on in the office all day sent a gush of wet and heat right to her core.

"Now you know the rule about these flimsy little things Jennifer." Emily said trying to control the amount of desire in her voice. "If I catch you wearing them I get to fuck you immediately, no matter what. Only I am adding another rule today, because you insisted on wearing this to work, you are not allowed to make a single noise while I fuck you. If you do I will stop immediately and I will not let you orgasm for a week." She said all of this with absolute authority whilst playing with the small amount of panty visible from the top of the askew skirt. "Do I make myself clear?" She again raised her eyes to meet the blue ones in the mirror. JJ nodded her assent, absolutely desperate to be railed and not willing to risk compromising that possibility by being any more of a brat today.

"Good girl." Emily said as she undid her thin leather work belt and pulled her pants open enough to free the dildo from the confines of the boyshorts that were holding it tight to her body. Once it was free she turned her attention to the clothing keeping her from her target, she grasped JJ's skirt from the hem and pulled it up around the blondes hips until the bottom of her ass was hanging out and Emily could access her core. She bent the blonde down further over the counter and ran one hand through her folds. "Already so wet for me." She purred at the feeling "Were you thinking of me all day? Thinking how I would own you in these little white panties, hmm?" The sight of JJ bent over and blushing at her words was getting to be too much for Emily. She quickly aligned herself with the blondes center, pulled the scrap of fabric aside and carefully rubbed the tip of her dick through the wet folds, gathering slick before pushing in just enough to stretch her tight entrance. Even the small movements made the dildo push back against Emily's clit and her growing arousal made each movement feel even better.

JJ tried to keep from making noise at the initial intrusion, the sudden stretching of her opening was always one of her favorite sensations, but she bit her lip firmly and dropped her chin to her chest in an effort to discourage any noise from escaping her throat. After a moment she felt Emily begin sliding slowly into her, pausing every inch or so to allow her to adjust for a moment. Even in her rough dominate mindset Emily always made sure to make JJ comfortable and not cause her any unintentional pain, a fact which made JJ love her even more. After the brunette had bottomed out and her hips sat flush with JJ's ass, she paused for a long stretch. Growing impatient the blonde pushed her ass back and rocked against the other woman's hips encouraging her to move.

"Oh impatient little thing aren't you?" Emily smirked. She quickly drew the dildo back before slamming it into the blonde, impressed that the other woman managed to not make a sound. She continued this rough and fast ministration, enjoying the feelings radiating up into her core and stimulating her deliciously. She could hear JJ's breathing picking up and watched as her knuckles whitened where she gripped the counter firmly for support. "Open your shirt. I want to see your tits bounce while I fuck you." The brunette demanded.

JJ began unbuttoning her blouse as Emily continued to pound into her, the change in angle as she straightened caused the dildo to hit her G-spot perfectly. As she was finishing the last button and opening the shirt fully, Emily let go of her hips to reach forward and rip down the cups of her bra, exposing her nipples. JJ drew in a sharp breath at the possessive and desperate act, thrilled with the sight of Emily's eyes fixed on her chest as it bounced in time to her movements. With the new visual stimuli Emily picked up her pace and used the blondes hips as leverage to pound into her forcefully.

Emily was nearing climax from both the movements of the base of the dick against her clit and the sight of JJ flushed and desperately trying to hold in the numerous noises she usually made during sex, especially rough sex. She knew by the pink tint of the blondes chest and the way her breath was getting ragged that she was close too. "Look me in the eyes Jennifer. I want you to watch me while I destroy you." Once she saw the blue eyes through the mirror she reached forward and found the blondes clit and began massaging it vigorously. Emily watched completely entranced as the blondes face began to contort with pleasure and her muscles clamped onto her dick making it harder to move in and out. JJ let out a strangled cry as she came, Emily couldn't even bring herself to care as she too climaxed. She continued to thrust into the blonde as they both rode out their orgasms together.

After she began to come down from her pleasure she stilled her movements before pulling out of the blonde slowly. She quickly turned and used paper towels to wipe down the length of the dildo, she would not be able to clean it properly until she returned home. After securing it back in her underwear and fastening her pants she turned back to the other woman.

JJ was just finishing buttoning her shirt after returning her now slightly wrinkled skirt to its correct position. She turned to face Emily once her appearance was more in order. Emily quickly captured the blondes lips in a passionate and dominate kiss, "When we get home I'm going to have to punish you for making noise." She promised with a teasing whisper. Then she turned on her heel and left the bathroom, leaving JJ to collect herself before returning to her desk as if nothing had happened.

[madlad-sadgal]

Y'all liked it so here's a few more things I noticed in my watching of Nimona (again).

Nimona Spoilers!

We get a small section of Ball's innocence wall, and we see that his primary suspect is none other than Thodeus "Todd" Sureblade. Also, Blackheart is used everywhere, most likely as a nod to the comic, but also as what the media has dubbed this new villain, as we do as a society in real life. Giving certain famous serial killers names is an example.

Nimona did some drawings and said it was because she wanted her resume to pop, but it was most likely because she can't write or read as no one really took the time to explain it or teach her.

"Lay low until we RISE LIKE A FIERY PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES TO OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT!" Nimona not only spoiled her shifting into a phoenix to save the realm from the canon, but also her coming back (rising from her ashes like a phoenix)

We get another shot of Bal's innocence wall, and there we see a place where he circled in red "Who has the ressources for a laser like that?" And honestly, to me, it reminded me of what the canon did, which would explain the Director, since she clearly has access to the canons. The laser in Bal's sword, the laser in her staff, and finally the laser from the canon. Everything was her.

The Director was most likely acting overly dramatic when talking to Bal because she wanted to reinforce the guilt, and maybe even gaslight him into thinking it was his fault.

As the Director is leaving, we can see Nimona sneaking in as a mouse in the bottom left corner.

When we see the beat up knights, in the upper left corner, you can see a knight stuck in a vending machine, which I just found funny.

The light reflecting off Nimona's eyes, indicating her clear difference from everyone else.

When Nimona throws her axe, it hits a knight in the background who then falls off a ledge and falls down a few stories, so she may have actually killed someone.

We can clearly see Ambrosius go through so many emotions when he sees Bal again; relief that he's alive and he didn't kill him, guilt for his arm when he glanced at the prosthetic, confusion when Nimona calls him Nemesis, and surprise when she drags Bal away. Also, when she drags him into the closet, we get a short shot of Ambrosius half way through unsheathing his sword.

Bal's "Did you see the way he looked at me?" Being a parallel to Nimona's "Did you see the way that little girl looked at me?"

Nimona quite literally rips a pole in half and bends it over the door to keep it closed, showing a great amount of strength.

The "You're gonna die in this closet!" Joke that we all catches but I still wanted to point out because it's funny.

As Nimona is falling through the floors as a whale, she tells us that Todd canonically has a small dick ("Cold in here?")

I saw this pointed out once, but still wanted to as well, but Nimona says that she spruced up the Lair by making it more evil, but she quite literally adds Christmas lights, showing her childish side.

When we get another shot of the new murder wall, we can see the picture of Todd again, except Nimona drew a fist punching him in the face.

That's what I have so far. Might do more if y'all like this!

[wire-smith-crafts]

Hi, your crafts are so incredibly cool! How did you get into wirecrafting? Do you have any favorite resources for learning about it?

Thank you! Unfortunately no specific tutorials or anything because I never really decided to get into this as a hobby. Rather I started playing with paper clips and staples when I was bored in lower school, and then over the years things... escalated. Better materials, better tools, more ambitious projects. Some day I will learn to weld these thin pieces of metal together instead of just tying them in place or twisting them together, and then I will be unstoppable.

If it helps, the two ways I think of wire is (a) lesser blacksmithing/machining and (b) that game where you try to draw a shape without your pencil leaving the paper. I pick a shape I want, figure out the path (or paths) to "draw" it in 3D space and how to anchor those strands to each other, and then immortalize that idea in metal. No heat, just pliers sturdy enough to bend the wire and reduce the number of times I stab myself on the loose ends.

I can definitely recommend some specific wire suppliers and materials and their tradeoffs, but really anything will work as long as you are physically able to bend it and as long as it holds its shape when bent. The "picture hanger" section of many hardware stores is a great place to look. Find something between about gauge 18 and 24 to start, and try it!