#Blanking Line Manufacturer

[sharmapress]

Understanding the Basics of Circle Blanking Line Operations

Circle blanking lines are a pivotal part of many industries, and their operation significantly impacts productivity and efficiency. As a renowned Blanking Line Supplier in India, SMT Parkash is here to provide a fundamental understanding of these robust machines and their operation.

To begin with, a circle blanking line is a specialized piece of machinery used in various industries to cut circular pieces out of sheet metal. Industries ranging from automotive to appliance manufacturing use these machines to create precision parts that form the basis of countless products we use daily.

Core Basics of Circle Blanking Line Machine

The circle blanking line operation can be broken down into a few core steps:

Material Loading

The first step is loading the sheet metal into the machine. The metal can be a variety of types, depending on the required end product.

Feeding

The metal sheet is then fed into the machine. This process must be precise to ensure a clean cut.

Cutting/Blanking

The machine then cuts or "blanks" the metal into circular pieces. This is done using a die and punch mechanism. The upper part of the die pushes into the lower part, cutting the metal in the process.

Material Unloading

Once the circular pieces have been cut, they are then unloaded from the machine and prepared for the next stages of manufacturing.

As a trusted Blanking Line Manufacturer in India, SMT Parkash emphasizes the importance of understanding these steps as they're essential for the effective operation of a circle blanking line. Operating these machines requires precision, understanding of the machine’s mechanics, and knowledge of safety procedures.

Moreover, the choice of machinery matters significantly. A well-designed, high-quality circle blanking line can increase the efficiency and productivity of your operations apart from ensuring a longer lifespan and lower maintenance costs of your manufacturing units. SMT Parkash, as a leading Blanking Line Supplier in India, is committed to providing top-quality machinery that meets your unique operational needs.

Remember, understanding the basics is just the beginning. From choosing the right machine and material to maintaining the equipment and troubleshooting issues, there's a lot more to learn about circle blanking lines.

So, whether you're a seasoned industrialist or just starting your journey, SMT Parkash stands out as a reliable Blanking Line Manufacturer and Supplier in India. We take pride in being the leading Circle Blanking Line Supplier in the nation. To delve deeper into the basics of Circle Blanking Line operations and discover the ideal machine tailored to your needs, we cordially invite you to arrange a demo with our highly skilled engineers. Together, let's embark on a journey towards elevated productivity, operational efficiency, and industrial growth. Contact us today to start this exciting journey!

[maxlarens]

(idk how concepts work) would love your thoughts on Oscar trying to flirt especially when Logan/Lando/Alex/George are around

under the cut because i went ON and ON

aaooh so first of all i think oscar is a terrible flirter. or at least the typical idea of flirting. he cannot say a pick up line with any level of seriousness. he blushes too much. just can’t do the suave smooth thing at all on purpose.

i think his idea of flirting is sarcastic jokes, teasing sorry so like exactly how he talks to lando and being near you— like sitting so your arms are touching, or randomly playing with strands of ur hair, that kind of thing! and occasionally pulling out a veering-on-suggestive comment or complimenting you, but that would come after being friends i think.

anyway. i think the pressure of other people would make it soo much worse for him. he can flirt with u enough when it’s just the two of you, push boundaries and get closer and all that stuff. but when his friends are around ohmygod it would be bad.

lando and logan would be THE WORST culprits. i can see oscar trying something that just doesn’t land super well and logan snorts into his drink or lando starts giggling😭 i think they’d be paying attention to you two Always, trying to manufacture situations where oscar can shoot his shot or just keeping an eye on how it’s going. and they’re soo well meaning about it because they want oscar to be happy but it doesn’t really help because oscar is SUCHH a slow burn kinda guy. idk i just see it taking a while, lots of subtle things building up into something u eventually can’t ignore. i think he’s very happy to meet the relationship where it’s at.

lando would absolutely try to push oscars buttons by making flirty comments at u and when oscar is like BRO? lando just tells him to make a move if it bothers him so much. logan would not do that but he’d be very content to take the absolute piss out of you and oscar. publicly and privately. and he would not stifle his instinct to laugh at you two whatsoever. you spend the whole time thinking that logan’s got something wrong with him😭

and okay on george and alex. i think they’d be less ~in tune~ with the whole thing because lando and logan probably know oscar better. but im torn between whether i think george or alex would catch on immediately. mm yeah actually i think george might clock it right away— like take one look at the two of you and go oh okay they’ve got mega crushes on each other and neither of them quite know it. BUTTT i think alex would be the only one brave enough to say something to your faces. you’d be having dinner or lunch or something with them all and you and oscar would be sitting next to each other giggling, playing ur usual game of chicken 😭 and alex just point blank goes: “so are you guys dating yet or what”

and you would both go TOTALLY red and lando and logan would spend the rest of the meal laughing their heads off. and i think after that you’d have to finally acknowledge it lol.

but anyway, i kinda didn’t get into this, but i think oscar would just be a stuttering mess while trying to flirt with u when others are around. stumbling over his words, making awkward jokes that reveal a little too much, staring at u too long, weird lingering touches, LAUGHING TOO LOUD. he’d be fine if the conversation were about something entirely normal, but if it starts veering into anything about relationships in general/you/dating/etc… mm yeah poor boy would not survive.

[fatehbaz]

Indigenous genocide and removal from land and enslavement are prerequisites for power becoming operationalized in premodernity, a way in which subjects get (what Wynter names) “selected” or “dysselected” from geography and coded into colonial possession through dispossession. The color line of the colonized was not merely a consequence of these structures of colonial power or a marginal effect of those structures; it was/is a means to operationalize extraction (therefore race should be considered as foundational rather than as periphery to the production of those structures and of global space). Richard Eden, in the popular 1555 publication Decades of the New World, compares the people of the “New World” to a blank piece of “white paper” on which you can “paynte and wryte” whatever you wish. “The Preface to the Reader” describes the people of these lands as inanimate objects, blank slates [...]. [Basically, "Man" is white, while non-white people are reduced to an aspect of the landscape, a resource.] Wynter suggests that we [...] consider 1452 as the beginning of the New World, as African slaves are put to work on the first plantations on the Portuguese island of Madeira, initiating the “sugar-slave” complex - a massive replantation of ecologies and forced relocation of people [...]. Wynter argues that the invention of the figure of Man in 1492 as the Portuguese [and Spanish] travel to the Americas instigates at the same time “a refiguring of humanness” in the idea of race. This refiguring of slaves trafficked to gold mines is borne into the language of the inhuman [...].

---

The natal moment of the 1800 Industrial Revolution, [...] [apparently] locates Anthropocene origination in [...] the "new" metabolisms of technology and matter enabled by the combination of fossil fuels, new engines, and the world as market. [...] The racialization of epistemologies of life and nonlife is important to note here [...]. While [this industrialization] [...] undoubtedly transformed the atmosphere with [...] coal [in the nineteenth century], the creation of another kind of weather had already established its salient forms in the mine and on the plantation. Paying attention to the prehistory of capital and its bodily labor, both within coal cultures and on plantations that literally put “sugar in the bowl” (as Nina Simone sings) [...]. The new modes of material accumulation and production in the Industrial Revolution are relational to and dependent on their preproductive forms in slavery [...].

---

Catherine Hall’s project Legacies of British Slave-Ownership makes visible the complicity in terms of structures of slavery and industrialization that organized in advance the categories of dispossession that are already in play and historically constitute the terms of racialized encounter of the Anthropocene. In 1833, Parliament finally abolished slavery in the British Caribbean, and the taxpayer payout of £20 million in “compensation” [paid by the government to slave owners for their lost "property"] built the material, geophysical (railways, mines, factories), and imperial infrastructures of Britain and its colonial enterprises and empire. As the project empirically demonstrates, these legacies of colonial slavery continue to shape contemporary Britain. A significant proportion of funds were invested in the railway system connecting London and Birmingham (home of cotton production and [...] manufacturing for plantations), Cambridge and Oxford, and Wales and the Midlands (for coal). Insurance companies flourished and investments were made in the Great Western Cotton Company, for example, and in cotton brokers, as well as in big colonial land companies in Canada (Canada Land Company) and Australia (Van Diemen’s Land Company) and a number of colonial brokers. Investments were made in the development of metal and mineralogical technologies [...].

The slave-sugar-coal nexus both substantially enriched Britain and made it possible for it to transition into a colonial industrialized power [...]. The slave trade [...] fashioned the economic conditions (and institutions, such as the insurance and finance industries) for industrialization. Slavery and industrialization were tied by the various afterlives of slavery in the form of indentured and carceral labor that continued to enrich new emergent industrial powers from both the Caribbean plantations and the antebellum South. Enslaved “free” African Americans predominately mined coal in the corporate use of black power or the new “industrial slavery,” [...].

---

The labor of the coffee - the carceral penance of the rock pile, “breaking rocks out here and keeping on the chain gang” (Nina Simone, Work Song, 1966), laying iron on the railroads - is the carceral future mobilized at plantation’s end (or the “nonevent” of emancipation). [...] [T]he racial circumscription of slavery predates and prepares the material ground for Europe and the Americas in terms of both nation and empire building - and continues to sustain it.

---

All text above by: Kathryn Yusoff. "White Utopia/Black Inferno: Life on a Geologic Spike". e-flux Journal Issue #97. February 2019. At: e-flux dot com slash journal/97/252226/white-utopia-black-inferno-life-on-a-geologic-spike/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[bunnys-kisses]

jailhouse rock au - again! (master-list) <3

i imagine that simon would get rather insecure when you two were in public. while he adored you, he'd move the sun across the sky for you! but shouldn't you be with someone better?

someone who wasn't working a blue collar job in small parts manufacturing, who wasn't a former criminal? like simon stole and was locked away in the can for several years because of it! what kind of man would look a woman like you in the eyes and you'd say, 'i want you.', it left a clench in his gut that he couldn't get over.

he wanted to be good enough, but failed. just like he failed at being good enough for his father. sometimes his old man's words made him shiver at inopportune times.

"simon." you said.

"yes, love." his attention was drawn to you.

you leaned over, closer to him and rubbed his forehead softly, "you're getting worry lines."

he leaned in to kiss you, his hands were on your legs that were draped over his lap. he said, "sorry, love."

but no matter how much the anxiety bit at him, you loved him with your whole heart. you never shielded your love away from him, you found that when you were with him, you simply lit up. you could do all the mushy couples stuff together.

"we should go on the ferris wheel!"

"look there's a photobooth over there."

"i'm grabbing another straw to try some of that milkshake of yours!"

and simon ate it up. and as you got further into your pregnancy, you became more "mushy" as you said. you'd cry more often, but you weren't a weak woman. if anything you still commanded your little household more than before. because now simon couldn't say no to his pregnant girlfriend.

"yes, love." he said to your request as he was nuzzled up with your belly. he basked in its warmth for a minute before he got up to do what you asked.

your life wasn't without arguments, simon could be closed off and have a dark storm cloud over his head. but he would never tell you why, it drove you crazy when it happened. you knew so much yet so little, you had his entire life mapped out but his childhood (the root of some of his issues) was entirely blank in your memory.

"speak to me, simon... i'll never judge."

"i don't wanna scare ya off."

you reached out for him and got as close as you could. you stood on your tiptoes to be more eye level. you held onto his face and said simply, "simon, if i was scared off. i would've never sent that letter."

and simon replied, "never leave." and pulled you into a tight hug. and for the first time in many years, he cried. he cried so hard that he had to go on his knees with you because he felt so weak.

he was your lover, your pen pal! he was everything. and as you kissed him on the cheek you said, "nothing will ever take us away from one another."

-

later that evening, you thought you'd be sweet and feed him crisps from the bag while his head was in your lap. while he softly licked the seasoning off your fingers, you let out a small moan.

simon smiled a bit, his heart of ice was completely melted with you. and with a hand up the skirt of your maternity dress. his tongue was on your fingers while his fingers were skimming your pussy.

"tomorrow." you said, "i want to know everything i can about simon riley."

he looked up at you with those dark eyes of his. he nodded and said, "of course, love. now c'mere."

let's say that the most fun you ever had having sex with him up to that point was when he took you on the couch. however it did leave you with a pretty bruise on your knees from pressed into the base of the couch while you rode him. <3

[vigilskeep]

i have never thought of the bg3 paths as railroaded before but oh my god... i see your vision. i think that, for all that can be picked apart in the writing of dragon age, the worldbuilding in that series is so so interested in complicating all factions that you can envision a character who /makes sense/ while bouncing through various ideologies. and the sort of fantasy writing in (most of) the forgotten realms doesn't really allow for that.

dao is particularly the light of my life because the origins mechanic is specifically intended to let you create a character who has a distinctive perspective on the world that’s grounded in the worldbuilding. one of my favourite aspects of this is several origins having completely different codex entries on their own culture as opposed to those an outsider would get. it’s really good! it’s also a reasonably grounded world (while obviously silly) because, like, the basic fundamental premise of thedas, from which they ikea flatpack built almost every feature, is “how would people react to magical and fantastical diversity? the same way they react to human diversity.” you’re meant to feel like, aside from i guess the darkspawn, people are normal and have real motivations. sure it has to fulfil certain roles in a story, and dragon age was manufactured too quickly and purposefully for everything to land feeling authentic, but evil in dragon age should feel recognisable. and in most of the origins they give you a chance to do something that is bad, but also totally makes sense, because of the context of your character belonging to this world where these things happen

in dnd/the forgotten realms it’s a bit different because capital e Evil exists, so there are people and deities and devils (and, to open another can of worms, races) whose entire goal is to Do Evil. it’s also harder to produce grounded evil because in a world where i’m being given basically no context and just told to make whatever i want, i don’t have an inch of the kind of social information i get from for example a dao origin: what my character has been taught to believe they should do to survive, who they are willing to sacrifice, whatever. bg3 also happens to have a main plot goal that is, at least for the first part of the game, broadly selfish (“i am sick, and i need a cure”) which works really well for getting a bunch of people with vastly differing moral standards to band together for the same goal, and not so good for any kind of “greater good” type blurred morality, so that’s out too

however much the worldbuilding factors into this, bg3 specifically went for quite a clear distinction between the good path and the capital e Evil Path, and i find it pretty hard to vary up the good path. when i say railroaded i mean you either do the specific thing that gets you a quest down the line or not. i was really disappointed actually in my playthrough where i totally fucked up in the druids’ grove and caused a fight to break out, because it immediately instakilled tons of characters i knew i would need down the line. the few it spared needed some of the dead ones to stay alive in later quests, so it’s like... oh. that’s just... over. for both factions. bg3 arguably lets you do basically anything you want but they are able to do that because if you fuck around it just breaks the entire quest line from coming up again, which means playing a character who fucks up is not even really going to get me consequences it’s just going to cut content from the game. does that make sense? and then the Evil Path is just straight up evil, like... there’s no way for me to complicate and empathise, here, especially playing a blank canvas character whose motivations i would have to make up from nothing, and who faces basically no consequences for not doing this. the only neutral/cowardly/self-interested option in act 1 is to do neither path, which gets me the least content because i literally don’t get to play the fucking game

i don’t know, i’m not saying it’s necessarily bad just that it’s hard for me, personally, and how i like to create characters. especially when you have my constant restart disease and you have to do this all over again a dozen times just for a handful of different dialogue. does any of that make sense

[fuck-customers]

All the time and effort it took you to be stupid and immature, you could've easily fixed the root problem correctly?

So maybe half of the products in the store don't have price tags on them or on the shelf that they're on. Why? Because my manager is a braindead moron. The only things that do have a price on them are the items that have the price printed onto the actual product box by the manufacturer.

Obviously this causes a lot of problems, as customers (reasonably) want to know what the price of an item is before buying it.

(And don't do dumb shit that makes me side with the customers. I hate them more than almost anything, but sometimes what's stupid is stupid)

So what I've done is taken the price gun that is "supposed" to be for clearance items and used it to put the prices on all the items in the queue line that didn't have prices. (Which is basically every piece of candy and all of the miscellaneous seasonal items the company is pushing) The reason I did this instead of printing out the "correct" yellow sale tags is because the only printer and the only mobile printer are both kept in another department far away from the register. (I did sneak it to the register with the plan to tag items and the battery was dead, so that was fun)

Instead of just leaving it alone, as it was bothering literally no one. Or better yet, actually printing out the correct tags, my braindead moronager covered all the price stickers with blank stickers.

So I just wrote the prices back in.

Posted by admin Rodney

[thepersonnamedsam]

taylor, nando and you - fa14

pairing: Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x Taylor Swift

summary: As rumours sparked up that your secret boyfriend was dating Taylor Swift, you joke about having to lose the competition to the all mother. 

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just mother mothering, age of reader is not defined, cheating allegations, only if you squint

note: enjoy this about the allegations with Fernando and our mother :)

masterlist / taglist

Is Fernando Alonso dating Taylor Swift?

Good Morning Los Angeles

Alonso who competes with the British car manufacture ‘Aston Martin’ is being linked with the multiple Grammy winner and singer-songwriter Taylor Swift. Between the singer and race-car-driver speculations have been mounting the last few days of them possibly dating. 

The Spaniard even adds fuel to the whole dating sparks igniting a fire between them. The F1 driver posts a TikTok with Swift’s song Karma playing in the background. Fans read between the lines and reacted to the Video with comments such as “He definitely knows” or “Alexa play ‘I think he know’ by Taylor Swift”. 

Taylor, recently going through a breakup and Alonso that has not been linked with a girlfriend of his, this means that the possibility of the driver and singer dating has just grown. With Taylor Swift breaking up with long-term boyfriend Joe Alwyn, which is why people might try to put two and two together and speculate that the American and the F1 driver might be dating. 

April 2023

The article laid open on your phone, having just read the post from Good Morning Los Angeles. Your brain roamed a thousand thoughts. Nando and Taylor? You and Nando have been dating secretly for the past two years, with you working as a kindergarten teacher, you wouldn’t want to have the media on you all day. Wanting to protect the children and their identity and also yours. You weren’t ready to step a foot into the famous world. But dating rumours including Nando did kind of hurt you. And Taylor Swift of all the famous women he could have been linked with. 

You know the rumours weren’t true, because he was dating you and how in the world would Nando have connections to be dating the All Mother? But you knew, you wouldn’t stand a chance against her. It is Taylor Swift after all – a twelve-time Grammy winner and over all just a goddess. 

Fernando was standing in the kitchen and preparing lunch for them. Not having known about the dating rumours with him and Taylor Swift. His hips swaying lightly to music in the background. Humming lightly and swaying from left to right, his body lightly dancing around the stove. 

Fernando was everything you wanted in a man. Kind and genuine, soft, and sweet and just in general perfect for you. Your relationship was written by a woman, Taylor Swift by all means. He is the man you had never thought to be true. 

You heard your boyfriend singing in the kitchen and your thoughts about him possibly cheating left your mind. This man would never do anything to harm you or anyone particularly. So, thinking about your man dancing and swinging in the kitchen, preparing a meal for you to eat, you had to start smiling. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen you saw him put the dishes away and whistling to Karma by Taylor Swift. It was ironic, you reading about the allegations with him and Taylor and Nando just dancing to her song. 

“You know there are rumours about you dating Taylor Swift?”, with a light smile on your face you watched as he turned his body towards you. “What? Who?”, his face twisted to a confused look. You starred at him with a blank face, blinking at him. “She sings the song you’re listening to right now”, your voice confused and filled with humour. “Oh, her. No, I didn’t know. Should I have known?” A light smiled played on your lips. You just loved his simplicity, not caring about what others think about him or you and just making his own opinion on things. 

“Do you think it’s true?”, concern grazed his look. He didn’t want you to think that way about him. He didn’t want you to think, that he’s keeping this relationship a secret to have other romantic relations. 

“No, of course not, my love”, your voice light and a smile on your face. “I just find it funny, I just read an article about it and now you’re dancing to her in the kitchen making me lunch.” 

“I only have eyes for you, corazón”, brown eyes staring into yours. Your heart was pounding heavy, filled with love and affection for the man standing in front of you. “I know, but you know if I really had to compete with Taylor Swift, she’d win, no, I’d steal her from you, what am I talking about, she’s so mother”, you told him. Taylor Swift was everybody’s crush, even if they didn’t know it. “What? I don’t understand, you would date your mother?” Fernando was visibly confused, not understanding the terminology.

“Oh Nando, no, if someone is mothering or someone say’s they’re so mother, they don’t mean their actual mother. It’s a term used for respecting powerful women, just like Taylor Swift”, having been on the internet, it was not the first time about hearing women mothering. But Fernando has heard of this term for the first time. 

“When we’re already talking about the internet, did you post a TikTok recently?”, thinking back about the article that said, that Nando was igniting a fire between them with a TikTok. “A what, corazón? A Clock?” – “No, a TikTok, oh c’mon Nando, you’re not that old, you know what a TikTok is!” Your light-hearted laugh made him smile, you were right, he knew what a TikTok was, he just wanted to see you smile. But he would have to disagree about the not being so old part, because he definitely felt old sometimes. 

“I did, my social media manager made me post one, but I don’t remember about what exactly, I was just sitting there and had to wink”, he explained and took out some plates to place your lunch on. Having almost forgotten about the food, you smiled at him and had to chuckle lightly. “I saw it, it was to the song you were just dancing to, according to Good Morning Los Angeles you ignited a fire between you and Taylor”, you laughed at him. 

You were grateful for having such a good relationship with Fernando, laughing, and smiling in the kitchen, and joking about cheating allegations. He was proud to have a girlfriend like you, so secure in yourself and proud that even those rumours weren’t making you insecure. He was glad to have someone by his like you. He never wanted to lose you. 

“I love you so much, mi corazón”, having two plates in his hand and walking towards you he couldn’t hug you, so he just opted for a quick but passionate kiss to your lips. “I love you too, old man.” 

[brains4brawn]

Journalled

It was a small thing, tucked away in the corner of the thrift shop. Victor had pulled it out, but the book was locked and bound in gold and wouldn't open. His mind piqued, Victor bought the book and took it home. Over the next week He tried everything to undo the clasp but nothing worked. When he had just lost hope a tiny but audible Click could be heard, Victor rushed back to find the clasp undone and the bindings slightly ajar.

Victor carefully opened the ancient tome only to find that the pages were stuck. it was like they had been glued! Only the last page remained free. Written towards the top if fancy handwriting

"Write it down so i can enact Be-warned Though, What is written I can not retract!"

Under neath that was 5 evenly spaced lines. and another message at the bottom,

"I only remain open for this 1 day Until 5 complete Earth circle's will I open again"

Looking at the the 3 blank lines, And thinking this must be a joke he wrote

I will graduate from college

My older brother will never pick on me again

Over the next 20 years I will gain 150lbs

As Victor finished the book slammed shut and relocked itself. Scared Victor threw the book into his closet and ran down stairs.

That night his family recieved word that Victor's older brother was in a bad car crash. He was alive but in the ICU and had lost his legs. Certainly the taller brother would never pick on the shorter Victor again.

The crash had been the fault of the manufacturer so the family received and huge settlement. This money paid for Victor's choice of college.

Two years later, when Victor was home from college for the summer and his mother commented that he was finally starting to get bigger.

The 20 Year old checked the scale and sure enough he weighed 140, 15lbs heaver then when he was 18. Victor knew it had to be the book.

Victor: 22, 155lbs

The College graduate was now 23 and moving all of his stuff from his half of the bedroom to his first apartment when he stumbled across the book. Looking at the date on the wall Victor realized it was exactly 5 years since he had last seen the cursed object. As if it had a mind of its own the book opened to the last page, now with three new empty lines waiting to be filled.

Victor hesitated, he had imagined for the last 5 years what he'd do if he had this chance again. He could fix everything!

My older brother James develops a prosthesis so he can walk and run again.

My younger sisters will grow into smart talented women who will want for nothing.

Looking at his tiny 15 year old brother Bastion asleep on the bed Victor writes:

Bastion will grow up to be the popular jock just like his older brother.

Satisfied, the book shuts itself and prepares to grant Victor's wish.

Victor 24, 170lbs

For the most part the Wishes went like Victor planned. Well except for Bastion's. In the proceeding months after writing those words Victor found himself becoming more popular and Jock-like. Words like Bro or Bruh, dude, man, had taken over. He joined a gym and from there joined some local sports teams. When he wasn't busy at work or working out Victor could be found screwing every chick he could find. No girl was immune to his baby faced charms and his Gym sculpted body.

Victor 26 185lbs

Victor 28 200lbs

Victor practically lives in the Gym now. His gains speak for themselves his body is a temple and he loves for chicks to worship him. His younger sisters call him a man whore, while Bastion is turning out just like him.

His girlfriend of 6 months broke up with him cause she caught him in bed with her mother.

Looking in his closet he stumbles over the Book, open and waiting for him to write something down.

In his jealousy of those gay guys who can sleep with anyone he wrote:

I'm like 100% gay, no chicks only dicks.

I wont get any STD's from sex.

Sex with me will change anyone's life.

Again the book closes and gets to work.

Victor 30, 215lbs

Vic the dick had been out for 2 years now, the book took the man whore and turned him into a man slut. Everyone wanted a piece of him and at least Vic was smart enough to charge them for his services. Every option on the table is open he'd do any guy and make them feel like his number1. Every guy he slept with changed, most upped their stamina but some hunked out into gay sluts just like Vic.

Hell even Bastion had come out and if the rumors are true he's slept with every guy at his college.

Vic 32 230lbs

Vic was becoming something of a local celebrity in the gay community. His looks had caught the eye of a movie producer and now he was staring in low budget action movies as the gay savior. He had been so busy that he wasn't home for his 33rd birthday. Some how the book found him on location in the bottom of his travel bag.

Vic watched as it opened up to the last page with 3 empty spaces.

He took his time and pondered over what he should write.

I want to find true love

I want to be content

I want to be smart again

The book seemed to close with a sigh. None of these were worth the trouble of granting. But a deal is a deal.

Vic 34, 245lbs

Vic, 38, 275lbs

Finally after 20 years, Vic had stopped growing. Life had settled down for the Gay icon, nowadays, he owned a successful chain of LGBTQIA Gyms that catered towards the community needs. He organized Pride events and helped with protests when needed. He looked at the open book on his desk. It was tempting but Vic no longer wanted to change anything about his life. Even though he had never found a lifelong partner.

He decided he had held on to the magic for to long, so he summoned his newest intern Jack and gave the book to him then let him leave so he could explore this newest acquisition.

*bright flash of Light*

The intercom beeps and Vic pushes the button.

"Sir your husband just arrived to collect you. He wants to remind you that you still have to pick up the kids and get changed for tonights ceremony"

Before he could even answer the door burst open and Vic's husband of 7 years strolled in. Vic was already out of his chair and giving Jack a pec on the cheek while grabbing his toned ass.

On his way out Vic glanced at the family photo on his desk and gave a silent thanks to the book.

[spiegelgestalt]

I want you to want me (Part 1/3) - Privileged boy learns to consider other people's feelings

So here's the thing. I don't believe Jinshis communication issue is keeping his desires to himself. That boy if he wants something will make his desire known if you want it or not. He will chase you with his gaze, he will try to feed you honey, he will shower you with gifts, he will declare that he will marry you in front of everyone via symbolism anyone who isn't pretending to not get the hint would get the hint.

Jinshis real issue is recognizing boundaries, excepting them and not treat people like things. He actively has to fight the mindset that he just can do everything what he wants. And in the beginning no one his helping with this (sorry not even Gaoshun and Surei). This is an issue people with power/privilege often run into because the more power you have the less people will tell you no directly to your face. You have to intuit it.

Let me show you some of the development Jinshi goes through in LN 1 (consider this your spoiler warning also my hand slipped, this will be long and disorganized and will have a part two)

The hairpin scene

"This hurts Sir!" This time she didn't hide her displeasure. [...] "Does it? I give this to you"

The scene begins with Jinshis getting closer and closer to Mao Mao who for once isn't wearing her freckles. Gaoshun notes that he looks like a boy who's playing with his toys. Banter starts then Mao Mao tells Jinshi that she disguises her face because she doesn't want unwanted attention from men. She doesn't want to be raped, she doesn't want to be kidnapped, she wants to be left alone. Jinshi learns that Mao Mao isn't in the rear palace because her family sold her into it but because she was kidnapped and sold. But it wouldn't make a difference to her either way. This does something to him because he has to consider for the first time that Mao Mao isn't in the Rear Place because of her own choice. She's unfree and that makes him feel bad. So how does he react to that revelation? He doesn't ask what she needs or wants he just stabs (HA! I'm so funny) her with his own desire to protect her and leaves it at that. And thing is, giving Mao Mao the hairpin is a nice thing to do - the hairpin is basically Mao Maos ticket out of the rear palace if she wants to use it. It's protection, it's safety, it's freedom in a certain way. BUT it also means that she belongs to him and Jinshi doesn't consider even for a second that this is something Mao Mao wouldn't want. Even though all she's giving him are dirty looks. He wants her, so she belongs to him. She is his toy. He's absolutely blindsided by Mao Mao not relying on him. That's why he thinks he has a right to question Mao Mao who Lihaku is once she used Lihakus hair pin instead of Jinshis. And to give credit were credit is due he accepts that Mao Mao doesn't want to use his hairpin. He accepts the boundary once he realizes it's there. But this is something he really struggles with.

Please execute me with poison

This is another important scene for Jinshi and it shakes him to his core: after a Courtesan kills herself Mao Mao tells him point blank that she can't refuse him because he has the power to have her executed. And this manufactures non consent even if Jinshi would never ever give the order. This is something Jinshi didn't realize and didn't want to know. Powerful people rarely want to know why people consent to their actions.

But once he knows he wants real enthusiastic consent from Mao Mao. He just has no idea how to get this consent. And he doesn't know yet that Mao Mao feels safer when she's just a tool but he will learn that too, because he values Mao Maos feelings even though he will make a lot and I mean a LOT of mistakes on the way. Some of those mistakes might be dealbreakers for some people. Not me though because i see this through line and I find it important! It's his character arc. One of the reasons Jinshi and Mao Mao get to have the semi equal relationship they have in LN 10 is because Jinshi actively wanted her to be his equal. Mao Mao would have been fine to just follow orders. Gaoshun notes that she is a useful and willing tool. Jinshi makes everything more difficult for himself. But only because he does, there is a chance for a real relationship to bloom.

(SN: This makes him different from Lakan who I really like but let's face it: Lakan doesn't respect Mao Maos wishes at all. Lakan desires Mao Mao as a daughter and wants to take her away. He never even stops to consider that Mao Mao already has a father. He also never considers that she might like the brothel she grew up in. He just wants to be close to her. In one of the later Novels Mao Mao mentions that she can't give him even an inch because he would never let go afterwards. It's this desire she dislikes)

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[cherrycolored-punk]

for softember could you do argyle with the prompt “You look really good in my clothes.” and have it be smut? thank u!!

fight the feeling - argyle x fem!reader

author’s note: thank you for requesting this, it was so much fun writing for Argyle for the first time and to get my first ever request 😭 I hope this is what you were looking for and that you love it as much as I loved writing it xx

also big thanks to @trashmouth-richie and @rebelfell for helping me brainstorm this lil’ blurb 🥹🧡 I would still be staring at a blank doc if it weren’t for their big brains

w/c: 4.5k

warnings: smut (protected p in v), oral (Argyle receiving), fingering. Please let me know if I forgot anything ����

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

In the midst of fall, you wouldn’t be able to tell the season has changed in Lenora Hills. Palm trees stand tall amongst the evergreens and push into the cloudless night sky. The only indication that autumn has arrived is the chill in the breeze, the weather dipping to cooler temperatures each night. 

Tonight is the coldest so far. 

The breeze chases your fleeing frames as you and Argyle race up the stairs to his apartment. His butterscotch skin bitten red along the expanse of his exposed arms, turning a bright cherry as he rubs his wide palms over them. Impatiently waiting for you to open the door with the keys he’d given you at the start of the night, the dress he wore didn’t have pockets.

“Hurry up,” he grumbles, nudging you gently.

You look at him over your lashes, the breeze blowing the long black wig squeezing your skull into your face.

“No one told you to wear that dress,” you tease, giving him a once-over. 

He’s outfitted in a baby blue, daisy-printed dress with white reeboks. His long, dark brown hair is braided in two pigtails on either side. His impression of you this Halloween…or so he said. You don’t dare argue how accurate you think it is.

“I just chose something I thought you’d wear,” he quips.

“That’s a summer dress,” you tease and open the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize dresses had seasons,” he scoffs as he follows you and closes the door behind him. 

His apartment smells distinctly of him. The scent his clothes always have when he pulls you in for a hug. Bergamot, with a hint of jasmine and sandalwood. In the warm, manufactured air, the soft scent of the pumpkin and vanilla candle you’d gifted him mingles. It makes the place feel cozier, like a warm blanket being wrapped around your shoulders.

“Pretty sure it’s common sense that spaghetti straps are for the summer,” you continue, making yourself at home as you rifle through his cabinets in an attempt to find something to satiate your hunger.

He falls silent, his eyes tracing over your face and down the clothes you wear. 

It’s an outfit you thrifted to match his aesthetic, his clothes. A pair of light wash jeans, a wildly patterned top over a plain white shirt, and Adidas to match. You went over the top with the wig and snatched his favorite hat to top it off.

It’s like looking in a mirror. Trippy and throws him a little off balance. 

He can’t help the butterflies that take flight in his abdomen.

There’s something about seeing you in such similar garb that makes his mind wander, imagining what you’d look like in other things he owned. A white t-shirt, no bra or a pair of his boxers, no top. His thoughts quickly spiraling to how your skin would feel beneath his fingertips. Soft as he traced lines up your legs and beneath the fabric of the boxers he’d lend you. Skin smelling sweet like cinnamon. 

“Earth to Argy,” you wave a hand in the air, and only then does he realize he’s been staring.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and averts his gaze, but you don’t miss how his cheeks blossom red.

“I said that I think we should order pizza, and I know someone who can still get us a pretty sweet discount at the best place in town,” your words are laced with a plea, and he shakes his head. 

“Y-yeah, I can call them,” he nods.

“Don’t forget,” you stop in front of him, resting your hands on his shoulders as though your next words hold the weight of the world, “pepperoni, pineapple, and jalapeños.”

He nods, a grin slotting into place as he looks at you. The only reason you even like that combination is because he introduced it to you. 

“How could I forget? That’s my order, dude,” he teases, reaching for the landline on the counter behind you. 

His body presses into yours briefly, the heat radiating from him and zipping to your core. You can’t help but stare at the length of his neck, hooded eyes watching how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows and imagining the sounds he’d make if you planted your lips on the sensitive spot near his ear.

“Did you want anything else?” He questions, already dialing the number. Oblivious to the longing shining in your eyes or how you swallow harshly as you straighten your shirt. 

“Uh, no. Get whatever,” you shrug and point a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to take a shower.” 

A cold shower. 

You press an absent hand on his forearm as you scoot past him.

“Coolio,” he nods, ”Just don’t use all of my soap like before,” he tries to joke, but his voice is strained, affected by the slight touch, and god, how can you not know what you do to him?

You stick your tongue out at him as you walk backward and to his bathroom. 

A total brat, he thinks, but even that is shrouded in some rose-colored haze. Affection clouding his thoughts.

He waves you off with an absent hand, purposefully averting his attention so he isn’t caught staring again.

You manage to appear casual, like you’re not still thinking about his body pressed against yours, until the bathroom door is closed and your back is pushed against it. You turn your head, a caricature of Argyle stares back at you in the mirror, questioning what the fuck you’re doing. 

He’s your best friend. 

Panic sets in, and you slam your eyes shut, chin tilting to the ceiling.

Over the years, you’d managed to push down any thoughts of your crush, but the feelings you’d long ignored were now rearing their ugly head. 

Vivid images of tangling your fingers in his hair, the plush of his lips pressed to yours, or how his hands would feel venturing over the curves of your body, gripping and kneading.

White hot need zips through you, and you let out a frustrated sigh. He’s just a friend, your best friend, and best friends don’t think about kissing or groping or how they’d feel inside you. 

You push off the door as the thoughts begin to spiral and reach a hand into the shower, ensuring the water is ice cold.

Quickly, you strip down and step into the frigid water—all thoughts of Argyle circling the drain along with the globs of soap you use. 

——

Twenty minutes later, you emerge from the shower, body still buzzing with need but not as loud as before. 

Argyle sits on the couch, hair hanging in waves from his undone braids, and his dress is exchanged for his usual garb: a pair of checkered parachute pants and an oversized Jimi Hendrix t-shirt.

Two boxes of pizza sit unopened on the coffee table, their aroma filling the living room. Basil, garlic, and the subtle sweetness of the pineapple.

“It’s already here?” You question, stomach grumbling and laser-focused on getting a slice.

He glances up, tracing his eyes over your now-exposed legs. Unable to fight the way his jaw goes slack when he sees you wearing a pair of boxers and the white shirt from before.

When he doesn’t respond, you look up at him with a face twisted in confusion. 

“What? It’s all I had,” you shrug, suddenly self-conscious, and play with the hem of the boxers you’d bought for the costume.

He’s still quiet, gawking as you settle beside him on the lumpy green couch he’d gotten from Salvation Army. 

“Stop staring. I know I look dumb,” you grumble, and it’s as if he’s just realized you’ve been speaking. 

“Not at all,” he shakes his head and turns to face you, “I think you look really good in my clothes,” he teases.

Though the words might be a joke, your heart still slams against your ribcage, and all you can do is roll your eyes to hide the effect they have on you.

“They’re not even your clothes,” you say weakly.

“Doesn’t matter, you look good,” he responds without missing a beat, the words fumbling from his mouth before he can think better of it. His hands itch to reach out and touch you, still wondering if you’re just as soft as he’s always imagined.

A moment passes, a charged silence filling the room as you try to process what he said because there’s no way he meant it the way you want him to.

“Shut up,” you nudge his head.

As you pull away, his hand reaches out. Gentle fingers circling your wrist.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you look back at him, slightly flustered. 

“What are you doing?” You all but whisper, and it feels like you’re running a fever under his gaze. His molten honey eyes filled with sweetness and an emotion you’d never seen. At least not directed at you. 

“I just,” he starts, but he’s distracted, unable to finish a sentence. His gaze flicks to your lips, and he licks his own

His eyes drift back to meet yours, measuring your response and making sure you want this, too. 

Even though you shouldn’t. 

God, you know you shouldn’t.

He’s your friend, he’s your friend, he’s your friend.

The two of you lean in, resembling two magnets unable to resist the pull. The rest of the world begins to fade, all coherent thought silenced by the overwhelming need to kiss him, and you can tell he feels it, too.

He reaches a hand forward and cups your jaw, a thumb resting on your chin as he pulls you closer. 

You tilt your head, breath catching in your throat as you anticipate the kiss. His mouth hovers above yours, the seconds ticking slower, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re sure you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Goosebumps sprout along your arms when lips finally press to yours, soft and sweet. Argyle takes his time, memorizing how your bottom lip curls into a smile beneath the kiss and dedicating the sound of your eager sighs to memory.

His other hand reaches out and holds your hip, fingers spread wide. The warmth of his palm felt through the thin fabric of your t-shirt.

Electricity courses through your veins as the kiss intensifies, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Fingertips curling in his hair as the other pulls him closer by the front of his shirt. Hesitant lips now hungry for more. 

Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, begging for entrance. Needing to taste him. 

The soft flesh of his tongue slides against yours, a small groan escaping his lips at the sensation. His grip on your hip tightens as he leans back against the couch's cushion, pulling you along. You willingly climb into his lap. Lips still latched to his in a frenzied kiss. It’s no longer sweet. It’s teeth and tongue—an untamed need. 

Your fingers knot into the long locks as you give a tentative roll of your hips, pulling softly. Sighing into his mouth when you feel the evidence of his growing arousal push against your clothed center. 

Argyle groans louder than before. Losing himself in your touch and the warmth coming from your aching cunt.

His hands cup your ass, fingers digging into the fat of it as he guides your hips against his hardening dick.

There’s nothing but primal need coursing through your veins, and you lose yourself in it.

You pull away, already reaching for the hem of his shirt and pushing it up with a silent question in your eyes.

Is this okay?

He nods, helping you lift it.

The shirt gets tangled in his limbs as you try to lift it over his head, and you can’t help but chuckle at his display.

“So graceful,” you tease, lifting it over and off. 

His hair is in disarray, strands standing on end and tangled. He smiles at you as you rub your palms up his torso, electricity shooting from the skin of his abdomen into your hands.

You don’t hide how you admire him, tracing his familiar frame with new eyes. A gaze that can openly appreciate the softness of his abdomen and the hair lining his chest. His skin dotted with tiny freckles.

“Shut up,” he tries to admonish, voice filled with affection. His hands grip either side of your hips as you lean closer. Looking for a hint of doubt.

Was it a one-time kiss? 

A lapse in judgment?

The way his fingers grip your hips as your lips ghost over his says otherwise. 

You gently swipe the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip, teasing. Taking your time. A soft nip of your teeth and a slight tug until it’s too much. 

He raises his hand, holding your face close, and his mouth is on yours again. Kiss less hesitant than the first, more confident with every push and pull. You get lost in it. Hands pressed against his bare skin as your hips roll of their own accord. Seeking friction and finding his hardened arousal once again. He moans into your mouth, a delicious sound that makes your core ache with need. You test the waters, grinding against him with a little more purpose. Sliding up the length of his clothed erection, humming as it catches your bundle of nerves just right. But you need more, and you pull away. Lust-filled eyes taking him in.

“Do you have a condom?” 

Argyle’s eyes widen, and he stills, his thoughts trying to catch up with your question but his silence feels like uncertainty.

“I-if you want to, I mean,” you say weakly, and he’s already nodding.

“I want to,” he says with conviction, already pushing you off his lap and reaching into one of the drawers of the coffee table.

“Oh my god, you keep condoms in your living room?” You tease him to conceal the way your stomach flips, how your nerves are starting to creep in.

“You don’t?” 

Your mouth opens to respond, words cut off when he fishes a Trojan out and looks at you with his cinnamon eyes. Cheeks blushed and lips bruised—the sight of him making your stomach do somersaults.

Tiny sparks of electricity bubble in the air as the tension grows, and you grab the condom from him. One hand grips the foil, and the other traces a line down his abdomen, holding his gaze as they inch lower until they stop at the tops of his pants. 

You push an eyebrow up in a question, already knowing the answer. A satisfied smile playing on your lips as he shifts to help take the fabric off. 

Anticipation stirs in your stomach, your mouth watering to see what he looks like after feeling him through his pants, and you can’t help the small moan that escapes when his cock jumps free. 

He’s bigger, thicker, than you’d imagined on those nights when you were knuckle deep, one hand on your tit and his name on your lips.

His tip shines with precum, the sight making your mouth water and you lean closer. Argyle watches you with hooded eyes, one hand gripping the couch and the other creating a path down your back until he’s gripping your ass.

You stick out your tongue, tracing over the angry vein lining the underside of his shaft. Taking your time as you inch up and to his tip. Tongue swirling along the mushroom head and collecting the pearly liquid, savoring the taste of his tangy arousal as it sticks to your tongue. 

A satisfied hum catches in your throat as you wrap your lips around his head, inching down his length and bobbing back off. Building up his need, enjoying the way his hips buck and chase your mouth. You slap his cock against your tongue, allowing saliva to collect and dribble down until his hardened arousal is coated. Drool dripping into his balls. You look up, a satisfied smirk slotting into place when you see the look in his eyes. How his gaze is darkened with need. Slowly, you begin to stroke him, starting up and going down. Watching him as you wrap your lips back around his tip and gently suck, tongue swirling as you do.

His head falls back with a loud groan, no longer able to conceal his mounting pleasure. You inch him further into your mouth until he sits in the back of your throat. 

Your movements are slow and deliberate. Lifting your head up and down with your hand following. With each bob of your head, you increase your pace. Enjoying how his hand grips your hair, holding you to him but not pushing you down. Watching with eager eyes as you gag around his cock, lines of saliva coating your knuckles with every dip of your head.

He releases the grip on your ass, and you all but whine until you feel the tips of his fingers push under the boxers you wear. Your movements still, attention focused on the way his fingers trace up the cheek of your ass and parts your center.

You moan around his cock, cunt clenching at the thought of him stretching you with one of his digits. 

Argyle swipes his middle finger along your folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, collecting your nectar.

His finger presses against your sensitive nub, a soft swirl that has you keening. Hips pushing against his hand and chasing the slowly mounting pressure. 

You start sucking him more sloppily, gagging as you take him deeper. Ass pressing into his hand in a silent plea. His finger traces back up, nudging your entrance.

Argyle sucks in a breath as your pussy pulls him in, walls wrapping around his digit.

“Holy fu-” he sighs as you moan around his cock, stilling for a moment. Attention focused as his finger slides in and out of you, teasing you as you teased him. 

You wiggle your hips, needing more, and he obliges. Adding another finger, the sweet stretch makes you groan. The pace of his fingers grows until the sound of your squelching pussy fills the room. 

Your mouth matches the pace he sets, sucking his dick with a new intensity as he curls his fingers and fucks them into you. 

“Oh my god,” you mewl, mouth still wrapped around his dick.

He pulls them from you suddenly, pulling you up from his cock before you can whine from the loss and onto his lap. His mouth is on yours in a fierce kiss, hands pushing your shirt up and pulling apart to take it off. 

Argyle pauses, breaths coming in quick succession as he stares at you. Ogling the curve of your breasts. He glances up, holding your gaze as he reaches a hand out to trace over them. Enjoying the way you shiver under his touch, nipples pebbling in response to his warm hands as they cup your heavy flesh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises, looking back down and pressing a kiss to your sternum, “like a fucking angel.” 

The compliment makes heat spread to your cheeks, and you curl his hair around your finger.

“You’re pretty cute,” you shrug, in an effort to be nonchalant. Teasing him as you always had, but even to your ears, the words sound different. Loaded with the affection you’d always had for him and could no longer hide.

He smiles up at you, a wide and goofy grin that takes up his whole face. The kind you only saw when he was really happy. 

“Pretty cute, huh?” He questions from between your breasts. He reaches up and teases your nipple between his fingers, tugging gently and watching the way your eyebrows marry in the middle. 

You nod, using his chest to hold your weight up above his cock, and you curse that you are still wearing bottoms.

As though he can hear your mind, he traces his hands down your back and to the elastic of your boxers. He inches them off of you, and you maneuver them off until you’re bare in front of him. 

There’s a charged silence between you as the seconds tick by. The weight of your need almost suffocating, and you reach out a nervous hand for the condom. Argyle grabs it from you and tears it open with his teeth, pulling the rubber from the foil to quickly roll it onto his length.

“Coolio,” he chuckles, but it sounds strangled, and grabs your waist with nervous hands. 

You rest one hand on his shoulder and reach the other between your bodies, lining his length up with your entrance. 

His grip on your waist tightens as you begin to sink onto him, a loud moan escaping your lips as you begin taking him inch by inch. Argyle’s thick cock stretches you, a delicious burn that makes your teeth sink into your bottom as he bottoms out inside you. 

“Feel so fucking good,” he groans, leaning you back so he can really look at you. His brown eyes trace your face and down your frame before stopping where the two of you are connected. You can feel his dick bounce inside of you at the sight and gasp. 

You raise your hips, lifting off of him and back down in slow motions as you continue to adjust to his size. His hands remain on your hips, guiding you up and down. Only picking up pace once he realizes you’re ready. 

Your hips swirl as you sink back down, enjoying how his face contorts in pleasure and the moan that vibrates in his chest. You continue to ride him, leaning into his chest as you bounce up and down his shaft. The lewd sound of your ass slapping against his thighs spurring your movements. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages, fingertips squeezing your ass. “Ride ‘em, cowboy,” he jokes, and you swat his chest playfully with a roll of your eyes.

“Shut up,” you gasp between heavy breaths, a smile on your lips.

Argyle lifts his hips to meet yours and grips your ass tight as his cock drills into you at a brutal pace. He watches the way your tits bounce, how you throw your head back and moan.

His name is on your lips like a mantra as pleasure courses through your body. You reach a hand down to your clit, rubbing circles against the bud that has you bucking forward as you chase your release. 

Before you have time to process, he has you on your back and legs spread wide. Cock still plunged deep into your pussy. His lips are on yours, hungry and needy as he thrusts into you. His pelvic bone jutting just right against your clit with every thrust. 

He groans into your mouth, hips stuttering but not slowing as he continues to fuck into you. Reveling in the way your pebbled breasts feel bouncing against his chest.

“Argyle,” you moan, nails digging into his back. 

“Are you close, beautiful?” he gasps, his hair falling around you like a curtain.

The pressure in your center builds, toes curling as you get closer and closer to the edge. He pushes away, rolling his hips into you and reaching between your bodies. Argyle rubs a thumb against your clit, mean circles that make your back arch and eyes slam shut as the pleasure begins to course through you.

It’s like a tidal wave, pleasure dragging you down until nothing else exists except the pulsing in your center. His pace doesn’t slow, hips pushing into yours. Thumb still circling your bundle of nerves until your legs begin to shake. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, pulling him back against you. The weight of his body on yours adding to your pleasure.

Argyle groans, and you feel his body still. Bucking into you once more as the orgasm washes over him. 

Your name is on his tongue in soft whispers, and you trace the goosebumps sprouting along his arms.

Seconds pass, the only sound of your heavy breaths as each of you tries to come down to earth.

“What was that?” you laugh, a soft rumble he feels with his chest pressed against yours. He chuckles along with you, face pushed into the crook of your neck. Warm breath fanning your sweat-slick skin.

“You, like, mauled me,” he teases, and you nudge his arm—no strength to argue.

He kisses your shoulder, your collarbone, and up to your lips. He plants a few against your mouth before lifting off you. Argyle looks down, watching as he pulls his length from your center. A sharp hiss that matches yours escapes his lips at the loss of you wrapped around him. He leans back down and kisses your stomach before pushing off you entirely.

He reaches for your shirt, motioning with his hands for you to lift your arms so he can push it over your head. You smooth your hair out and grab his shirt to repeat the action, each of you taking time to dress each other. A kiss shared between each layer of clothes that is put back on until you both sit fully clothed.

Cold pizzas on the comfy table, a candle burned down to the wick, and an apartment that smells like pumpkin, and vanilla. The aroma of your sex. 

You run your hands over your arms, unsure of what to say.

“Should we talk about it?” You question, half-hiding your face and afraid of his response.

He leans over and reaches for a blunt on his coffee table, lighting its end. Argyle inhales deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling and looking back at you.

“If you want to,” he shrugs because he already knows he’s sunk.

“You don’t?” Your words are tinged with surprise, and your eyebrows push together when he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to,” he offers you the blunt, but you shake your head. Mind still hazy from the feel of his lips and the push of his hips.

 “No?” you ask, puzzled.

Argyle pulls you close, your face nuzzling in his chest as he rubs an absent hand along your spine. 

“Took you long enough to see what a catch I am,” he jokes, “but I’ve always known about you.”

“Known what?” you grin, twisting your body to get a better look at him.

“That I’m cute, smart…funnier than you?” you poke his stomach, looking at him over your lashes. Eyes shining fondly.

He laughs, throwing his head back and blowing out a puff of smoke before looking back at you.

“I’ve always known how I feel about you.”

The response makes your next joke get lodged in your throat, and you swallow it down, grinning to yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and you don’t need him to say more. To say the three little words aloud for you to know what he means.

“But you’ll never be funnier than me.”

“Such a butthead,” you nudge him playfully and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. Already making it a habit.

[heartbeatbookclub]

I think it's sorta weird how the Protagonist (MC, Y/N, Stinky, whatever you wanna call him) is treated within the context of DDLC's meta.

That sentence came out weird. What I mean is that on terms of DDLC playing with the 4th wall (in other words, on terms of its actual existence as a visual novel in universe), the nature of the Protagonist's...well, entire existence, is up in the air.

Dan Salvato literally stated that he doesn't actually see him as a character in the same way as the girls. He's a "blank slate that says whatever is convenient." In a different statement, he's described as the "nameless, faceless self-insert character that you find so commonly in romance games", which I think is a good way of putting it. It's a good way of justifying why he kinda...sucks, because he's meant to be a typical VN protagonist. He's shallow, and responds with little more than what makes sense in context, because he doesn't have much character on his own, which is what makes him pretty bad at dealing with delicate issues like with Sayori.

In DDLC+ (spoilers, I guess?), it's a little bit vague about it, but in one of the mails, it states that Monika has literally "manufactured" a new character to "force interaction between her and the user". This character is heavily implied to be the Protagonist of the main DDLC visual novel that we know, and he is, as stated, noticeably absent from the Side Stories, because Monika didn't actively create him to be there.

Except...he isn't.

He doesn't physically appear, but in Trust, though he's obviously not mentioned by name, it's implied that he does exist, because when asked to act like a "normal person" responding to the Literature Club, she imitates a friend of hers who says "Literature is stuuupid. I'm joining the Anime Club."

...Remind you of a certain someone?

I feel like I'm overexplaining this, but my point is, it suggests that the Protagonist as a character isn't just something Monika invented out of thin air, or at least he's heavily implied not to be.

I think there's a larger conversation on the vague way the game itself treats the world outside of what is defined within the limited scope of Doki Doki Literature Club. Fans have filled gaps of different characters and events, but it's important to acknowledge that they're gaps filled by fanon, not canon. I think those gaps are left very intentionally empty, mostly to play into the conceit of the world, being that literally nothing actually exists outside of its boundaries, because it's a visual novel. It's a limited, constricted reality, where things are implied to exist outside it, but they actually don't.

In other words, Monika did apparently generate all that makes up the Protagonist as a character and vehicle for the player in the main game, based off the limited concept implied by their interaction in the Side Story. Or, rather, probably by something else, since the side stories are inherently a "Control Simulation" where Monika doesn't have any sense of meta awareness. It's a prequel set before the main story, but...well, if you really think about it, it's implied to tie into the main story, but they don't directly link up, do they? If it's not explicitly shown on screen in the main line Doki Doki Literature Club, did it even happen?

Either way, the Protagonist is a character independent of Monika's creation, he's just given absolutely nothing, and technically doesn't even exist outside of what's implied of him. Technically, the character Monika creates as a vehicle for the Player has no real relation to him, outside of being Sayori's friend and wanting to join the Anime Club. Or, depending on your view, he does! Since he's the literal manifestation of that character concept where it didn't exist previously, it's fair to say that he is that character given life!

I don't know, I think it's just kinda fascinating in context. I don't really like a lot of the extra lore surrounding the whole thing in +, but there are plenty of interesting things like this which have been given just enough flavor to be interesting.

Obviously I don't think this means the Protagonist is a complete non-character and any & all fan interpretations of him should be defenestrated (quite the opposite actually, reality can be whatever you want, I have a few concepts with him floating around my head which I find fun to play with), but I think this sort of thing is probably important to keep in mind on terms of actual investigations of canon.

[sharmapress]

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[vodika-vibes]

Another request. Physical Romantic gestures that make me weak prompt. Wait for it… with Captain Howzer. He’s super sexy too.

kissing you against a wall/door, legs intertwined around their waist.

Only if you find time to write.

Thank you. 😊

Take a Break

Summary: You're working late, and Howzer has a suggestion that might help you relax.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x Reader

Word Count: 1184

Warnings: Uh...spicy? Not smut but only just not smut. A side effect of the prompt, I think.

A/N: Hm...I'm not sure I'm happy with this one, but I think it's about as done as it's going to be. Honestly, I got distracted while writing this, cause my cat is ripping her fur out.

Divider by Saradika

You stare at your datapad blankly. More specifically at the cursor that’s blinking, tauntingly, at the top of the blank document. 

Join the GAR, your family said. Fight for the Republic, they prodded. It’ll give you something to do, they cajoled.

You really, really need to learn how to say no.

Because if you had said no, you wouldn’t be here, in some backwater base on Ryloth, hours away from the nearest city, staring at a blank document, trying to come up with a professional way to say that the situation’s fucked.

Hell, you’re not even sure you work for the GAR anymore. You’re pretty sure you’re not an employee of the Imperial Army.

You rest your elbows on your desk, and your hands slide into your hair.

“Think. Think. Think.” You mutter under your breath, “You’ve written reports before. You know how to be professional.”

You drop your hands to the keyboard, and nothing comes to mind.

How do you write a report listing the loss of half of your base's munitions because the manufacturer decided to skimp on the weather protection, and they were exposed to extreme weather before anyone knew there was a problem?

There’s a knock on your office door, and you look up as it opens and Captain Howzer steps into your office, a mug of caf in one of his hands, “Captain,” You greet with a tired smile, “You’re working late.”

“So are you,” He replies as he sets the mug in front of you, “You still working on that report for the higher ups?” Howzer sits in one of the chairs across from you, and stretches his legs out.

“I’ve written a grand total of zero words,” You reply with a sigh, “I have all of the information to pass on, but-” You shake your head with a sigh.

Howzer frowns, “Are you okay?”

You sigh and bury your hands in your hair again, “I never wanted to join the GAR, Howzer, I was pressured into it. And now I can leave even less than I could before.”

“It’s not all bad, mesh’la.” Howzer offers quietly.

“How? The Jedi are dead. And the Imperial Army is committing genocide across the galaxy-” You stop and your lips press together in a thin line, “You didn’t hear that.”

Howzer folds his arms, “Didn’t hear what?”

You smile at him, “Good man.” To pick up the mug he brought you and take a sip of the warm caf. It’s not good, but it’s caf, so you’ll take it. “Thank you for the caf. Maybe it’ll wake up my brain enough to let me write this report.”

“Or…maybe you need to take a break.” Howzer offers.

“And do what?”

“Well, there is a club not far from here,” Howzer points out.

“I’m not really dressed for a club, Howzer,” You counter as you motion to the regulation pants and blouse you’re wearing.

“You look fine,” He gets to his feet and offers you his hand, “Come on. You need a break.”

“Howzer, I’m not going to a club just to watch other people dance.”

“Of course not, you’ll dance with me.”

You pause and look up at him, there’s a glimmer of hope on his face, and mischief glitters in his eyes, and you sigh and take his hand, “Fine. But only for a little bit. I need to finish this.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He agrees, unconvincingly.

You don’t even have time to grab your jacket before he’s propelling you out of your office, and then the office building. 

The club is Nameless, which is a rather depressing name all things considered, but the music is loud, the lights are dim, and it’s packed with people. 

And Howzer, immediately, drags you onto the dance floor and pulls you flush against him. One of his hands settles heavily on your lower back, while the other cups the back of your neck.

“You seem rather eager to dance with me, captain.” You breathe into his ear.

“Guilty as charged,” He replies against your ear and then his lips attach to a spot just below your ear and you release a quiet moan, which makes him grin against your skin, “You seem just as eager,” He teases.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to dance with,” You admit, as you roll your hips against his.

There’s a glimmer of something on his face as his hand slides from your back to your hip, and he holds you tight enough that you’ll have bruises, “Good,” He purrs out.

You shoot him a surprised look, but he doesn’t clarify. Instead he pulls you closer and angles your head so he’s able to catch your lips with his own. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, absently tracing random shapes against the back of his neck.

He groans into the kiss, and pulls away, which pulls a needy little whine from your lips. And he laughs under his breath. His gaze is heated, and you watch as he comes to a decision. 

Howzer walks you through the crowd, and into a hallway, where he presses you against the wall, and crashes his lips against yours again. It’s not private, not at all, people are passing behind him, though you don’t care. 

And judging by the way his hands are burning a path down your body, neither does he.

You let out a breathless moan as his lips attach to a spot on your neck and he bites down. One of your hands slides up into his hair and you grab a fistful, trying to ground yourself, but all that accomplishes is pulling a broken moan from his throat.

He pulls away from you, his gaze heavy. He lightly pulls your hand out of his hair, and he guides you further down the hall. He pushes the door to the storage room open, makes sure that it’s empty with a glance, and then he drags you into the dark room.

Howzer locks the door with a touch of the door panel, and then he has you pressed against the door. He kisses you deeply, and helps you wrap your legs around his hips, and he presses himself firmly against you.

A moan falls from you and he laughs breathlessly, as he breaks the kiss and brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, “Are you feeling relaxed yet?” He breathes out.

“I feel like there’s a million bees under my skin, Howzer,” You reply, breathlessly.

He laughs, “Well, I suppose I better help you with that.” He kisses you slowly, sweetly, “And then I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Aren’t you kind of going backwards?” You ask.

“Makes it interesting.” Howzer replies as his lips move to your neck again, “Unless you have a problem with it?”

“I don’t,” You reply quickly, another moan falling from you as he presses hot kisses over the mark on your neck.

“Good.” Howzer grins against your neck, “I have plans for tonight, mesh’la. Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you.”

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Awesome

Technicron Manufacturing began production of the Awesome in 2665 to replace the STR-2C Striker. What they produced not only replaced the aging Striker, it became one of the most feared BattleMechs of all time. The Awesome is built around its impressive all-energy based arsenal and heavy armor making it a highly independent and powerful assault 'Mech. Rugged and reliable, the Awesome is traditionally used in a vanguard role when penetrating enemy defenses. The Awesome's massive firepower also lends it to defensive actions, acting as a mobile turret when necessary. Because of its reliance on PPCs, the Awesome is able to act independently for extended periods of time. This trait is also useful in siege situations where the 'Mech can keep up a constant barrage, allowing it to win battles of attrition through bleeding an enemy dry. The only downsides to the Awesome is its low maneuverability and lack of rear-facing weaponry, making it vulnerable to being outflanked and surrounded by lighter 'Mechs, although good intelligence and a well-deployed screening force can mitigate this issue.

Originally built for the Star League out of Technicron's factory on Savannah, the Awesome soon became a common sight in the armies of all the House Lords. At the start of the Succession Wars, the Free Worlds League was able to maintain control of the Savannah factory, making them the only Successor State capable of building new Awesomes and thus the largest user of them. Lycomb-Davion IntroTech had been producing the Awesome and other designs from their main factory on Demeter, but the Capellan Confederation struck at and destroyed the manufacturing lines on Demeter early in the First Succession War.

Eventually Technicron partnered up with Irian BattleMechs Unlimited to open a new line on Irian, although neither one was willing to tamper with the venerable design. The discovery of the Helm Memory Core and the onset of the Clan Invasion finally spurred them on to build a new variant, the AWS-9M, which took advantage of recovered lostech to address some of the issues of the original. The AWS-9Q was built in time to take part in Operation GUERRERO, while the advanced AWS-10KM built at the time of the Jihad was the result of a joint venture between Irian Technologies and Alshain Weaponry.

The Awesome has a limited, but effective, armament consisting of three Kreuss PPCs, one mounted in its right arm and two split between the left and right torsos. These give it an immense amount of damage potential at ranges exceeding five hundred meters, enough to destroy some 'Mechs with a single salvo, although at point-blank range they are less useful. For close combat the 'Mech mounts in its head a Diverse Optics Type 10 Small Laser while its left arm ends in a battlefist sufficient for hand-to-hand fighting.

To handle the tremendous heat load of its weaponry the Awesome carries twenty-eight heat sinks, although even these can be overwhelmed; most pilots only fire two of their PPCs per salvo to reduce the strain. With fifteen tons of armor plating the Awesome is one of the most heavily-armored assault 'Mechs, making it better protected than even the BattleMaster, including some of the thickest rear armor of any 'Mech. Although an enemy coming at it from the rear or left flank has a fighting chance, most soldiers agree that "the only defense against an Awesome is another Awesome."

[compacflt]

Oh to be Maverick, reading AD magazine and has a husband that will write you a blank check to buy any decor you want. Or collects expensive watches. And has the same taste. I don't know if anyone have asked this, what is your hc about their car preference? I hc that Mav likes big car because he's relatively short. And Ice likes luxury car. What do you think?

oh my god i have had this headcanon for so long thank god someone’s asking about it.

Ice will ONLY drive American-manufactured cars. like even when he travels somewhere and rents one. he will raise a stink about it.

It is a significant point of contention in their relationship & marriage that maverick is only interested in Japanese-manufactured motorcycles. Like they have had, and will continue to have, shouting matches over “why can’t you be a patriot and buy American motorcycles like harleys??!? What is with all the kawasaki and yamaha crap???” and “ice im telling you they just run better!!! the japanese just make better bikes!!!” tongue-in-cheek threats of divorce etc.

i definitely think of ice as less a luxury car and more a classic muscle car guy. back when muscle cars still were delicate and beautiful instead of hard and sharp, if that makes sense. there is a Venn diagram of luxury and muscle cars and he definitely has dabbled in the middle (see my fic’s deepthroating of the 2005 ford GT). But he won’t cross the line. (Won’t be caught dead driving a Porsche or mercedes for instance)

in the final final draft of my fic (ie the draft that will get posted before i call it quits on my top gun phase) the Dream Car is getting changed to a ‘68 Plymouth HEMI roadrunner. camaro is too mainstream i will admit. but see above for my “car preferences” hc.

[seedsofagony]

Overwhelm (KnY ♡ Hotaru)

Cherrytober Day 14: Hotel // Aftercare

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Haganezuka Hotaru

Word Count: 579

Summary: modern au, x reader (gn), post-sex, allusions to rough sex, slight angst, top/sub drop, aftercare, cuddling

Notes: PSA that top/sub drop can be a normal part of any sexual experience ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

You lie on your side, covered in a sheen of sweat, trying to catch your breath. Purple half-moon bite marks and hickeys cover your neck and shoulders. The muscles in your lower back are already starting to protest—never mind the absolute pounding between your legs. You're going to be sore later, but, as you come down, lying together with your lover, all you feel is tremendous warmth.

And yet, something isn't right.

"You okay…?" you ask.

Hotaru nods, but says nothing. You cup his cheek in your hand—he's a beautiful mess, hair wild, lips swollen from kissing, but there's a deep furrow in his brow.

"That was pretty intense, wasn't it?"

He looks at you, the furrow creasing into concern. "Does it hurt…?"

You grin. "A little–" his face falls before you can finish your thought, "but, I'm fine! It was great." You stroke his cheek with your thumb. "You were great."

"Great" doesn't even begin to describe the experience you just had—the hunger in Hotaru's bright eyes, the primal urgency, the growling. You rub your thighs together just thinking about it, but round two is definitely out of the question. At least for now.

"We could tone it down if you want?"

"No! I mean, I just…" Hotaru groans and rolls onto his back, pressing his palms against his eyes. "I don't know what I meant."

You shift onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. "We don't have to do anything you don't like."

"I liked it," he says, voice quiet. "I loved it. It's just that, sometimes," he sighs, "I feel so much…" Lowering his hands to his chest, he turns his head to you. "It's overwhelming."

You hum thoughtfully. After a moment, you sit up and reach for the remote on the nightstand.

"Come here," you say, patting your knee.

Frowning, Hotaru scooches up against you and lays his head on your shoulder. You turn on the TV and flip through the menu, putting on a rerun of the series Hotaru loves to hate—a reality show where the contestants compete to make the best sword.

As the TV flickers, you only half-pay attention to the manufactured drama. Instead, you glance down at Hotaru from time to time, checking his expression. For awhile, his brow remains creased, his mouth a thin line, but eventually, his face begins to soften. He makes a comment here and there, muttering under his breath when he thinks a contestant has done something particularly stupid, clucking his tongue when an inferior sword cracks during quenching.

As the stream rolls over to the next episode, Hotaru sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly—a far cry from the earlier ravages of his mouth. You savor it, sweet as honey, leaning your forehead against his when you part.

"Feeling better?" you ask.

"Yes," he says, kissing you again before snuggling back into your side. "Thank you…"

"Of course." And you mean that—of course you would do this for him. This isn't an exchange, an hour or so of cuddling for the most back-breaking sex of your life. It's a continuation of the expression, one strong emotion fading into the next until you're yourselves again.

You stare at the TV without really watching, idly stroking Hotaru's hair while he eviscerates the contestants. He really had been great, the way he handled you so easily, took you in the truest sense of the word—but this?

This is bliss.