#Simply Pop Contour

[bitterreid]

🐛 Choose the latter, choose the latter 🐛

Summary: Your dad has a fondness for vintage cars. You have a fondness for his mechanic. A collection of times you run into Hawkins' resident freak-turned-car-mechanic and can't seem to stay away from him. --- (This is part one of my mechanic!Eddie series My Clementine, but can be read as a stand-alone!)

Wordcount: 4.1k (fluff/smut)

Contains: fem!reader x mechanic!Eddie, teasingggg, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, eddie being down bad, incorrect car facts probably, woops 

A/N: This came to me in a vision, def let me know if anyone wants a part two because I loved making this and I have more ideas for this pairing, title is from Finn's song which is a BANGER, also, am I developing a mechanic kink? Is that a thing? Does anyone else share this? It's starting to become a problem lol

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"You sure you need me today, Wayne? It's like, 700 degrees out." Eddie simply did not care enough to conceal the whining tone in his voice, already feeling the way his clothes stuck to his skin. 

"Stop complaining and be grateful you got a job at all, kid." Wayne tossed over his shoulder, used to Eddie's constant chatter by now.

"No, of course, yeah, yeah, but you see this? The soles of my shoes are melting into the pavement," Eddie clumsily put his foot in the air - soles completely intact - to show Wayne, who did not turn around. 

Slightly begrudged, Eddie continued his sulking pace. Not that he really minded his job, after all.

"Remember," Wayne said as he pushed the big doors to the garage open, "I need you to be on your best behaviour today. No antics, you get me?"

"Oh I got you," Eddie quips absentmindedly, too taken aback by the legion of vintage cars that awaited them. "These are all property of your supposed childhood friend? What is he? A mob boss or something?"

Wayne rolled his eyes, "Just a businessman, Eddie, and I mean it, no standing around either, he's been a customer for almost twenty years now, and I'd like to keep it that way. I even held his daughter when she was a baby, this is not someone you want to disappoint."

But Eddie was lost in the shiny contours of the expensive cars, trying to calculate just how much cash was gathered in this room alone. 

"Oh and make sure to keep an eye out for the neighbourhood kids, they like to sneak looks inside, so don't let them in, understand?" Wayne got no answer, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, yeah, let no one in, I'm not a toddler you leave home alone for the first time I'll be fine." He waved Wayne away, perusing through the rows of cars.

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Half way through the day, the first kids popped up at the large doors. At first Eddie just heard giggles, then whispers, then he saw three little heads poke through the doorway, eyes twinkling in the bright sunlight.

"No, nu-uh, out, you three!" He felt like an old man yelling for children to get off his lawn. But it worked, the kids scurried away again, giggling and screeching in the process.

Eddie wiped the sweat off his brow, again, as he had done every ten minutes since he had gotten here. He was eternally grateful for the faint breeze every once in a while, but the white tank top he was donning was - besides smeared with oil - now also almost drenched. Great. Just as he was about to bend back over the 1957 Porsche, he heard more footsteps approaching. Wayne had left to go get them some lunch in the supermarket down the street, leaving Eddie to deal with the greedy little onlookers all on his own, but he was getting tired of scaring them away.

"Just go already! How many more times do I-" his tirade halted when he turned around to find you. Huh, he thought, okay, not the normal crowd, but he wasn't one to judge. "Um, sorry, you can't be in here."

You cocked your head at him, cherry lollypop between your lips, your summer dress faintly blowing in the wind. "I can't?"

Eddie was somewhat taken aback. "This is private property" was his lame response, which even sounded unconvincing to his own ears.

"Is that so?" you replied idly, stalking forward and running your fingers over the hood of one of the cars. 

Eddie surged forward, "Hey! You can't just-" he grabbed your wrist, not hard, just to keep you away from the precious cars left in his care. All you did was smile up at him, completely unbothered.

Eddie was stunned, like all the files in his mind had been corrupted, and in pure desperation threw it back onto the old guy lecturing kids, "Listen here, missy," (missy, really, Eddie?) "You can't just barge in here, okay? I'm gonna need to ask you to leave, respectfully."

The cheshire cat grin on your face only grew at his words, "Ooh, respectfully? Well, if you ask so nicely…" Your tone was teasing, all drawn-out and suspiciously sweet. "I guess I'll see you around, then…"

"Eddie," he supplied, partly against his better judgement.

"See ya, Eddie." And then you were gone.

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"Wayne, I already know what you're going to say, but can I test-drive one of these babies?" Eddie harboured no hopes that the answer would be yes - ever - but daydreaming never hurt anyone.

All he got back from his uncle was a deadpan stare and a raised brow.

"Right, right." 

I was the next day, still doing check-ups on the cars, whose drivers' seats seemed to glint alluringly at him every time he popped their hoods. 

"Did I tell you about that girl who came by yesterday? That was weird,"

"Eddie. You've told me several times now, I think I get it." Wayne was changing the oil on one of the Ferrari's, wondering for the umpteenth time why, again, he had hired his own nephew?  

"Oh, right. Right." Eddie couldn't seem to get you out of his head, the way you had been so unfazed, your eyes trained on him the whole time, there was an undeniable pull towards the idea of you. See you around, you had said. Faintly, somewhere, Eddie hoped it was true. 

And it was.

Around noon, once again, you appeared in the door opening, this time with a different coloured lollypop and a dog circling your feet. Eddie took in the sight of you, radiant in the contrasting light of the doorway, but it wasn't him you were looking at.

"Mister Munson!" you exclaimed, a bright, honest smile taking over your features.

"Sweetheart, hey, how you been?" Wayne wiped his hands on a rag and came over to you, smiling almost affectionately.

"Not too bad, just making sure I don't melt, you know, in this weather. How about you? I see you brought help this year?"

"I'm good, honey, thanks, yeah, this is my nephew, Eddie." he gestured vaguely in Eddie's direction.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie," your smile was coy and well-practiced, with a glint of mischief behind your eyes that Wayne didn't seem to notice at all when he tumbled into a slew of questions, keeping you entertained. 

 "Tell me, how's your father, how are you finding college? Are you home all summer?" 

Eddie was gobsmacked. Could it be that he had commanded you to leave your own garage? Your own house? Oh how he wished the floor would grow teeth and swallow him right about now. Instead, he busied himself with polishing the same mirror roughly eleven times over, not so subtly eavesdropping on your conversation. 

"So, I'll be heading off now, gotta take this one out for a walk," you scratched the dog behind her ear, "See you later, Mr. Munson," you looked over your shoulder, smiling sweetly "and bye, Eddie." All Eddie could muster was an impressively fake smile until you rounded the corner.

"Wayne!!" Eddie exclaimed, throwing his dirty rag at his uncle, "what the fuck??"

"Hey!" Wayne scrambled to swat the rag away, "what now-"

"That's the girl! The girl that came by! The girl that I sent away!"

Wayne could hardly suppress his smile, "You sent the daughter of the owner away? Nice, Ed, real classy."

Eddie raised his hands in desperation, "You said his daughter was a baby!"

"Boy, I said I held her as a baby! Years ago! That's what you get for never listening to me," Wayne snickered.

Eddie groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I called her missy."

At that, Wayne couldn't help but properly burst out laughing, "Missy?! Well, you have only yourself for that one, don't ya?" This earned him another rag to his face.

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That afternoon, heat almost unbearable in the garage, Wayne had a plan.

"Eddie, fetch some water, will ya?"

"Water, from where? The store?"

"Nope," Wayne answered, barely looking up from the screw he was fastening, "the kitchen."

Eddie stood up straight, "The kitchen? You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"Why do you want to punish me, Wayne?"

"Boy, it's just some water, go fetch."

"I'm not a dog," Eddie mumbled as he wiped his hands and attempted to fix his untamed curls in the reflection of one of the windows. He stalked out of the garage and rounded the corner into your backyard. They had been given permission to help themselves to anything they needed, but normally Eddie made Wayde grab him stuff. Not that he was scared of you, or anything.

He climbed up the steps to your backdoor, looking down at his oil-smeared outfit that clashed starkly with the light blue kitchen tiles coming into view. If he was lucky, he would be in and out before anyone noticed him. He just had to find the cabinet you kept your cups in and get some water and he'd be a free man. Only, which cabinet?

This kitchen was about seven times as big as his own, with about seven times as many cabinets, which made the guess, somewhat… impossible. So he started opening doors, and shutting them as silently as possible after the so manieth cupboard of only decorative plates. (How many decorative plates could one family need?)

He was almost getting desperate, nearing the end of the row of doors, thinking maybe fancy people didn't use cups? Until he finally found them, shiny and sparkling. He grabbed the first one he saw, finally turning around towards the tap and-

"Jesus- oh my god, what the-" You were smiling at him from the other side of the room, languidly draped against the doorframe.

You cleared your throat, putting on fake wide eyes, "Um, sorry, you can't be in here."

"I, um, I just needed to get some wat-" he barely managed.

"This is private property" you mocked, a smile seeping through your tone. The twinkle in your eyes was what finally betrayed your agenda to him.

"Ahh, ha ha, real clever, I get it." he turned the glass over in his hands, trying to will his nerves away.

"Took you long enough," you chirped, pushing yourself off the doorpost and strolling towards him. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah, um, no, it's, it's for Wayne," could he sound any more like a middle schooler that got caught red-handed?

"Aah, then you'd want this," you said, pulling open the doors of your giant refrigerator and producing a bottle of sparkling water, "he likes this one the best." 

Eddie had never seen the drink before, probably too fancy to keep around in the trailer, "Thanks," he mumbled, taking the blue bottle from you.

"No worries," you started backing away into the doorframe you had come from again, while Eddie grew faintly more aware of a feeling blooming in his chest that somehow wanted you to stay. "Just, yell if you need anything else, alright?" 

And then you were gone. Again. The smile on your lips lingered in Eddie's mind for longer than he'd care to admit.

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The next day, Eddie was determined to strike up a real conversation with you. Preferably one where he didn't scold you like a mean teacher or came off extremely clueless, if possible. But the day rolled by, and no sign of you. He even volunteered to get more water in the kitchen, hoping to run into you, but to no avail.

He had all but lost hope, until he spotted you in the garden. You were sitting at the far end, reading a book at a picnic table underneath a wooden arch covered in flowers. You were a vision, in your short shorts and the soft sunlight on your face, you could have stepped into any of those mushy romance movies Eddie pretended not to like. 

"Hey, Wayne, you go ahead and leave without me, alright?" Eddie said, hoping to sound casual.

Wayne glanced up from packing his things, inquisitively at first, but then he spotted you. "Sure, kid. Just one word of advice-"

Eddie groaned in anticipation of the words to come.

"Don't call her missy, alright?" a grin taking over his face.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, I'll try for sure." Eddie rushed away from his uncle, checking his appearance one more time in one the windows of a particularly shiny Mustang. He looked like he just worked an entire day in unbearable heat, which he did, so at least that checked out, but it would have to do. He slowed his walk, tried his best for casual, and strolled up to you in your large, well-kept garden.

"Hey there," he said, alerting you of his presence, and slid onto the bench opposite you.

You looked up from your book, not startled at all, Eddie noted, and smiled at him, "Hi." 

Eddie smiled back, already scrambling for words, swallowing hard at the sight of you, framed inside a border of roses.

But conversation seemed to come easily to you. "So, which of the cars have you been dreaming of stealing the most?"

Eddie let out a surprised laugh at that.

"I bet it was the red Porsche, or the Black Corvette?" You raised your eyebrow, "or are you more of a convertible type, Eddie?" 

"Aah, you got me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Hmh, then I bet you'd like, the dark green one," you snapped your fingers, "the uh, um, what's it called?" 

"The 1955 Ford Thunderbird, with the 312 cubic inch Y-block V8 motor," Eddie blurted out, too enamoured with the car to curb his enthusiasm. 

"That's right," your smile widened, "See, I got you all figured out."

Oh, Eddie was in looooveee. And very much unable to play anything cool, ever, though he was willing to die trying. "And you? Any favourites you'd run away with?"

"Oh, I'm not really a car kinda girl, only really know what my dad tells me about them."

"Oh really? But I bet you have a favourite, right?" He was trying to throw all of his charm in the ring.

"Hmm," you pondered his question, "I guess I have a soft sport for the Porsche, the light blue one?" 

"The 911 T? Good choice, good choice, a lady with taste."

You laughed at that, "Yeah, you know how cars kind of have a face?"

"I, um, I can't say I do?" but he was intrigued by where this was going.

"Yeah you do, the headlights are the eyes, the bumper is the mouth, and that one just looks, kind? I don't know," your laugh was getting bashful now, almost shy, "Maybe I'm talking nonsense."

"No! No, I see it, sure, you're right, even, very friendly car. Real sweetheart." You swatted at his arm, only making his lopsided grin more fond. "No, I mean it, didn't even give me any trouble during its check-up."

"Isn't it exhausting, all these long days in this heat?" You asked.

"Eh," Eddie waved his fingers, "had better days, but it's alright, honest work, you know."

You nodded, "Seems like hard work… you must be tired." Your eyes were flicking over his body now, but your smile remained kind and compassionate.

"I mean, well, yeah, kinda…" Eddie was slowly getting flustered by your attention.

"Working with your hands all day, can't be easy…" you trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of your book, "You know, I admire that, the craft, I mean." You slowly stood up, abandoning your book and walking around the table.

Eddie swallowed hard, trying to stay cool and collected, as he couldn't tell where this was going for the life of him. 

You came to a halt behind Eddie, still musing aloud, "Not afraid to get your hands dirty, and, you have to be quite strong… right?" 

You trailed your fingertips over his exposed upper arm, just like how you had done to the car a few days ago, but this time, Eddie didn't stop you. Instead, he inhaled sharply, tracking your movements with his eyes. 

"Right, Eddie? I bet you're really strong, carrying all those things, lifting the tires…" You bent down, your face nearing his ear, to whisper, "I bet you work really hard, Eddie, and I think- " your lips grazed the shell of his ear and Eddie thought he might faint on the spot, "I think you deserve a reward for that."

Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at your words, his eyelids fluttering to stay open. Your hands were on his shoulders now, while your lips dragged over the hot skin of his neck. Sparks ignited all over his body upon the soft contact, rendering him speechless.

"Right, Eddie? Don't you think you deserve to be spoiled a little? For all your hard work?" You planted small kisses all over his neck, and when his head tipped back - involuntarily - you moved on to the column of his throat. Not satisfied with his lack of response, you purred his name again, "Eddie?", which poured oil on the flames igniting in his belly.

"Y- yeah, I do." His voice was hoarse, even to his own ears.

You smiled against his skin, satisfied with his reply, "That's right, so do you want me to take care of you, Eddie? Spoil you? Hmm?" Your voice was velvet to the touch, the words curling around him in an intoxicating spiral.

"Yeah, yeah, I- I do," his mumbling was interrupted by a low groan that left his throat as you planted hot, open mouthed kisses on his jaw. He was pretty sure he was in heaven.

"Turn around then," was all you said, and Eddie couldn't obey you any faster, swinging his legs over the bench to face you, no doubt red-cheeked and with dazed eyes. And you, you were a vision. So innocent looking, just standing there with your sweet smile and your gorgeous legs, looking at him, of all people. 

Then, you slowly, ever so slowly, got on your knees in front of him. And oh god. Eddie thought he might lose it, might wake up from this daydream, might get told this was all a cruel joke, but the way you held his eyes as you sank down, this was his ultimate wet dream come true right before his eyes. He swallowed, by lack of anything else to do, as 'casual' had gone out the window a long time ago. 

You looked so pretty sitting in between his spread legs, Eddie almost felt the need to stop you right there and ask to take a picture. But he didn't, because you were reaching your hands up to his belt now, carefully unbuckling it. The metal sounds of the clasps sounded out of place between the twittering birds in your garden, but Eddie couldn't care less, so entirely enveloped by your gentle stare and careful hands.

"May I, Eddie?" you asked, voice still as sweet as ever.

All he could do was nod, vigorously, and lift his hips to help you slide his jeans down his legs. He was hard. Of course he was, who could blame him? He had been living out his own personal wildest fantasies for the last ten minutes. 

His breath hitched once more when your lips got closer to his length, but instead you attacked his thighs, planting sweet, soft kisses on the pale skin there. You were driving him wild, insane, mad, deranged, you name it. All of it the work of your plush lips on his skin.

Suddenly, a clear thought made its way through the fog in his brain "W- what about your parents?" There was a clear wobble to his voice, but he was under strict instructions from Wayne not to screw this up. 

You laughed a little, maybe at his question, maybe at his disheleveld state, "Out of town, Eddie, don't worry." 

"Oh," he swallowed thickly, "right, yeah. Neighbours?" 

"What neighbours?" you giggled, as indeed, your house was located far away from the rest of the town.

"Right, right," he couldn't think straight with your lips so close to his aching dick that was straining his boxers by now. 

You smoothed your hands up and down his legs, "Relax, Eddie, lay back, let me take care of you, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah…" he tried to chill, but the mix of nerves, butterflies and arousal in his stomach was a hard one to swallow. All of his efforts, though, went completely out the window as soon as you palmed his dick through the fabric. A sinful, drawn out moan immediately escaped his lips upon the first experimental stroke you gave.

You giggled quietly, a matching heat catching on your cheeks as you leaned forwards and licked his leaking tip through his boxers. Another sound escaped him, and he was sure by now his mouth was hanging open, bewitched by the (un)holy sight before him.

"You like that, Eddie?" you purred, slowly working his dick over.

"Y- yeah, oh fuck, yeah."

"Good," you said as you finally hooked your fingers behind the waistband, pulling his boxers down. "Be as loud as you want, by the way, I think it's really hot."

The compliment, paired with the casual way you said it, made the burn on Eddie's cheeks even brighter, the blush now creeping down his chest as well. You looked absolutely angelic, and yet absolutely sinful, the way your beautiful face was framed between his thighs now, and your delicate hand wrapped around his dick. 

When you licked up his shaft for the first time, fire sparked right through his entire body, igniting something stronger, deeper, than he had ever felt before. Your tongue wrapped around his head next, while it glided between your soft, plush lips. Eddie was so gone, groaning in pleasure with every stroke. 

You worked up a steady rhythm, your mouth as warm and intoxicating as your touch. The way you looked up at him, all innocent and pretty, made Eddie's insides swoop, drawing a high-pitched whine from him which he didn't know he was capable of. 

His eyes wanted to roll back into his skull, but he fought to keep them open, not wanting to miss a single second. He carefully weaved his fingers through your hair, not so much steering you as just going along with your movements, craving more contact. "This okay?" he asked, voice raspy and deep.

You hummed around his dick, sending shivers of pleasure through Eddie's body. He was sure you'd be the death of him. 

Eddie was getting closer, though he tried to hold off from finishing for as long as possible, both to save his ego and to savour every last second of this moment. But your skilled movements and honestly just the mere sight of you kneeled between his legs alone made it extremely hard on him. 

His moans became breathier, and he knew that he was getting close. His heart was pounding in his chest, the muscles in his abdomen were flexing tight, and pleasure was clouding his brain to the point that the only thing that existed in the whole universe for him were you, and the way you looked, and felt around him.

"Fuck, fuck, sweetheart," he moaned the words rather than said them, "Oh, fuck, I'm so- so close." But you didn't stop. On the contrary, you kept going, even faster, sucking the head exactly the way he liked it. "Oh god, jesus, fuck," all kinds of profanities tumbled from his lips, feeling his high rapidly approaching. You looked up at him one final time, your big eyes locking onto his, and that's what did him in.

His orgasm crashed over him in burning, white- hot waves of pleasure, making him moan out your name over and over as he finished. His hands were still in your hair, feeling the way you carefully worked him through his high. When he opened his eyes again, he saw you wipe your mouth, a satisfied smile on your face.

Eddie was still beyond dishevelled, completely out of it, you name it. He watched you with wide eyes and pink cheeks as he caught his breath, still half in disbelief about what just happened. 

You licked your lips, still kneeling before him, "Was that good?" 

"Good? Good?" (Eddie's brain had stopped working like half an hour ago) "Sweetheart, 'good' would be the understatement of the century." He brushed your hair behind your ear, "That was, fuck, that was like, the best moment of my life." 

You laughed at that, finally standing up and dusting off your knees, "Ah, don't flatter me, Munson." Your smile was bright and warm, and Eddie found himself in deep, deep trouble. 

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I am but a humble fanfic writer and i beg for your feedback guys :))))))) xxxxxxxx + If anyone has requests, tell meeeee, and lmk if I should make this a series :))))

[applecaviar]

Giving the LADS men head part 3 🍭🍭🍭

Sylusxreader

TW: SMUT

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Sylus's fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of your shirt, a telltale sign of his barely restrained desire. He slips beneath the fabric, hands splaying across the small of your back before sliding upwards, mapping the curve of your spine. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, your skin pebbling under his reverent caress.

"So soft". So perfect. He marvels at the supple give of your flesh, committing every dip and swell to memory. His hands are greedy, almost worshipful as they learn the contours of your body anew. As if he's a blind man finally gifted sight, drinking in the vision of you.

"Lift your arms for me, kitten," he murmurs, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through you. It's a command cloaked in velvet, impossible to disobey. You comply without hesitation, raising your arms above your head. The action causes your shirt to ride up further, exposing the lacy band of your bra.

Sylus's gaze darkens, eyes flashing crimson in the low light of the bedroom. He drinks in the sight, lips curling into a smirk. "Beautiful," he breathes, before slowly, teasingly, drawing your shirt up and over your head.

He tosses it carelessly to the side. Sylus takes a moment to simply look at you, eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin. His stare is almost tangible, a physical caress that leaves you flushed and aching.

"Even more stunning than I remembered," he whispers, before leaning down to press a open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast. His lips linger, hot and hungry, before he pulls back with a soft nip to your nipple through the thin lace of your bra.

"Let's get rid of this, shall we?" Sylus reaches behind you, deft fingers finding the clasp of your bra with ease. He unhooks it with a single, smooth motion, baring you fully to his heated gaze.

Mine, his eyes seem to say, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like a feast. Mine. My everything.

Large hands skim up your ribcage, cupping the weight of your breasts. Sylus's thumbs brush over the sensitive peaks, rolling and teasing until he leans down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. He draws one straining nipple past his lips, suckling greedily as his hand kneads the soft globe of your breast. His tongue swirls and flicks, laving the sensitive bud until it pebbles almost painfully beneath his ministrations.

"I could spend hours worshipping these perfect tits," he murmurs, blowing cool air over your damp skin before capturing your other nipple between his teeth. He bites down just shy of pain, soothing the sting with his tongue before suckling greedily once more.

His hand treks lower, popping the button of your jeans with ease and tugging down the zipper. Sylus slips inside, fingers skimming over the front of your panties. He groans when he finds the fabric already damp with your arousal.

"Fuck. You're dripping," he growls, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. "All this for me? Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Sylus hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties, starting to tug them down your legs. "Lift your hips for me, sweetie. Let me see all of you." You lift your hips, allowing him to drag the fabric over your curves, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

His crimson eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, laid out naked and wanting before him. He drinks in every inch of your exposed skin, committing it to memory. His to claim. His to worship.

Rising from the bed, Sylus makes quick work of his own clothing, practically tearing off his shirt in his haste to be rid of it. Your gaze rakes over his chest, taking in the sculpted muscles and lean lines of his torso. A light dusting of hair trails down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

His hands go to his belt next, unbuckling it with deft motions. The leather slides from the loops of his pants before he drops it to the floor with a heavy thud. Next, he unzips his fly, pushing his pants and boxers down powerful legs in one smooth motion.

Sylus kicks them off to the side, leaving him fully nude before you. Your eyes widen as you take in the impressive length of his cock, already hard and straining towards his stomach.

A bead of moisture glistens at the tip, and your mouth waters at the sight. Sylus notices your stare, his lips curling into a sinful smirk. He takes a step closer to the bed, looming over you with a predatory grace that sets your heart racing.

"See something you like, kitten?" he purrs, one hand coming down to wrap around his impressive length. He strokes himself slowly, base to tip, before smearing the bead of precum around the swollen head. "It's all yours, sweetie. Every hard, aching inch."

As he stands before you, his impressive erection now mere inches from your face as you sit on the edge of the bed. He smirks down at you, eyes glinting with wicked intent as he takes in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Gods, he smells divine, you think, your mouth watering at the intoxicating aroma. Masculine. Potent. Irresistible.

His hand brushes a lock of hair back from your face almost tenderly. His fingers linger, tracing the delicate line of your jaw before tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his.

"Go on, kitten," he coaxes, his voice a low, seductive rumble that vibrates through you. "Get a good look. I want you to see what you do to me, how fucking crazy you make me."

He steps even closer, until the swollen head of his cock brushes against your parted lips. The contact makes you gasp, and Sylus groans at the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again to pin you with a heated stare.

"Fuck, your mouth...it's perfect," he rasps, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock over the soft swell of your bottom lip. "I bet it would feel even better wrapped around me."

Sylus inhales sharply as he feels the tentative brush of your tongue against the sensitive slit of his cock, a shudder wracking through his powerful frame. His fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the locks almost painfully as he fights the urge to thrust forward and bury himself in the wet heat of your mouth.

But before he can act on that base instinct, you're moving, rising gracefully from the bed. Sylus watches you through hooded eyes, desire burning in their crimson depths as you bend down to retrieve his discarded silk tie.

He stands still, allowing you to circle behind him. The cool silk of the tie brushes against his skin as you wrap it around his wrists. Sylus's breath hitches as he feels your bare breasts press against his back, your hardened nipples dragging deliciously over his back.

You take your time tying the tie around his wrists, double knotting it securely. Sylus flexes his hands once the silk binds them, testing the strength of your knot. Satisfied, he settles, allowing you to restrain him as you wish.

"Like tying up a present, kitten?" he asks, a note of amusement threading through his words. Sylus turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, his gaze ripe with sinful promise. One eyebrow arches, daring you to keep teasing him, to keep pushing him to the brink of his control.

He watches, transfixed, as your pink tongue licks over his heavy balls once you sit on the edge of the bed again, tracing the ridged skin before gliding up the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Sylus's abdomen clenches, muscles jumping beneath his skin as you map every throbbing inch of him with lips and tongue.

"Fuck, kitten..." he grits out from between clenched teeth, pleasure sparking down his spine like lightning. "That feels...unf...incredible."

His cock pulses and flexes under your ministrations, the thick shaft swelling even larger as you work your way up to the bulbous head. Sylus's eyes drift shut, head falling back as you flick your tongue against the sensitive crown, teasing the weeping slit and smearing his precum across your lips.

Sylus's hips buck as you take the head into your mouth, just the tip disappearing past your soft lips as you suck gently. The sensation is electric, pleasure cresting through him in intense waves. His hands clench into fists, silk creaking under the strain as he fights the urge to grab your hair and fuck your face.

But he resists, allowing you to set the pace, to tease and taste him as you wish. His chest heaves with each labored breath, muscles rippling beneath the sheen of sweat that dampens his skin. The sight of you, naked and wanton, your lips wrapped around his cock, is almost too much to bear.

"More," Sylus demands, his voice strained with barely restrained lust. "Take more of me, kitten. Show me how badly you want it."

Sylus feels the warm, wet sensation of your saliva dripping down his shaft as you spit on his cock, coating the thick length with your saliva. The lewd sound of it, the obscene squelch as you spread the slickness over every pulsing inch, makes his balls tighten and his erection throb with need.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his voice rough and ragged with desire. "Get my cock nice and wet, kitten. Make it slick and ready for you".

Sylus's breath leaves him in a low, groan as you kneel on the bed and pull him closer, his cock now nestled snugly between the soft, pillowy mounds of your breasts. The sensation of your bare skin against the sensitive flesh of his shaft is exquisite, the silky smoothness a perfect contrast to the hard, throbbing heat of his erection.

He watches, enraptured, as you slowly envelop his thick cock between your breasts, the swollen head peeking out from the top of your cleavage as you squeeze them together around his length. Sylus's hips flex forward instinctively, seeking more of that incredible friction, more of the delicious pressure of your soft tits wrapped around him.

"Fuck, your tits..." Sylus pants, his hips rocking subtly as he savors the exquisite sensation. "They feel fucking incredible wrapped around me like this. Like they were made for my cock."

He watches, transfixed, as you start to move, slowly pumping your breasts up and down his length. The slick glide of your saliva-coated skin against his aching flesh is pure ecstasy, stoking the fires of his lust to new heights. Sylus's hands clench and unclench as he fights the urge to grab your tits, to squeeze and knead the plush globes as you work his cock.

Sylus's breath comes faster, his chest heaving as pleasure mounts with each slow, sensual glide of your breasts along his shaft. The sight of your tits wrapped around him, your lips parted and flushed, your eyes dark with desire - it's utterly erotic, beyond anything he's ever experienced.

"Don't stop," he demands, his hips starting to piston faster, fucking his cock through the tight channel your breasts create. "I want to fuck your tits until I paint them with my cum"

Just as his balls draw up tight to his body and his climax is teetering on the brink of explosion, you suddenly stop. Your breasts pause their sensual glide along his shaft, trapping his cock in the silky prison of your cleavage.

Sylus lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a snarl, as the sudden deprivation of sensation sends a jolt of frustrated, aching need surging through him. His hips jerk forward, trying instinctively to chase his rapidly receding orgasm, but your breasts remain still, denying him the release he so desperately craves.

"Wh-what are you...fuck, y/n.." Sylus grits out, his voice strained and ragged with barely restrained lust. He tugs at the tie binding his wrists, silk biting into his skin as he struggles against the makeshift bindings. "Why did you...ungh...stop?"

"No," you murmur softly, looking up at Sylus through hooded eyes. "Not yet. Tonight, I'm in control."

His chest heaves with each labored breath, sweat dripping down his furrowed brow as he glares down at you with a mix of exasperation and unbridled desire

"Since you're so eager to torture me, sweetie," he purrs, his voice a low, sinful rumble, "I think it's only fair that you put that clever tongue of yours to good use again. Don't you?"

He arches one eyebrow, the silent challenge hanging heavily in the air between you. Sylus's gaze drops pointedly to your mouth, then trails back up to meet your eyes, the heat in his stare burning like a brand.

You start to place open-mouthed kisses along the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Your lips are soft and plush, leaving a trail of slick, glistening kisses in their wake. Each press of your mouth against his sensitive flesh sends sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, stoking the fires of his lust to new heights.

His breathing grows heavier, chest rising and falling rapidly as you reach the swollen head of his erection. You linger there, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue along the ridge, tracing the shape of him with deliberate slowness.

Sylus lets out a sharp hiss of pleasure as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, your warm, wet mouth engulfing him in silken heat. He watches, enraptured, as you start to suck, your cheeks hollowing slightly with the motion. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive crown, tracing the ridge and flicking against the weeping slit, coaxing out bead after bead of precum that you lap up greedily.

Sylus lets out a groan, his body tensing as he feels your mouth suddenly leave his aching cock. Before he can protest, your tongue starts a slow, teasing trail up the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein that runs along it.

"You're playing a dangerous game, sweetie," he warns, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Teasing me like this, bringing me to the brink and then leaving me hanging...you're going to pay for that, you know."

Sylus inhales sharply, a shudder wracking his powerful frame as he feels your tongue flatten against his shaft, the textured surface dragging deliciously along the sensitive flesh. His fingers curl into the silk bindings.

"Beg sylus, be a good boy and beg" you say, looking up at him while you lick around the tip of his cock.

"Please, kitten..." he grits out, his voice a low, agonized rumble. "Please, I need...I need you to put an end to this torture. I'm so fucking close, I can't...I can't take anymore teasing."

He stares down at you, his crimson eyes blazing with a fevered intensity, the pupils blown wide with arousal. There's a sheen of sweat on his brow, his chest heaving with each labored breath as he struggles to maintain some semblance of control.

" Such a good boy, begging for release" Sylus's eyes widen in surprise at your words, a flicker of something almost like vulnerability passing over his handsome face, but it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a guttural, animalistic roar as your lips suddenly engulf him fully, taking his throbbing cock all the way down your throat in one swift motion. "FUCK! Oh fuck, kitten, yes!"

He is deep, his heavy balls resting against your chin, as you swallow around him. The sensation of your throat muscles fluttering and massaging his sensitive flesh is pure ecstasy, pushing him right to the brink of climax.

"Your mouth...your throat feels incredible," Sylus pants, his voice raw and strained with lust. He starts to rock his hips, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. "Take it all, sweetheart. Take every fucking inch of my cock"

His eyes glaze over with pleasure, crimson irises burning into yours as he loses himself in the bliss of your wet, welcoming heat. "Gonna...fuck, kitten, I'm gonna cum," Sylus grits out, his teeth bared in a feral grimace.

Sylus lets out a roar of pure, primal ecstasy as he feels your throat vibrate around his cock, your moan pushing him over the precipice. His hips surge forward, burying his throbbing shaft to the hilt as the first scalding spurts of his release erupt from the swollen head.

But to his shock and dismay, you suddenly pull back, your lips releasing him with a obscene pop. Before he can protest, you wrap your fingers around his pulsing cock, stroking him firmly as you aim his twitching erection at your heaving breasts.

"Kitten, what are you...FUCK!" Sylus's words dissolve into a guttural groan as thick ropes of pearly white cum paint your tanned skin, your fingers milking every last drop from his spurting cock.

His hips jerk and shudder, his muscular body wracked with the force of his intense climax.

He watches, dazed and panting, as his essence coats your breasts, dripping down the soft swells to pool in your cleavage. The sight of your beautiful flesh marked by his release sends a dark thrill through him.

"Such a naughty girl," Sylus rasps, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. "Teasing me like that, making me lose control...you like playing dangerous games, sweetheart."

Sylus watches, intensely focused, as you swipe a finger through the cooling splatters of his release painting your breasts. He smirks as you bring the digit to your mouth, your small pink tongue darting out to taste his essence.

"Like how it tastes, kitten?" he purrs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Sweet and salty, with a hint of sin. Just like you."

Your eyes flicker down to his wrists, noting the absence of the silk tie that once bound them. You raise a brow, wondering how he managed to slip free of the restraints.

Sylus's eyes flash with dark promise and he grips the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your silky hair as he pulls you closer until barely a breath separates your lips.

"You want to play dirty?" he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "You think you can play as dirty as I can, kitten? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, sweetheart."

 "But by all means, let's see what you've got. Let's dance this dance of yours and find out just how filthy you can be."

[click4rainy]

Imagine…

👽: RAHH ITS LIKE 6:30 AM!!! Had a dream about him and…enjoy.

❌:NOT Proof Read

🖇️: The WORST Wolverine x Reader

⚠️: very spicy.

📖: Imagine you’re backed up against the freezing brick wall of some random dive bar alley. Neon flickering and buzzing overhead. Logan’s hands and lips all over you…

★ Your neck, jawline, nipping at your earlobe. His hands pulling at the hem of your shirt, slipping under and grazing your skin. You can feel the cool air, making goosebumps in his wake. And can pick up the faint scent of whiskey on his breath, his eyes sharp, heated. And they read ‘complete trouble…’

★ “Mmh…t-this is a bad idea,” you whisper, cheeks flushed from the alcohol still dancing in your system, breath hitching as his calloused hands slowly, deliberately trace every curve and contour beneath your top. All ten fingertips testing, teasing. terrible…

★ “Hon, I’ll be the best ‘bad idea’ you ever had in your life.” Logan hums into the nape of your neck, sucking a hickey into the flesh, making you squirm. He only smirked against your skin before coaxing another soft mewl from you with a light nip.

★ Then, without warning, his mouth crashes into yours. Sudden, very sudden, despite anticipating it for the last ten minutes here against this wall, he took your breath away. Teeth clanking against each other, that fruity drink from earlier still lingering on your tongue, mixing a heady concoction with his much harsher flavor.

★ His hands are greedy, unapologetically so. Pulling you impossibly closer, he kicks your feet apart, hands moving to reach for your wrists, pinning them above your head effortlessly. He secures them with one large hand, his free one continuing to explore, to seek out. His hips begin to slowly grind against yours, letting you feel exactly what you do to him while he simply pops open your bottoms with a bit too much ease. Groaning, he shoves past your underwear, wasting no time to show you how ‘bad’ of an idea this truly is.

★ And you let him, knowing full well he’s awful for you—but damn if he doesn’t make awful feel so fucking amazing…

👽: I’m so DOWN BAD UGHH RAHHHHH REAUGHHHHH!!!!!

[wonton4rang]

Thinking about fingering with soft!dom Jacob.... 😵‍💫😮‍💨

no because the way I would FOLD omg.

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warnings: +18, fingering, slight orgasm denial, pet names (good girl like once or twice) and I think that's it.

note: I didn't read this after I wrote it so if there are any typos, I'm sorry, I'll fix them later : ' ) pd. hope you enjoy it, little pretty person who requested this <33

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jacob is such a sweetheart, he's kind, thoughtful and such an amazing boyfriend. but when he wanted to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world he knew the only thing he had to do was to pleasure you a bit.

so the day you got home because you were soooo tired of working and he saw you a bit down, he asked you to lay down for him after you came out of the shower with the sweetest voice ever.

the dim light in the room should've gave you a hint of what was going to happen when he softly placed your head on one of the pillows in the middle, kissed your lips for a moment, making sure to make you a bit breathless before he crawled to be between your legs.

your face was surprised when he finally held your thighs open and got closer to your clothed heat.

"you look so stressed lately, baby. is everything alright at work?" he asked, his gaze fixed on your pussy while his fingers pulled down your underwear, it made you gulp before he stopped his movements and his eyes met yours. "y/n? is everything okay?"

but just before he could remove his hands off your body, you held them in place, nodding with a soft gulp and allowing him to continue.

"it's fine, just a lot of work and new things to pick up on" you explained and jacob had already throw your underwear aside, his warm breath hitting your pussy and one long and harsh lick making you tremble. "god, cobie, are you really going to- oh my"

your words were dismissed when he simply closed his mouth on the bulge of nerves and sucked slightly, enough to make your thighs shake but soft enough to keep you steady with his hand on your lower abdomen.

the only thing you could see right now was his soft and fluffy brown hair while his face got lost in between your legs. you had the impulse to hold a grip of it and so you did, arching your back when he now started to quite literally eat you out.

when he starting sucking your folds, playing your clit with his nose, and pressing his tongue against your gapping hole, all you could do was arch your back; making the grip on his hair stronger and feeling how you started to leak every time more and more.

that's when he gave your clit a last suck and softly kissed your pussy lips before going up your body and kissing you in the mouth.

it was a rough kiss, not like the usual ones jacob uses to give you, he was hungry tonight and the way his tongue brushed against yours almost right away gave you an idea of how hot he was feeling by just eating you out a little bit.

and to be honest, you found that extremely hot.

your hands cupped his face before your hips instinctively raised to hump his growing bulge, but when your boyfriend took a stand on his knees right in the middle of your legs and placed your hips back down, you looked at him with curious eyes.

"cobie?" you called him and he just laughed a little bit, his middle and ring finger going to your mouth while he held your thighs open with the other hand.

"suck them, baby. for me, please"

and so you did, sucking his fingers while making eye contact with him, it was honestly a bit overwhelming because his gaze was overpowering yours right now so you stopped and released his fingers with a small 'pop', your lips being connected to them by a string of saliva that made jacob's mind go to places.

"you're so hot, y/n" was all he could say and you felt his previously sucked wet fingers play with your clit on a fast pace, your face contouring in pleasure and then a sudden moan leaving your lips when he entered both of them at the same time; immediately curling them inside of you. "you take me so well, like the good girl you are, huh? so eager"

you loved when he started with the pet names or the sweet words, it made your mind foggy and you felt a weird rush because how can such a nice and kind guy be fucking you with his fingers and talking so sweetly at the same time.

it didn't make sense.

but you weren't trying to find it a meaning either, the only thing you were trying to find was your composure when his fingers got faster, constantly curling against that bulge of nerves that was driving you crazy; your hands gripping the bedsheets and your moans just getting louder and louder.

he was so good at fingering you, making you feel so full and needy, soaked wet by just a few touches here and there, so ready to take whatever he wanted to give you.

"j-jacob... babe... I'm..." you couldn't even formulate a proper sentence at this point, specially not when he started dragging his fingers in and out, curling them the second he got inside of you and making the feeling a lot better because of the force he got on the in and out motion. "oh my god"

and just then he leaned down to kiss you, his fingers slowing a bit down when he took them out and instead played with your clit, a fast movement that was making your thighs shake. unfortunately you couldn't close them due to his body.

his kiss was dirty and yet soft, his lips moved slow but fast enough to make you loose the pace due to his hand playing tricks on your wet pussy. you were so close the second he started to kiss you with tongue again, god knows, and so does your boyfriend, that you loved to kiss him like this.

that's why he go his fingers inside of you again and stopped kiss you to look you right in the eyes, your lips red because of his kiss and your eyes watering up because of how overwhelmed you felt.

"cobie, I'm going to c-cum" you hastily said and your hands held his back, giving him a few scratches that just made him moan a little bit, causing you to feel even hotter because you loved when he made sounds like that with his sweet voice. "oh god, p-please let me... c-cum"

"you've been so good for me today, y/n, I think you do deserve to cum, um?" he answered and his fingers just curled inside of you faster, the wet sounds of your pussy filling up his ears and making him smirk a bit at you. "you want to cum, baby?" and you just could nod over and over again. "say please and I'll let you"

"p-please, cobie... let m-me... god!" your sentence was interrupted when he switched his fingers again, now toying your clit even faster than before and looking at you expecting, letting you know that he was still waiting for your answer. "let me cum, p-please"

"as you wish, do"

and you felt the heaven's gates opening up when you finally came, shaking a little bit when jacob got his fingers inside of you to help you pass the orgasm and also to collect some of your cum on his fingers, licking them with a pretty smile before kissing your lips one last time.

"that was amazing, love, thank you so much" you started by saying, taking his hand when he held it out for you to take. "I needed that so bad"

"I know my girl, y/n, if you needed something you can just ask me" and there he was again, that softie of a boy you got yourself. "let's get you clean, I made you dinner"

"oh, thanks, I thought I was going to sleep without eating today" he laughed and so did you, entering the bathroom and when he turned his back to go put your dinner on the table you asked: "are you having dinner with me too?"

"no, thanks" but when that grin appeared on his lips you knew what was coming. "I already eat"

and you watched him disappear with a look of disbelief in your face after he "cleaned" the corner of his mouth and laughed out loud his way to the kitchen.

the least you could do for him tonight was return him the favor, right?

[ray-of-light002]

Decided to write a random little story about Malleus and Yuu dancing during the glorious masquerade event. It popped into my head while taking a shower. This will be written from Malleus’ POV. Sorry if Malleus is OOC I tried my best to capture his personality by the wiki and his vignettes, Enjoy.

May I have this dance?

After his performance Malleus walked down from the stage. His presence so domineering that students parted to make way for him. His electric green eyes scanned the crowd for that one person. “Where ever could they be?” He muttered to himself indignantly. He paused as his eyes caught their’s. It was like, he was staring into their very soul with just how stoic he was. Unblinking even. As the prince approached he stopped in his very step, his eyes were captivated by Yuu’s clothing. The fae examined every contour, every curve with intense curiosity. He simply found his child of man captivating.

Then, as any gentleman did, he bowed and offered his hand. “May I have this dance, Child of man?” He asked, his voice a smoothing deep rumble that could shake someone to their core. It was a simple invitation, though with his tone it could scare someone. But he knew his Child of man didn’t see him as frightening. A smirk danced across his lips as the human accepted his hand. As they were both pulled into a waltz, Malleus made sure Yuu was steady.

“Did your family not teach you to waltz, Child of man?” He questioned bemused. A dark raven eyebrow raised as if it should’ve been common knowledge. “No, they didn’t.” Yuu responded as they stumbled, nearly stepping on one of Malleus’ feet. A deep chuckle found its way out of his throat. He leaned close his breath was warm and held the scent of brimstone; most likely due to his draconic nature. “Then I guess your lesson’s start now, child of man.” He whispered softly, his breathe tickling the human’s ear.

[scribeofmorpheus]

18+ short | Miguel O’Hara

"Ease into it" - Miguel O’hara x OC Althea Temple

Content Warning: 18+ VIEWER’S DISCRETION. PTA-meeting eye candy Miguel?; smut; pretty much the staple progression of foreplay to swooning (this chapter belongs to the series: Infinitely More) Words: 2.3k read on ao3 | Infinitely More

TRANSL: ¡Maldita sea! Has hecho un desastre con mi escritorio... ¿No es así? ¡Puedo saborearte en el aire!: "Dammit! You've made a mess of my desk... haven't you? I can taste you in the air!"

***

Miguel had been prepared to spend the rest of his afternoon counting down the hours until he could log off his computer, turn off all notifications to his email and distract himself with a few laps at the pool until Aly got off shift.

It had been a tiresome month for her. Her time off since the accident had rewired her clock. Sticking to routine became harder for her, and the expectation that she could simply jump right back into work as though she’d never left was a foolhardy one.

Going from doing 6k steps a day on average to busting her ass at the hospital, increasing her daily step count to 20k+ was just the start of it.

There were the late nights. The out-of-synch sleep-work schedules. Missed PTA meetings at Hope’s new school—not that Miguel minded stepping in for her, the soccer moms were easily distracted by a well-timed smile and tactfully chosen tight shirts. Hope actually preferred it when Miguel picked her up from school. They’d sometimes take scenic routes back to the apartment, sneaking ice cream before dinner, making impromptu stops at the planetarium or science museums when they both needed an excuse to put off doing their chores.

But, as much as Miguel enjoyed their new dynamic—their new apartment and calm ever-after—he also missed Aly. He missed watching cheesy reruns of her favourite TV show. He missed cooking with her. He missed date night and heavy make-out sessions on the couch when they’d have the apartment to themselves.

And, from the state of how easily riled up he was, the ache radiating through him as he stood under the gym showers, cold water steaming from the heat roiling off his tense muscles, he missed being able to satiate his baser urges.

His mind kept conjuring the contour of her waist under his grip, the shine of her hips as they snaked around his midriff, the rhythm her breasts would fall into when his thrust would grow even, her mouth parted in an O…

God! He turned the faucet to the coldest level. He was getting hard.

Not feeling like the gym showers were the most accommodating of locations, Miguel cut his shower short, conditioner still weighing his hair down as he ran the towel through his hair.

As he worked his way into his boxers, he was painstakingly aware of how much heavier he felt straining against the white cotton. Fuck. He swallowed his sweet venom and grumbled as he was instantly reminded of his late start to breakfast a few days earlier.

Aly had been on her period—a situation that made his current predicament so much worse; Aly was always more… catty when she was on her period. Easily riled. Restless through midnight. The bane to his big spoon when she’d grind against him.

To make up for it—or possibly to satiate her own desire to see him wrecked and covered in sweat—Aly had given him a toe-curling orgasm with her mouth. Her throat opening up to swallow as much as she could before his cum splattered onto her bare chest.

Maybe a run was in order.

 Just as he was about to untangle his jeans from his legs, a message popped up on his watch.

NARWHAL: HEY THERE, BANDIT! I HAVE FANTASTIC NEWS… GINA AGREED TO COVER MY SHIFT. NARWHAL: HOPE’S SLEEPING OVER AT BREA’S. WE HAVE THE APARTMENT TO OURSELVES… NARWHAL: ARE YOU ALONE?

A sudden dryness overcame his mouth as he tried to swallow the influx of sweet, sweet venom.

With a controlled breath, Miguel hastily backed his gym back, tied his shoelaces and leaned across the bench, peeking to see if there was anyone around.

Dead silence.

Heart hammering wildly, he typed: YES.

NARWHAL: GOOD…

The three dots kept dancing on his screen as he waited for her to finish the text, but then a video file loaded in the chat. The audio symbol was slashed in the top right corner. Thank fuck! No audio.

His hands were trembling when he pressed play, and then he nearly ruptured a blood vessel when he watched the video.

Aly had slipped into a dark, lacey lingerie slip dress. The camera panned from her collarbone to her nipples, lingering by the tattoo on her ribs before dipping to her bellybuttom, and then lower… zooming into the red cord that tickled her inner thigh.

He knew what that cord was attached to.

Hidden under her dress, buried inside her, were two Ben Wa balls. She’d ordered them after reading a foreplay article centred on “adjusting to size easier”.

He couldn’t tell if she stretched easier after removing them, but he knew she was always soaked. More of a friction chaser.

“Volviéndome loco.…” he cursed into the empty space, somewhat ashamed he considered working one out right then and there.  

Furiously, he typed: DON’T MOVE AN INCH. I’M ON MY WAY HOME.

He could instantly sense her in their apartment. Her body heat, her shallow panting, the way her scent permeated the air despite the scented candles she’d lit.

When he opened the door and tossed his jacket onto the couch, he could all but taste her.

“Althea…” he said her name devoutly.

“I…” she sucked in a breath, her voice quivering from inside his office. “I’ve been waiting…”

He pulled down his zipper, all but moaning when he finally got free of the rough material. Aly was poised at his desk, glasses on, legs crossed. Her panties were rumpled carelessly at the base of the desk. He could see the spot she’d soaked through from the doorway.

“I figured it’s been a while…” she pulled one strap of her dress over her shoulder, “since I wore lace for you… mi amor.”

His shirt got tangled with his elbows, his body automatically gravitating towards her until his thigh bumped the desk.

Aly laughed, placing her hands over his wrists, “Here, let me help you get free.”

“Please,” he begged, parking himself by her knees. “¡Maldita sea! Has hecho un desastre con mi escritorio... ¿No es así? ¡Puedo saborearte en el aire!”

Suddenly, Aly stopped untangling his shirt, her fingers tracing slow paths to his chest, circling his hard nipples. “You could lap it clean if you like…”

He turned wolfish. And even though she couldn’t see him grin, from the ungodly noise that escaped his throat, she was well aware he was all on board.

He ripped his shirt, freeing his hands, and then he was on his knees, prying her legs apart and drawing her flush to the edge of the desk. His suspicion had been correct. A thick ropey line traced an arc between her swollen clit and the pool of slick on his desk.

He closed his eyes as the scent grew several degrees more intense. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t end up seeing the back of his skull, how far back his eyes rolled as he stuck out his tongue and covered her cunt with his mouth.

His tongue was obscured from pushing past her entrance by the Ben Wa balls, but he discovered a new pro: he could bite down on the cord and pull, only slightly, denying her the stretch that she so eagerly wanted.

She fisted his hair, screaming “Yes! Fuck! Miguel… Oh, your tongue is so hot.” She egged him on, snaking her hips and digging her heels into his back.

He could barely breathe he was buried so deep, but god he wouldn’t have minded going out by suffocation. His cock jutted, reminding him he was still palpably hard. His veins dilated to bursting. His balls so full. So much of himself to give her. So much to fill her with. And not enough of the night.

As he started to rise to his feet, he kept his jaw clenched on the cord between her legs, inching out the balls from inside her. Her legs shook with each tug, her body turning to a ragdoll, limbs heavy and mewling noises too delicious to even consider keeping hushed.

The first ball was stubborn, but once it popped free, the second followed easily, pulling ropes of slick that had been unable to escape her.

No thought about it, he was back on his knees, drinking her up, lapping savagely until she begged him to make her cum. With vigour, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked feverishly as he plunged two fingers into her cunt and started to finger fuck her. Sloppy, wet, squelching, he had to cup his own tip to keep from spilling too much of himself on the floor. She had been devious. She deserved every drop. Every. Single. Drop.

“Miguel! Miguel! Miguel! Mig—” she gasped, her thighs pressing tightly around his ears till all he could hear was the thunder of her blood rushing through her veins as she came on his face.

Her ankles unlocked after a few breaths; his hearing still entranced with her heart. Struggling to keep his breathing even, he pulled free and readjusted their position.

 He slapped his cock onto her cunt, placing his hands under her knees, and locking her ankles together until her thighs formed a nice closing around his cock.

“My turn,” he said, biting back the urge to ram forward like a mindless animal and pleasure himself on her thighs, cock rubbing against her eager opening.

“All yours,” she mooned. “Every inch. Take everything! Give me every inch of you.”

Shit! He seized his thrusts, angling his tip to her entrance. “Whatever you desire!” And then he entered her.

“It’s okay, mi vida… just like that—Yes! Mmm, I know you can stretch a little more for me… just a bit more,” he couldn’t help but let the slick of his venom pass into her through the rough kiss. He hadn’t shaved in a while, his scruff prickly, causing Aly’s body to vibrate with laughter, bucking and writhing, her thighs and lower back working in opposition. She yearned to relax as he pressed himself deeper and deeper, but she was also ticklish, despite being ravished well and good by his deft tongue. He plunged farther into her mouth as he felt his cock grow warmer inside her divine wetness. “Fuuuuuuck. Aly… so slick—Hmmgh! God, just a little more. Almost… fully… inside… you. Hhnnggg, there… look at you, so pretty, so full…” he traced his palm to her belly, felt himself strain against her there, his cock fully sheathed, balls deep. He looked down at her face, giving her an appraising smirk, this impossible sensation of holding something coveted and all his… it made him leak cum into her undulating cunt, her walls clenching down with intent. “Taking everything inside you like the good girl you are, fuck. I’ve missed you.”

She raked her fingers through the silver of his hair, rubbing deliciously at the base of his skull. “You saw me at breakfast.”

He bit down on her neck, his venom slicking her skin, making her moan, her eyes rolling back, heavy-lidded. He took the opportunity to drive her dangerously close to the edge and rutted forward, anchoring his weight on the balls of his feet, causing the bed to creak in protest, the headboard knocking against the wall.

Aly gushed. And not just in the cute way the blush of her skin would kiss her collarbone, her thighs, her belly… Sno, it didn’t stop there. A torrent of warmth meandered out of her cunt as he pulled back, entranced by the scent of their sex. Driven to absolute madness by the copper taste of her on his lips. The sound of her moaning as he slammed forward, the tip of his cock sensitive and unguarded by his foreskin as it hit her walls with slip, and that tantalising resistance of her body still adjusting to his size.

“Don’t play coy, car amia,” he commanded, secretly hoping she’d refuse to listen. “I know how to unravel you like I was the very thing that wove you together. I know how to make you beg.”

She smiled, her hand reaching between their joined bodies to grasp his throbbing cock with a menacing grip.

“Don’t pretend as though I didn’t have you whimpering into my pillow the other morning,” she swallowed loudly, licking her lips as if ravished, as if she could practically taste his cock in that instant. She began to pump her hand against him. Long, slow, firm strokes that made him eke out a strangled groan. She sighed contentedly when the sound of her hand fucking him turned lewd, precum glistening on her palm. “It seems we both know how to play coy, I’m just a better brat.”

He bit down on his lip, the pillowcase tearing as his claws inched out. Control was beginning to become a suggestion.

“Then this is the point where I punish you, isn’t it?” he cocked a brow and she shuddered. Then he lifted her off the desk and sat himself in his large leather chair, never disconnecting them. “Too bad… looks like you’ll have to fuck me.”

Aly was speechless for a second, taken aback, pouting at the responsibility of having to be the power driver of their pleasure train. Lord knows her muscles weren’t up to the task, given his inhuman endurance. But watching her face go from bratty to shocked did make him swell with pride… and other parts.

She bit back a moan as she worked her legs through the chair’s armrests, planting her weight on her toes and circling her arms around his neck for leverage.

“I’m going to make you squirm, O’Hara…” she threatened.

“I’d like to see you tr—”

She slammed down onto his cock, making him gasp. Her whole body shook, slapping against his hard one.  

Maybe his endurance wasn’t so inhuman after all.

“You were saying?” she smirked, sucking on the shell of his ear.

He threaded his fingers through her curls, unruly and thick from the humid air in the room. Using his nose to paint a line from throat to ear, he whispered: “I love you.”

***

[if you loved this, there's more on my ao3! also, I live off validation/engagement! Come say hi!]

[faceglitchsworld]

Primrose's Steal Heart at Simply K-Pop CONTOUR

[pixiemoodus]

Crescent Crossbody Bag: A Perfect Blend of Form and Function

In the ever-evolving world of fashion accessories, the crescent crossbody bag has emerged as a go-to staple for mode, this bag is not just a trend-it’s a lifestyle choice. Whether you're running errands, heading to brunch, or exploring a new city, the crescent crossbody seamlessly fits into any routine with effortless elegance.

What Is a Crescent Crossbody Bag?

The crescent crossbody bag is defined by its unique moon-like silhouette. Unlike traditional square or rectangular bags, this crescent shape naturally contours to your body, creating a flattering and ergonomic carry. Typically worn across the torso or over one shoulder, it offers a secure and comfortable option for those who are always on the move.

This bag style has gained popularity not just for its aesthetic appeal but also for its practical features. With a surprisingly roomy interior, it can carry all your daily essentials-phone, wallet, keys, lip balm, and even a small notebook-without feeling bulky.

Why It’s a Must-Have Accessory

Effortless Versatility

The crescent crossbody bag transitions beautifully from day to night. Pair it with a casual jeans-and-tee outfit for a laid-back daytime look, or sling it over a sleek dress for an evening out. The minimalist design complements a variety of personal styles, from edgy to boho to classic.

Hands-Free Convenience

There's a reason vegan crossbody bags are loved by commuters and travelers alike-they free up your hands without sacrificing accessibility. Whether you're navigating a busy street or juggling a coffee and your phone, a crescent crossbody keeps your essentials close without getting in the way.

Fashion Meets Function

While the crescent silhouette makes a chic statement, it’s also thoughtfully constructed to offer more than just good looks. Many styles include adjustable straps, multiple pockets, and zip closures to keep your items organized and secure. Some versions are even made with sustainable materials, allowing you to look good while doing good.

Styling the Crescent Crossbody Bag

One of the best things about this bag style is how easily it integrates into any wardrobe. For a casual daytime ensemble, wear your crescent crossbody with high-waisted trousers, a tucked-in blouse, and loafers. The curved design adds a soft contrast to structured silhouettes, balancing the overall look.

For evening occasions, opt for a black or metallic version of the crescent bag. The curved shape and compact size make it an elegant alternative to a clutch, with the bonus of being much easier to carry.

In colder months, this style pairs beautifully with oversized coats and scarves. Simply adjust the strap to sit above or below your layers for maximum comfort and accessibility.

Sustainable Style from Pixie Mood

Pixie Mood, known for its commitment to cruelty-free and eco-conscious fashion, offers crescent crossbody bags that are as ethical as they are stylish. Crafted from high-quality vegan leather and recycled materials, their designs prioritize both durability and sustainability. Whether you're looking for a neutral shade to match everything or a pop of color to brighten your outfit, you'll find options that suit your lifestyle and values.

Pixie Mood’s crescent crossbody bags also feature smart compartments and sleek finishes, making them an ideal choice for those who don’t want to compromise on style or function. With timeless colors and minimalist detailing, these bags are made to last-both in design and durability.

Final Thoughts

The crescent crossbody bag is more than a fashion accessory-it's a symbol of modern functionality wrapped in elegant design. As trends come and go, this piece has proven itself to be a lasting favorite for women who value both practicality and style. Whether you're dressing up or keeping it casual, the crescent crossbody adds a touch of effortless chic to any outfit.

If you're ready to refresh your accessories, consider adding a crescent crossbody bag to your collection. It’s a small change that can make a big impact on how you carry your day-stylishly, sustainably, and hands-free.

[rinsuniverse]

hello! i love doing make up on people and i love when they do my make up so can you make something like we doing woozi's make up and then he does our make up too (sorry if its sounds weird english is not my main language 😭😭)

doing makeup with woozi! ✧˖°.

this is a cute idea because i LOVE makeup (it's my favorite thing!)

i feel like one of the best parts of being able to date a kpop idol would be that there isn't a bunch of toxic masculinity when it comes to things like makeup or fashion!

when you suggested the idea to woozi, it kind of came out of nowhere

you were both at his studio

he was working on his music (of course)

and you were sitting on the couch, looking through pinterest

you were saving many pins onto a pin board of korean makeup for men because the concept really fascinated you!

you loved makeup already and did a lot of it on yourself and on women, but you haven't tried doing men's makeup before

so you got up out of your seat and went to sit next to woozi's seat at his desk, pulling up a small stool

"jihoon?"

"hmm?"

"can i do your makeup some time?"

"like for my schedules? i'd have to talk to my bosses for that-"

"no, i mean, like just for fun at home."

he turns away from his work to look at you and offers you a smile

"sure. i'll find some time this week."

you love how he has so much confidence in your abilities

he's a very supportive person and would support your interests whole-heartedly

you also like how he doesn't even bother asking why

and that's how you found yourself in your bedroom with jihoon sitting in front of a mirror wearing your pink, fluffy headband to keep his hair out of his face

you quickly did his eyebrows, tinting them and making them appear fuller

then you did his face makeup with some nice spf and skin tints, spot concealing as you go

you tried contouring following a video you had seen about male kpop idol makeup

as you were doing it, you became kind of nervous

you were sitting criss-cross in front of jihoon, and he started laughing

"you don't need to hold your breath," he says, putting his hand on your knee

his fingers dance a rhythm on your knee, following the music he had playing for the both of you

"i'm just nervous," you say, sighing. "i don't want to mess this up."

"if you mess up, we can start over. you have me all night," he says, trying to comfort you

"true"

and you successfully go about contouring!

then you get to the fun part: the eyeshadow!

you decide you want to play with color, glitter, and some gems!

"is that glitter?" he asks, pointing at your things

"yep! i have a look i want to do on you"

"are you making me into a princess? ((T_T))"

"it'll be fine, just trust me!"

and you do some nice eyeshadow on him, though it's less natural than he usually has on

you decorate with some small gems

he looks into the small hand mirror you gave him and he's winking his eyes to see what you did

"this is pretty," he says quietly

"really?"

"i should post it on weverse," he smirks

you finish up the final touches, and he looks happy

he's simply amazed at how talented you are

"do you like it?"

"yeah, you're really good at this. you should come work at hybe."

"as if!"

"you have to take pictures of me so i can show the members"

and that's when an idea pops up in your head

"ji, wanna do my makeup?"

"uh, what?"

"you should do my makeup!"

"i only know the basics. i couldn't do something cool like this."

"that's fine!"

you swap spots with him, and he does some simple makeup on you

you share some jokes as the two of you mess around, but it was a really fun quality time for you two

"jihoon, you put so much glitter on my eyelids"

"isn't that what you do?"

"i mean, i guess?"

"i think it looks good. wait, is that a colorful eyeshadow palette? maybe i should-"

"no! let's not look at that!"

"what? i could make you into a rainbow"

"jihoon!"

at the end, you take selfies with him (bonus if you both do a wooahae pose)

you mess up his lips by giving him a quick peck and he freaks out

"hey! i haven't taken the pictures yet! come fix this"

"yes, sir, right away!"

and you both goof off into the night

thank you so much for this request! feel free to request many, many more ✧( ु•⌄• )◞◟( •⌄• ू )✧

(p.s. requests are still open! ς(>‿<.))

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

The Best of Rhythm & Soul 1989 Soul / R&B / Funk / Pop

Looks like Priority mostly loaded up on stuff from two of the most eminent labels in the history of R&B and soul here, Motown and Stax, in order to put this comp together in 1989. It leads off with back-to-back-to-back offerings from Motown's legendary songwriting and production trio of Holland-Dozier-Holland (Diana Ross & The Supremes' "Stop! In the Name of Love," Four Tops' "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)," and Martha Reeves & The Vandellas' "(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave"), and then also finds room for James Brown's "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" too.

So this is pretty much 'baby's first 60s R&B and soul' comp, with the exception of Gladys Knight and The Pips' "Midnight Train to Georgia," which was released in '73. I've also always been struck by Johnnie Taylor's "Who's Makin' Love" too, because it really sounds like its guitar riff was interpolated a bunch of years later by Queen for the bassline on "Another One Bites the Dust," but I don't think I've ever come across any official confirmation of that.

Oh, and Amii Stewart's over-the-top infectious 1979 hi-nrg/disco cover of Eddie Floyd's Stax classic, "Knock on Wood," is simply the bees' knees, but Floyd's much slower original here is pretty terrific too 👍.

So great music overall, and highly recommended for the uninitiated, but a pretty bog-standard oldies soul and R&B comp nevertheless.

Highlights:

Diana Ross & The Supremes - "Stop! In the Name of Love" Four Tops - "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)" Martha Reeves & The Vandellas - "(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave" The Temptations - "I Can't Get Next to You" Gladys Knight and The Pips - "Midnight Train to Georgia" The Contours - "Do You Love Me" Jackie Wilson - "Baby Workout" Eddie Floyd - "Knock On Wood" Edwin Starr - "Twenty-Five Miles" Johnnie Taylor - "Who's Makin' Love" James Brown - "It's a Man's, Man's World"

[madamzellegiry]

Early in my singular relationship with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I often found myself at odds with his peculiar habits and disregard for order. Most days, I resigned myself to overlooking his eccentricities, but there were times when the smallest disturbances set my teeth on edge. Sharing quarters where glass beakers could explode without warning was enough to try the patience of any man; for me, unaccustomed to such chaos since returning to London, it was particularly vexing.

One evening, as the London fog sprawled thick through the streets, swallowing lamplight and muffling the clatter of hooves, I felt this irritation creeping upon me. Beyond the window of 221B Baker Street, the world vanished into a vaporous gray void, pressing against the panes like a specter. Inside, the fire murmured quietly, its warmth contending with the damp clinging to Holmes's coat, discarded carelessly over a chair.

I sat opposite the window, a hearth rug draped over my aching legs, absently thumbing through the previous day's newspaper. October's chill often lodged itself in my bones, a persistent ache born of old wounds. The winds and wet aggravated my stiffness, a discomfort I endured with the aid of time, patience, and a well-tended fire. But endurance brought little solace. It was simply the price of living with such scars.

Holmes, oblivious as ever to the cold, sat cross-legged on the hearthrug, his violin resting against one knee. His free hand tapped the polished wood in an uneven rhythm, his thoughts plainly far afield. Firelight danced over his face, accentuating the hollows beneath his sharp cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze, fixed on some distant abstraction. The erratic tapping grew louder, softer, louder again—a grating pulse that seemed to echo the pain radiating from my leg.

I remained ensconced in my chair, its familiar contours a small mercy against the discomfort that clung to me. The silence between us stretched, punctuated only by the occasional pop of a stray ember or the groan of the old floorboards beneath the weight of time. I found myself staring at the hearth, my mind drifting in idle currents against the pain, until Holmes's voice sliced through the cloudiness.

"Watson," he said abruptly, not lifting his eyes from the fire. His tone carried an edge sharp enough to cut through the muffled warmth of the room. "Your insistence on silence is uncharacteristic. Has the seasonal damp finally provoked its usual protest from your leg?"

I shifted instinctively, the familiar ache flaring at his words, as though the wound resented being noticed. "I'm fine, Holmes," I replied, too quickly and too firmly. My hand, unbidden, drifted to the scar.

In the flickering glow of the firelight, Holmes and Watson face the scars that linger—Watson’s from war, Holmes’s from a life spent unraveling chaos. But in the stillness of Baker Street, their friendship becomes a balm for wounds too deep to heal alone.

[minti-tales]

A treat will be awaiting minti when she enters her rooms at GA headquarters: a plate of sliced limes, cut into perfect circles and placed in an ornate bowl. A glass of what appears to be a sweet and fruity beverage is placed next to it. A folded note is placed in front:

“Green like your eyes - T”

Minti Chocolate undergoes a change.

CW: Body dysphoria, language, mental health, nudity.

A miracle potion, contained within one slender, royal blue-tinted bottle. A convenient way to become a new man - or woman - by simply sleeping, as long as the drinker had removed all their clothing before getting into bed.

That's what the drink was supposed to be, if the heavily robed hyur who gave it to Minti hadn't lied. A free sample, meant to give the viera the same power of transformation that it had for the lalafell, now hyur, gladiator she helped earlier that day. The fellow who wanted a shot of confidence before their big debut in the Ul'dahn Coliseum.

It was so utterly convenient, wasn't it, the way that the gladiator just happened to walk up to the peddler and Minti as they were talking. Just happened to flex his muscles like one of the Mandervilles, and declare that he felt as if he were a man renewed - a lalafell reborn. Odd, too, that the peddler acted as if nothing had ever taken place, and practically shoved a spare bottle into the viera's bags before scuttling off to whatever alley he happened to come from. The whole thing stunk, if she could be honest with herself. Stunk like a wilted cactuar. A set-up. That's what it was. A set-up.

That scene by Sapphire Alley was surely just a scheme to separate the viera from her gil, a distraction to keep her from helping a person in need. There were geomancers in Kugane who did a similar thing, pretending to divine fortunes for gaijin visitors and shoving healing bracelets onto their wrists. "A donation," they'd intone, over and over, "A donation and all your troubles will be gone. Your love - returned from overseas. Your purse - full to bursting. All for a small donation. This bracelet will keep you safe, but the kami will sour your fortune if you do not seek my help.

Have care, good sir. Have care."

---

There was a part of Minti Chocolate that felt as if she wasn't herself.

A mask from some forgotten play clung to her flesh, refusing to peel off. Minti had made peace with herself after the events of recent days, yes, but something still dug its pinching claws into the contours of her face, spun tight sticky strands by her eyes, her lips, the parts of her that could extend the fibers of her muscles into what passed for a smile.

She could feel the thing's reach over her all the way up to her very long ears.

Voidspawn.

Dragonspawn.

The heretic girl sheltered by the heretic knight.

What a shame that she didn't burn along with her House's Lady.

The viera was herself, but also, very strongly, she wasn't. This she knew. In this moment, hidden away from her friends and coworkers, she couldn't reach the bottle to pop the cork, drink it all in one go, and get herself into her comfy bed to sleep. Her clothes were off, she was as naked as could be, but she could. Not. Reach it.

Was she sweating? She must be. Twelve, this must be panic, or...

What would Krile think? She'd say something about being true to yourself or some shite, nothing good or of import. But, but being true meant taking risks, yes? Yes?

(The Signora): Better to stay as you are, my dear. To smile and laugh and be a good girl and stay out of sight, lest the priest with the burning gaze sees you too-

Minti's hand was shaking, reaching for the bottle. She was close - so close that the tips of her fingers were chilled by the dripping liquid coming off the bottle. How her hand shook!

Ah, but then there was the cool of a bird flapping its wings from nearby. A great, warm, gigantic bird roosting by her, and extending a wing across the whole of her back.

(The Firebird): To what heights must I climb to reach your heart, Minti? Are you afraid to trust someone who doesn't wear your face? Who is not you?

A lifetime ago, you gave me your trust, and I, in you. Our hearts were shared, our wings aloft on the same skies. Do not tell me that the world has forced you to rise to where none can touch you. Where I, your center, your flame, cannot find you.

Do not dare tell me that you are paralyzed with guilt, my love. You do not deserve a moment more of living with this pain.

Allow me. I will not ask your permission, you are clearly in no position to give it.

Consider what I do an act of selfless love.

Harken to me.

Listen to my melody, my heart.

---

Ah, yes.

Minti was awake.

It'd been such a long sleep, and she was sure that her head was being drummed on by an entire percussion section of lalafells. Twelve, everything hurt.

What was over by her table? Her bags and adventuring gear had been pushed to the side for...fruit. A glass with green liquid in it. A square piece of vellum - a note?

She should go get. She shoul- Ahh!

The floor hurts when you fall on it, doesn't it. It hurts more when your limbs feel like a newborn dhamel, flailing about this way and that, your brain firing off commands to nerves and muscles that haven't a damned clue what they're supposed to be doing.

(Minti): Little steps. I'll take little steps. I'll crawl on the floor if I have to, like a damned newborn. I don't care who sees me. I don't. Care.

After stumbling over to the table, her legs and feet making the weakest attempts at working, Minti got some answers. It wasn't her imagination playing tricks on her, there was fruit. A plate of sliced emerald green fruit, each perfectly cut, in an ornate bowl. How considerate. Mayhap if she had a bite-

(Minti): Agh. Gah. Sour. Quite sour. Pfleh.

The calm, androgynous voice of The Artist reached Minti's ears. Louder than a whisper, with the delivery of an authority figure who was...disappointed. Not mad, just disappointed.

(The Artist): <Calmly> Minti.

(Minti): <Frustrated> What?

(The Artist): I believe those are limes, of the fruit variety.

(Minti): No shite, I knew they were limes.

(The Artist): Limes happen to be sour, not sweet.

(Minti): I know that.

(The Artist): Why did you eat them?

(Minti): I was hungry.

(The Artist): ....

(Minti): Don't you go quiet on me, I'm not stupid.

(The Artist): Read the note. But first, you may wish to squeeze the limes into the glass, stir, drink, and look at your visage upon yonder vessel's surface. I believe some...rather dramatic changes have taken place.

One sweet and sour drink later, and The Artist was proven right. There had been changes.

To start, Minti was taller, quite taller. She had broad shoulders, long braided black hair that flowed down her back, a scar along her left cheek, amongst other changes. The woman was as if a sculptor had crafted a Hellsguard woman out of Thanalan clay and breathed life into her. To say that she was statuesque was putting it mildly.

After patting her cheeks, pulling her nose, and doing all the things you aren't supposed to do with your face, Minti reached for the square piece of vellum which had laying by the glass and fruit. Lucky that her magnifiers were nearby.

It read, "Green like your eyes - T." She did have such striking green eyes, didn't she?

Even in this new form, this...Hellsguard Roegadyn, if there could be any certainty of it, Minti Chocolate had green eyes.

A green drink, for a woman with beautiful green eyes.

[newfashion01]

Denver Broncos NFL 2025 Limited Edition Football Jersey

Link Product: https://inspirdg.com/product/denver-broncos-nfl-2025-limited-edition-football-jersey/

Denver Broncos NFL 2025 Limited Edition Football Jersey: A Bold Statement for the Mile High Faithful

A Vision Reborn in Orange and Navy

In the heart of the Rocky Mountains, the Denver Broncos stand as more than a football team—they are a legacy of grit, power, and altitude-driven glory. The Denver Broncos NFL 2025 Limited Edition Football Jersey captures this unrelenting spirit in a design that is both iconic and refreshingly modern.

Crafted for the true Broncos enthusiast, this jersey is not just a piece of fanwear—it is an emblem of loyalty, energy, and unshakable pride. From the sweeping gradient of sunset orange to the deep navy base that anchors the design, this jersey radiates a bold sense of identity and aesthetic excellence.

Dynamic Design with a Mile High Twist

The first thing that strikes you is the mesmerizing color gradient that fades from a rich, electric orange at the shoulders to a sleek midnight navy at the waist. This visual transition is more than style—it evokes the transition from sunset to nightfall over Mile High Stadium, capturing the emotional peaks of game night in Denver.

A pair of bright orange side panels frame the jersey and give it a sculpted, athletic look—creating a silhouette that celebrates speed, strength, and movement. The dynamic energy of the Broncos’ playstyle is woven into every visual line of this jersey, from its pointed sleeve angles to its modernized torso shaping.

Honoring the Broncos Legacy with Precision

At the center of the chest, the word "BRONCOS" appears in clean, bold white font—proudly standing in contrast to the dark navy field. Above it, the legendary Broncos horse head logo gallops forward in a blaze of motion, symbolizing the team’s unrelenting drive and fighting spirit.

The AFC conference badge is stitched on the upper left chest, while the NFL shield sits proudly between the shoulders on the back collar, connecting this jersey to the wider battlefield of gridiron warriors. These details are not just aesthetic—they’re historic markers, grounding the jersey in tradition.

Personalization That Elevates the Fan Experience

On the reverse side, your custom name and number shine in bright orange with clean white outlines, popping against the dark background. This bold personalization doesn’t just make the jersey unique—it makes it yours.

Whether you're repping your own name, a family legacy, or paying homage to a Broncos legend, this customizable touch is a powerful tribute to the passion that fuels Denver’s fandom.

It transforms this jersey from merchandise into a personal emblem—a daily reminder that you're part of the Broncos Nation family.

Craftsmanship That Matches Champions

Built by Fanatics, the 2025 edition is crafted using premium athletic fabric. The material is soft, breathable, and made for both comfort and durability—ideal for long hours of tailgating, stadium chants, or just catching the game at home.

Its moisture-wicking tech keeps sweat at bay, while the fit strikes a perfect balance between loose jersey tradition and modern tailored style. The V-neck collar is sharp and professional, enhancing the shirt’s on-field-ready vibe while remaining casual enough for daily wear.

This is not a mass-produced gimmick. This is a limited-edition release that feels like a true collectible and wears like performance gear.

A Style That Speaks Beyond Football

What sets this jersey apart is its cross-cultural design inspiration. Borrowing from soccer jersey aesthetics with its vertical contours and sleek minimalism, the Broncos have landed on a product that’s both sporty and globally stylish.

It becomes more than a football jersey—it’s a fashion-forward fan statement. Whether you wear it to represent your team or simply to flex your sports streetwear style, it delivers on every level.

A Must-Have for Broncos Country

If you’re a die-hard in Broncos Country, the 2025 Limited Edition jersey is not a maybe—it’s a must-have. It's a direct line to your passion, your team, your story. Every detail, from the gradient color fade to the custom nameplate, has been engineered for pride.

When you put it on, you're not just showing up for the team—you’re declaring your identity.

Conclusion: Ride High with the 2025 Broncos Jersey

The Denver Broncos NFL 2025 Limited Edition Football Jersey is more than fabric and thread—it’s a powerful visual and emotional representation of what it means to believe in something bigger. It channels the altitude, intensity, and heritage of one of the NFL’s most passionate franchises into a piece that is equal parts art, performance, and pride.

Whether you're charging into the stadium, gathering with friends, or walking the streets of Denver, this jersey ensures the world knows: you ride with the Broncos.

[usa2025store01]

El Paso Chihuahuas Star Wars Night Limited Edition Baseball Jersey

Link Product: https://flavorhauted.com/product/el-paso-chihuahuas-star-wars-night-limited-edition-baseball-jersey/

A FORCE ON THE FIELD: THE EL PASO CHIHUAHUAS STAR WARS NIGHT LIMITED EDITION BASEBALL JERSEY

When the energy of a galaxy far, far away collides with the unbreakable hometown spirit of Minor League Baseball, something extraordinary happens. The El Paso Chihuahuas Star Wars Night Limited Edition Baseball Jersey is more than a uniform—it’s an artistic fusion of fandom, nostalgia, and identity. It's not only one of the most visually arresting cross-brand designs to hit the field, but also a storytelling masterpiece that allows fans to wear their allegiance—whether to the team, the Force, or both—proudly on their sleeve.

A GALACTIC MASHUP THAT WORKS

At the core of this design is something that’s often attempted but rarely executed so well: authentic crossover storytelling. The jersey blends the beloved Star Wars aesthetic with the bold, mischievous charm of the El Paso Chihuahuas brand. Rather than being a simple novelty item, this jersey takes itself seriously as a piece of creative design, honoring both franchises without compromising the identity of either.

The Chihuahuas' fierce mascot is prominently placed in an almost Sith-like posture, stylized with red-and-black accents that echo the darker, more powerful side of the Force. Surrounding this are scattered white star patterns, casting the whole jersey in a cosmic theme that draws the eye and invites conversation.

DARK SIDE DOMINANCE: DARTH VADER’S BOLD PRESENCE

Front and center stands Darth Vader, lightsaber ignited, positioned as a sentinel of power and intimidation. His presence grounds the front of the jersey in raw energy and mystery. It’s a dramatic centerpiece that turns the jersey into a canvas of power, and it does more than simply “include” a pop culture icon—it uses him as a focal point of narrative tension.

The placement is brilliant: Vader’s red lightsaber stretches diagonally, cutting through the fabric like a line of division between fandoms, generations, and aesthetics. And yet, it unites them all at the same time. Baseball and Star Wars share themes of loyalty, tradition, and epic battles—and here they all intersect under the stadium lights of El Paso.

VISUAL HARMONY IN THE MIDST OF CHAOS

Despite the visual complexity, the jersey never feels overloaded. The use of space imagery provides texture without clutter, and the red-and-black palette ensures a strong contrast that is both eye-catching and balanced. The sleeves are adorned with complementary logos: the iconic Chihuahuas branding on one side, a crisp Nike swoosh on the other—proof of quality, functionality, and brand confidence.

The back of the jersey continues the galactic narrative with a lineup of stormtroopers—a brilliant design choice. These soldiers of the Empire, faceless yet instantly recognizable, represent both control and fandom unity. Their presence at the base of the shirt provides a grounded foundation, both visually and symbolically.

And hovering above them? The Chihuahuas' mascot once again, now commanding attention like the general of a clone army. It’s humorous, subversive, and endearing—a perfect nod to the team’s fun-loving yet rebellious spirit.

FUNCTION MEETS COSPLAY-READY FLAIR

While the artistic value of the jersey is unquestionable, its wearability and function are just as strong. The fabric is high-performance poly blend, designed for comfort, breathability, and durability—important whether you’re chasing foul balls or hopping light-speed through a fan convention. The traditional baseball cut with button-up front keeps it authentic, while the slim contour gives it streetwear-level appeal.

Whether layered over a tee for casual wear or used as a cosplay centerpiece, this jersey adapts to any setting. That’s part of its genius—it’s not just team merchandise, it’s a collector’s item, a fashion statement, and a fan artifact all at once.

THE TRUE POWER OF FAN CULTURE

What truly elevates this jersey is its cultural resonance. In an era where fandom is identity, and communities are built on shared stories and symbols, the El Paso Chihuahuas Star Wars Night jersey speaks directly to the heart. It honors the diversity of fandom—the kind that loves baseball and sci-fi with equal passion. It acknowledges that for many, growing up with lightsabers and home runs were not separate chapters but one seamless experience.

More importantly, this jersey is a local celebration of global culture. Star Wars is a worldwide phenomenon, but here it becomes something personal. It becomes part of El Paso’s story, woven into the hometown pride of the Chihuahuas. That’s the rare magic of crossover art done right—it doesn't feel corporate or opportunistic. It feels like a celebration of the things we all love, coming together in one spectacular piece of design.

LIMITED EDITION, UNLIMITED IMPACT

Part of the appeal of this jersey lies in its exclusivity. This isn’t a mass-produced, off-the-rack tribute. This is event-specific, limited-run merchandise—a wearable piece of a one-night-only experience. For fans who were there, it’s a memory. For collectors, it’s a treasure. And for everyone else, it’s an aspiration.

This rarity gives the jersey even more artistic and emotional weight. It becomes an artifact of an unforgettable night, a fireworks-filled celebration of fandom, and a tangible piece of the magic that only live baseball can offer.

IN CONCLUSION

The El Paso Chihuahuas Star Wars Night Limited Edition Baseball Jersey is not just one of the best minor league promo designs of the year—it’s one of the most innovative sports-meets-pop culture garments ever created. From its pitch-perfect aesthetic choices to its heartfelt cultural synergy, this jersey does what very few can: it bridges worlds, ignites imaginations, and delivers a product that’s both deeply meaningful and visually unforgettable.

It’s proof that when art, fandom, and local pride align, the result isn’t just a jersey—it’s a force to be reckoned with.

[eyewear-2025]

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