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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed.

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge.

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage.

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

#sherlock holmes #enola holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #unraveled

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heeliopheelia · 1 year

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"can i kiss you?" (jake x fem! reader)

genre: smut, fluff word count: 1k requested by nonnie ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

warnings: fwb, swearing, mentions of bruises

a/n: why does writer's block always magically ✨unblock✨at 3 in the morning?? but anyways, it's jake's turn finally!! i planned to make it way more fluffy and shorter but oh well ://

masterlist

Everything turns into a blur as Jake's hips snap into yours sharply, successfully knocking all the air out of your lungs. With your face buried in his cologne-scented pillow, you've long lost control over all the noises coming out of your throat. Jake's hands are gripping your hips tightly and you're well aware that you're gonna wake up with bruised fingertips printed all over your burning skin.

"Damn, baby, stop squeezing me like that."

You're too caught up in the feeling of his cock hitting so deeply inside you and finally reaching your climax to even realize he's saying something to you. To realize he's just broken the first rule of your deal by calling you a pet name of any sort. Way too intimate.

Your legs begin to shake when his hand pushes your head even further into the pillow, muffling your moans and cries with the silky fabric in an instant. "Stop being so loud," he breathes out, leaning down until his hot breath is brushing over your ear. You can't do much else than whimper in an answer as you reach behind and push on his thighs weakly – an attempt to move away from him as overstimulation starts clouding your mind.

Perhaps sleeping with your best friend's brother while she's sleeping in the room right next to his is foolish, and yet neither of you cares about it so much at the moment. The only thing on your minds is the bliss coming from being split in half by Jake's dick.

You forget about the second rule of the deal that the two of you had made after the first time you ended up having sex as you let his lips suck on your neck harshly, leaving a blossoming bruise right below your jawline. You can't stop the loud whine when his teeth nip on the freshly printed mark and soon you hear his low grunts near your ear as he comes couple minutes after you.

You have only few seconds to relish in the feeling of his body slumping down on yours before he's up on his feet and throwing the used condom to the bin next to his messy desk. You can hear him roaming around the small bathroom attached to his bedroom and you turn your head to the side when you feel the mattress dipping next to you again.

"You good?" Jake asks with a small smile on his pretty lips as you nod weakly.

He places his hands on your hips, gently this time, before flipping you over on your back so that he can get a better look at you. After knowing him for such long time, after all the compromising times he's had you nearly drooling and forgetting your own name, there's really little to zero shame you feel around him anymore.

You watch as he scans the marks he's left on your thighs and hips with a frown. A small wave of warmth rushes down your body as you realize he genuinely cares for you.

"It's okay," you try to assure him, sending him a tired smile.

His eyes snap back to your face. "I wasn't too rough?"

"Nah." You shake your head, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. "It doesn't hurt. Don't worry."

He gives up with a sigh and only then brings up the damp towel that he took from his bathroom couple minutes ago. He runs the warm fabric over your thighs and in between them, cleaning you up as gently as he could. You feel your eyelids getting heavier with every stroke of his, shivering slightly whenever his fingers accidentally make contact with your skin instead of the towel.

You only open your eyes back again when you feel him tugging the soft covers on your body. You groan and lazily push yourself up on your elbows. "Fuck, Jake, I need to go back," you mumble, leaning down to pick your hoodie up from the floor.

You turn around when his hand stops your movements. "Stay," he pleads and you're too far gone to notice he's just broken the third rule. "I'll wake you up in the morning so that you can go back. She won't notice anything, I promise."

You don't even try to put up any fights, only lay back down next to him without any further objection. You're about to snuggle up to his chest when his words interrupt the silence again.

"Can I kiss you?"

Now, you suddenly feel more awake than ever as he undermines the fourth rule of your deal. Your eyes snap open, the entire tiredness leaving your body all at once. You gape at the man hovering above you as breath gets stuck in your throat. There's no way he feels the same, you think to yourself, mind running back to the entire past year of one-sided pining over your friend with benefits.

"Are you serious?" When he nods his head, you let a stupidly giddy smile crawl upon your lips. Noticing how he swallows nervously, eyes struggling from dropping down to your lips, you can't help but tease, "Damn, Jake, you must like me or something?"

"You don't even know how much," he mumbles, tracing his finger along your smiling cheek. "So, what you say?"

Instead of giving him a proper answer, you grab the back of his neck and pull him down, crashing your lips together. A low moan escapes his throat, heart almost leaping out of his chest from happiness and finally making dream of your soft lips on his come to life. The kiss is wet and sloppy but you couldn't care less really. Jake's teeth tug on your bottom lip as he makes himself at home right between your thighs.

You pull away from him before the two of you get carried away and you're unable to think straight until the very morning again. "What does it make us, though?" You ask, fingers sliding down to his jawline.

"Whatever you want it to be, baby," he mutters, impatiently pressing his lips to yours again. "Just wanna be inside you again already. My pretty girl."

And as the both of you are engrossed in giddy giggles, kisses and lust all over again, neither of you is even half prepared for the scolding you're about to get in the morning from your best friend. With pillow forcefully tugged over her ears, she rolls her eyes, deciding that this time she's not gonna let it slide, not like all the other nights during the past four months that she's heard you jumping all over each other like some damn bunnies in the heat.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk

#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jake sim x reader #jake smut #jake sim smut

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sits-bound · 6 months

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Bound: The Star Splitter by @oflights

If there is one thing I am not, it is patient. The minute I finished this fic, I ran off to ask the author for permission to bind it. I'm so happy I'll get to have this one on my shelf!

I spent a lot of time (for me, anyway) on the typeset. I wanted the chapter pages to be special but also was afraid that if I printed them in color, they'd bleed through (like what happened with The Man Who Lived.) But I didn't think I'd be able to fit the text block in my guillotine if I used a heavier weight paper.

Happily, I was able to use the heavier paper and the chapter pages and illustrations (by the absolutely incredible @littlewinnow) without any bleedthrough on the back.

I made the end papers with illustrations off pixabay and foil toner. Do I love them? Not as much as I wish I did. I may do something slightly different for the author copy. We'll see. (Mostly I don't love the color of the cardstock I printed on.)

So once I was happy with the text block, I had to think about the cover. I didn't want to do yet another navy book, so I almost went with black, but I decided to peruse the fabric store for starry printed fabric, and brought home a couple of options. I decided I liked this one the best.

I was also nervous about this because I've never used printed fabric on a cover, and I was worried how the title would look. So I reconfigured my original design to make it legible. Oh, and thanks Joann's for having this holographic HTV on clearance! I love how it looks a million different colors, depending on the light and the angle and what it's reflecting.

Now. Go read this lovely fic if you haven't already!

#fanbinding #ficbinding #bookbinding #sits bound #drarry fic #oflights #littlewinnow #drarry fanart

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swordsmans · 11 months

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oh shit! i made a book.

remember back in september when i said i was going to learn bookbinding. well! weeks of trial and error later, i've finally finished my very first bind! as some of you might have seen in past posts, i decided to focus on my 90k zolu mermaid/mafia au the sea makes bones of bodies and now here we are!

the bind itself is a relatively simple 320 page cased-in flatback with a fabric spine and lotka paper covers and endsheets, but i decided to use it as a "test book" to learn a little bit of everything. so! it features hand-traced gold foil on the cover and spine, a hand-beaded bookmark tipped with a genuine shark tooth (iykyk), and what im calling "cookies and cream" speckled edges (lol)

ive posted some screenshots of the typeset already so i wont go too crazy, but im actually pretty happy with how it looked all put together!! i sewed my signatures together too tightly, i think, so it kind of wants to flop closed (rip) but i tried to take some pictures of how it turned out!

i have a ton of pictures of the text body itself (and fun things like the playlist page, the title pages, etc) but this post is already long enough, haha.

the absolute best, best, best part of this whole project was a huge, wonderful, amazing surprise from @fluffyartbl0g that brought the whole project together!!! they were sweet enough to send some incredible art (!!!!) that i sewed into the front and back!!!

!!! AAA!!!!

overall, i learned so much and i took a ton of notes so i'll (hopefully) avoid some of my beginner mistakes when i do this again. i already have three more versions of the text block printed out and pressing right now! >:3c im going to keep practicing with this story for at least three more binds (because i want to get my technique down and i have some new ideas i want to try), and then switch to typsetting ocean theology and attempt a thinner 40k bind.

shoutout to renegade publishing for their wealth of technical help, and a big huge thank you to the dumbass zone for watching blurry videos of me flipping through printer paper at 3AM and just generally being so, so supportive while i learned all these new skills. you guys are the best!!

now... on to the next one!

EDIT: i've been asked for the typeset, so if you are interested in binding this yourself, you can find all the files here!! :D if you do make your own copy, i would love to see!!! PLEASE TAG MEEE!!!! :DDD

#fanbinding #bookbinding #one piece #bad blade bindery #gyro.odt #zolu #luzo

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yaekiss · 1 year

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#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning.

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within.

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :(

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before.

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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agoraphobic-artist · 3 months

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Kuro Shit <3

Night Garden Perfume - White Tea Scent

First of all, the packaging is stunning!

Looking super classy with the silver foil on the black and the marketing team have gone for the Victorian silhouettes again here; much like the tumbler glasses and the Funtom tea tin.

After undoing the black ribbon on the outside you are greeted by one of the two Black Label designs certificate cards; This one being the stacked teacup design. Also, included is the story printed onto vellum.

Unfortunately, I cannot read Japanese and have to rely on Google but this was what I received back from the translation:

When my partner tried to translate it on their phone however, it came up with the line "A flower soaked in the mist, a teacup with my mother floating in it." ...

...So please take this with a grain of salt.

Before I discuss further findings that might cause a stir. Here is the locket itself, displayed on a pale blue fabric lining with a matching bow to the outside of the presentation box.

It is smaller than I expected, but beautiful to look at, it bares the Phantomhive family crest the same as Sebastian's pocket watch.

The above is a print of one of Yana's arts that doubles as a scented sample card for the perfume. I bought it to find out what the scent would smell like, because it didn't look like anyone would be able to ship the real thing. Tbh, it smells a lot more floral on the card. More like roses.

After having advertisement merchandise for the item for so long, I had started to give up hope on ever owning the actual locket. As most couriers refuse to ship perfume overseas to the UK, I was really lucky to find that there was a loophole in getting this sent to us, as it is technically a solid scent block so doesn't class a a flammable liquid.

And here comes the controversy:

This is a plastic folder, again promoting the perfume.

Unfortunately, the camera didn't pick this up the best, and this is where feathers may be ruffled.

I have long been convinced that the "dark patch" on Ciel's neck was a hickey, but my partner suggested that it could be from the perfume being applied and leaving a small stain.

However, this is the perfume in question.

It is a pale creamy coloured balm, that would barely even show up as little more than a translucent sheen to the skin...

So in conclusion, we now both know that it is in fact NOT the scent, and I was indeed correct that the culprit is Sebastian :)

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #o!ciel #ciel phantomhive #sebaciel #night garden perfume #black label

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hotdogdynamitezzz · 2 years

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Your Fashion and Style Guide

Pt.1

Part 2 (Libra - Pisces) Here

Use your Rising & Venus sign!

Aries:

Prioritizes comfort but doesn't compromise for their fashion style

Absolutely rocks streetwear & athleisure

Prefers sporty fits the most!

Looks best in red & black clothing

Their style always has some sort of edge to it

Big on grunge and vintage rockband t shirts

They love combat boots and they generally prefer flame or camo print clothes

This sounds odd but they kinda remind me of a racecar aesthetic?

Very Sharp with their fashion choices

They look great in leather jackets

A bold colour paired with a neutral for a high contrast look suit them best

They love the rockstar or baddie aesthetic

Looks ~

Taurus:

They have three modes, classy bitches, edgy e-girls & bohemian botanical.

But generally, I see classy and soft the most

Green, Brown, Beige, White, Black, Pink & Red for sensuality.

They love wearing neutrals but they often mix it up with some colour now and again

They usually have some sort of special necklace

A fan of pearls because it's classic

But diamonds are their best friends too ofc

Fuzzy & Fluffy cardigans or sweaters have their heart, especially the white and brown colours

They are into floral and flannel patterns

Their favorite colour options are brown & pink or white & pink 🕊💕

They usually dress more modest but make it look high fashion

They usually like to incorporate silk or a corset into their outfit, being ruled by venus makes them into a sensual and seductive look

Generally they favour comfortable fabrics and silk

Looks ~

Gemini:

I noticed they don't really like dark colours and generally prefer brighter neutrals or colours

They like off-the-shoulder, cold shoulder, cutout tops & cool designs on their shirts whether its long sleeve or not

They choose tops based on the arm style such as balloon sleeves or cutouts

Asymmetrical styles suit them best

Colors are white, bright pinks, and green.

Earrings & Bracelets are their favorite accessories

They like a fairy aesthetic, something that feels whimsical

Likes to switch between feminine and masculine clothing frequently

Very experimental with their clothes

Looks ~

Cancer:

Either soft and girly or moody and dark!

They prefer to keep it modest unless showing off their chest

Their choice of jewelry are pearl necklaces

The shoes they tend to favour are chunky block heels & sandals

Prefers blue, pink & white or black

Soft and flowy clothes like cardigans or kimonos

Knee high socks + sweater dresses look great

They love sweetheart necklines

Into crop tops! Usually silk crops

They like to pair tight clothes with a flowy jacket! Especially if it has a pop of colour

Overall style changes depending on how they're feeling that day

Looks ~

Leo:

Everytime I looked up a Leo rising celebrity that were ALWAYS wearing sunglasses

A fan of sunhats too!

Anything bright & metallic suit them perfectly

They look lavish in silky and shiny materials

They tend to wear fur coats

They like long and sturdy coats in general!

Usually they own big statement jewelry

Everything looks shiny tbh especially their hair.

Sparkly clothes & sequins are their weakness

They could rock sundresses

They look great in animal print, specifically cheetah or leopard.

Bold fashion is their go-to

Even if they wear neutral colours they make sure the texture stands out

Jumpsuits were really popular among them! I think they like to look playful but glamorous at the same time

They will not leave the house unless they look ready for a fashion show lol

Their motive is to standout and turn heads.

Looks ~

Virgo:

Less is more for them

They like simple t-shirts with cute mottos like "be kind" or some shit that HAS to be written in small font or they won't wear it LOL

A Preppy Style & Sweater Vests are their thing

So is gingham print

They rock high-fashion looks

Fake glasses are a cute trend they look good in

A big fan of trench coats and cardigans

They prefer a business casual look

They prefer earthy tones & greens.

They are all about the simplicity in versatility! For instance they usually like black jeans and a white top but the top can be a tube top or a halter top based on what they want that day

They LOVE BLAZERS

Very picky about fashion, I find super bright colors often turn them away

Quality > Quantity for them

A lot of them look great in crop tops, or waist accentuating clothing like kim k is known for

Watches are usually a staple item they prefer

Looks ~

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catnipster69 · 4 months

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Quilt Portrait Process

This may be of no interest to most of you, but with all the comments I got on my Impala portraits, I thought this would be of interest to some of you.

Original Photo

This is the original photo I used--it's of a fan car ("Night Moves") that was at Denver con 2022. What a great photo!

Posterize

In Photoshop, I posterize the photo to get chunkier blocks of color. I just play with the number of levels until I get a good representation.

Draw Lines

I place the posterized image in Illustrator (reversed) and then go to town drawing lines. The rule for pieced quilting is that every line you draw must go all the way until it hits another line. So for the first couple of lines, they go all the way from one end of the photo to the other.

I just keep drawing until I get something like this.

Paint the Pieces with Color

I bring the outlines into Photoshop so I can paint each individual piece with a solid color that will match the (future) fabric. Sometimes posterizing can result in dark colors, so you have some creative liberty to make changes. Note that these are still just screen colors; the actual fabric will differ again.

Outlines:

Colored:

Number the Sewing Order

Paper piecing means that you sew through the paper and fabric. That way, you can be sure to place your seam perfectly.

Generally, in quilting, you want to sew a seam from one end to the other without running into any already sewn seams. For a traditional patchwork, this means you would sew 10 blocks, then sew a row of 5 blocks, and then sew another row of 5 blocks onto the first row.

Paper piecing is the same, but because no "block" is repeated, it's an exercise to determine the sewing order of each block, and then the sewing order of the blocks to each other.

A quilt like the Impala has a few hundred blocks of 1-15 pieces of fabric each. Within each block, the sewn size is near perfect. But sewing the blocks to each other introduces a lot of variability: the seams can be wider or narrower, or the alignment can be off. That's why the actual quilt looks "wonky" compared to the pattern. It's just not possible--for me--to get it perfect. If I didn't work so small, it would be easier.

Back in Illustrator:

You can see that the black lines are pieces within a block. The red lines are blocks. And the green lines are sections of blocks. It all needs to be sewn in order. I will make small changes to the sewing lines at this stage to "make it sewable."

Printing

Because printers aren't the best at replicating onscreen colors exactly (good luck telling the difference between black and dark purple), I have to recolor it to "printable" colors and then do a swatch concordance.

The bright green on the left actually represents lavender.

I print the pattern out on vellum, which is more durable than paper. Since this is 17" x 17", I will print out overlapping 8 1/2" x 11" sheets. Illustrator has a good printing function, so you can print the exact area you want.

Pick Fabric

I have collected a ridiculous amount of fabric. These want solids for the most part, and I looooove Cherrywood solid fabrics. Sometimes it's a challenge getting 5 shades of blue, or 6 beiges for their faces, so sometimes, I make color errors that I don't discover until later. Painful mistake. The above pattern uses 25 colors, but some of the faces use around 40.

Sew

This is a really challenging project. It would be easier if it were bigger! The pieces are so small, and when you start sewing blocks together, the layers get to be ridiculously thick with all the seam allowances. It's a true challenge to feed through the machine. Use a small stitch length; use a good machine with dual feed (Bernina!!! or maybe Pfaff).

Check out the back side of the previous Impala quilt.

I pull out the paper as I go, otherwise it will get accidentally sewn in.

Finishing

I don't do complicated quilting here. The piecing is what's on show! I embroidered the Chevrolet and the license plate lettering. Some things are really too small to piece.

Original Photo Again:

Conclusion

I think anyone could do this, in theory. It takes a lot of patience. And your sewing machine needs to be quality. And it helps to know how to use Photoshop and Illustrator. And you need to "get it" when numbering the pattern, in a mathematical way. And it's helpful owning all the fabric.

If you do try it, make a larger quilt; this size with this level of detail is crazy making.

Check out all my supernatural quilts on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/catnipster69/

#quilting #quilts #quilt process #paper pieced quilts #impala quilt #spn fanart

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harrysmimi · 2 years

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Handsome

Synopsis: One where Harry harbours a little concert crush on someone

Ps. I dreamt this :)

More of my work

YN was very excited to go see Harry finally!

She have been saving for it for ages that she did not hesitate to go just a tiny bit over budget when buying the pit tickets. Her friend was coming too with her. She has been his fan since his first solo album came out and have been wanting to go see him since his very first tour.

Camping out from the sunrise, being exhausted was worth it if she got to see the person who literally kept her sane during her most difficult of times. In fact even save her at some extent.

She was the typical fangirl. But didn't had any of his merch or his vinyls because she couldn't afford it. That doesn't make her any less of a fan. She spent a little too much on the tickets so she had to stick to her closet to pick out an outfit.

She didn't care. Literally. About what she wore. She wore a gown she'd sewn from a bedsheet for an Instagram reel (she just had a public account where she posted a video of her making that dress and it sort of blew up, got about ten thousand likes). It had big puffy sleeves with green leaves printed on the fabric. She didn't know where she'd wear the dress anyway so she pulled it out today.

Though she didn't felt like it, YN did put in some efforts in how she looked, according to her she might bump into a handsome guy or a very pretty girl tonight. People meet at concerts, it wasn't something unusual but rare. She has been single since she last went to prom which was ages ago and her friends have been bugging her to go out so they all can go on a couples only vacation. She is just going to take her Emotional Support cat with, he is only male and a pussy in her life who's not disappointed her yet. It would at least put an end to what her friends have to say when she doesn't find someone at the concert to go on a date with the very next day.

She woke up an hour early to make a sign for Harry. Not a big paper, just a two by two feet thick craft paper. It is big enough for him to read without blocking anyone's view. She was planning to head first so she can stand at the barricade. She doesn't care if she gets crushed. She just wants to have a nice time with her celebrity crush and her best friend.

Oh, and she did picked up a single rose to throw it towards him. Or at least attempt to.

She kept it close to her so no one can steal her idea as she saw many fans making their signs outside. It wasn't very creative, what she wrote but it was her idea. Soon she was let in and luckily her sleep deprivation was rewarded that she got to stand near the barricade.

She stood there, jammed to the pre show set lists and the opening act, waiting patiently for the person she has been dreaming to see for so long. She even made good friends with one of the security guard standing in front of her by the stage. Her heart started racing the moment the love band stepped up on the stage, it would calm down eventually but start pounding again in anticipation of he could pop up anytime on the stage.

He did eventually came up, with his brown guitar as he kick started his show with Golden. He took her breath away, quite literally as he worked and did his job.

An absolute angel, Harry appeared to her. Dressed in a all jean outfit, a vest and his usual pants with his initials on the back pockets in red sparkles. She found it adorable. Though for the longest the initials and three cherries on the back of his vest was only what she saw.

An hour left. Harry was already dreading to go down the stage. He was having a good time, prancing and jumping and running around the stage like a toddler, singing his songs with double sexual meanings to them. That was an ironic combo he liked to call when he'd see his fans talk about him using those exact same words.

He walked around. Care free. Up until someone caught his eyes. Though she blended in with crying and freaking out fans. She had a small sign with her which she held over the barricade. He found that very sweet of her as she wasn't blocking anyone's attention. But what her sign said was even sweeter and melted his head.

Sunshine, you look so very handsome tonight!!! - it said with a yellow iPhone esque smily emoji drawn on the the end. And there was a red rose in her hand.

He felt blood rushing upto his face, warming his cheeks as he read her sign, again, as he sang through Daydreaming. The nickname got him.

YN almost peed her pants seeing that he saw her sign and smiled at her. He was red like a tomato, how pale he was didn't helped to conceal it either in bright artificial lights around him. From then he kept going back to where she was stood, checking in on time to time, her sign was still on it's place. She wasn't filming but she made sure her friend was. At one point she even doubted he was even looking at her and expressed her concern tk her friend.

"He's looking at you idiot," she said, "he's not cross eyed!"

YN liked to believe that in that moment because everything felt like a waking dream to her. She was dreaming with her eyes wide open in all her consciousness, in all her senses. Though she still doubts it's one of those dreams which feels awfully real that when you wake up you feel like it literally happened to you seconds ago.

Harry couldn't help himself but look at the girl with the sign. He'd said it before that he can tell how he feels about someone with just looking in their eyes and he saw how sweet she was through her eyes. Or at least he liked to think so, because she is also so very gorgeous and easy on eyes to look at, like holding onto am Amethyst crystal or places slices of fresh cucumber on your eyes, or getting the perfect amount of sleep at night time.

Is he over exaggeration? Absolutely he doesn't not care!

Before the encore, he stopped to read a few signs. Talk to a couple of people before he went ahead and read her sign out loud because it was just that sweet of a gesture anyone has ever done for him. And he just wanted to talk to her.

"Sunshine, you look so very handsome tonight," Harry read, "why thank you, darling, so do you!" He was flattered all over again, he saw her eyes sparkle as tears brim up in her pretty eyes. She was surprised!

"What is your name?" He asked, crouching down to get closer so he can get her name right, even took off one of his ear piece.

"YN!" She said as loud as she could.

Harry heard it, "YN?" He asked to make sure and she nodded. "Yes, got it right!" He celebrated making the crowd erupt in screams. "Are you from around here YN?" She nodded in no to answer him, "where are you from?"

"India, but I'm here to study." She said, not loud enough but he could read her lips.

"You're here to study? What are you studying, YN?" Harry asked.

The more he kept saying her name the more it made her go crazy inside, and not to mention cry happy tears. Harry knew that so he didn't pointed it out.

"Business?" He said, "that's amazing, best of luck with the rest of your course. Are you having a good time tonight, YN?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed.

"Thank you so much for coming to the show tonight." He stood up because he's got a show to do, "whenever you go back home, give my love to the fans in India. Thank you for bringing such a sweet sign."

"I got you this!" She forwarded the red rose to him holding it at the very tip so it could reach him, standing on her tippy toes as she leaned forward.

"Oh that's for me?" He asked, he didn't hear what she said as he's put his earpiece back on, "thank you." He took it, smelled it.

He went on to introduce the next song, and YN stood there in shock, letting her brain process what the just happened. Just for him to hit her in the face by singing Medicine after two songs. Well, he didn't hit her but it was like a punch in her face. But he still kept going back to where she was stood, not even being subtle about it. The girls around her started to give her side eyes seeing that.

She was looking for the rose she gave him. She thought he threw it away at some other fan like he usually does, but instead she found it hung on the belt hook of his pants.

"He's got a crush on you!" Her friend yelled when he looked at her for the millionth time there.

"Stop it." She mumbled to her friend, feeling suddenly threatened when more people around her started to look at her and even film those little interactions. Being in the fandom YN has closely seen how scary his fans can get, even though he was just looking at her, it made her feel scared somewhere in her heart.

It was best to brush it off and move on and enjoy the rest of the show.

"Do you like know him?" A girl standing next to YN's best friend asked once Harry had ran off stage and everyone was leaving as well.

"Like personally? No," YN answered confusedly and earned a weirded out look from the girl as she walked away.

"Well, she was a bitch." YN's friend commented making her laugh. "See your bedsheet dress caught his eye, now when are you two getting married?" She hooked her arm around YN's as they walked out.

"Next week." YN smiled with a faux-blush and they both ended up in a fit of laugh. "Did you get all the pictures of us?"

"Oh yes!" Her friend nodded. They looked through the pictures both of them took together today, going though the memories they miss already. "Oh my god, I'm going through my post concert depression. How do you feel?"

They both were in a can back to their flat, "I feel like I'm dreaming. I might miss all of this in the morning."

"Did you gals went to Harry Styles concert today?" Their cab driver asked. It was a lady who seemed to be in her mid 40s, she was super sweet and they talked throughout the ride back home, to YN and her friend's surprised she liked his music too.

It was when YN reached that it hit to her that everything happened tonight was real!

She really talked to the guy she has been crushing over for past six-seven years. That made all the sleep disappear from her system even though she. She stayed up going through the videos her friend sent, giggling to herself like a little idiot.

She is idiot for him and she takes all the pride in that.

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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thecookie-monster8 · 4 months

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The internet has never left a stone unturned when announcing/ showing to the world how bad of a country India is.

But what about the beatiful parts of my country that are hidden from the world and what about the customs and concepts they'll never see and know?

The image above is a fabric shop, you'll find it in every city and every state of India. The prints vary according to the region but now you can get Rajasthani block prints in every nook and corner of India or Kalamkari which originated in Andhra Pradesh but is worn throughout the country.

Everytime I step into a shop like this, I'm boggled with the array of neatly arranged fabrics grading from darker to lighter shades. The sales people in the shops are also so cooperative and actually help you pick out the best fabric.

To all the people on Tumblr that are not from India, if you guys ever visit India, make sure you step into a fabric shop for once and it will be a visually satisfactory experience.

I'll keep posting things these little things from India that make my country fascinating.

Fellow desi Tumblrs, y'all can join in this series too! If you do post, make sure to tag me!

Jai Hind��🇳

#india #desi tumblr #indian #desi core #bharat #indian cricket team #london #usa #world

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owlishfuncrafts · 3 months

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Long time since I worked on blockprinting, but I wanted to make a some designs for a community market this weekend. I scaled up the skull design I made previously, and made some mushroom and leaf prints to combine with it.

We'll see how they sell, but I'm really happy with the quality of the prints and how the ombre came out! If I sell some then I'll experiment with other colours and some new designs for the following market.

Info: Hand craved stamps into soft rubber blocks. Experimented with hand pressing (with baren) and small printing press, with the most consistent best results being from the hand pressing. Used a soft rubber brayer for the ombre and a regular rubber brayer for the black ink. Speedball fabric block printing ink on canvas.

#linocarving #linoprint #linocut #block printing #rubber carving #relief print #handmade #carving #fine art #stamp #fabric printing #speedball ink #speedball #floral #plants #skull

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crushedgraham · 1 year

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Can you write a smut fanfic where D.Va and reader were playing together but Hana was being a sore loser and starts teasing her gf to distract her from the game? And ends up very fucked up if you know what i mean 🥰

Mario Kart Escapades

oops went a little overboard with this one...lemme know if you guys like the longer or shorter fics better!

"Ugh! 꺼져! (fuck off)"

A pillow gets thrown at your face which muffles your laugh. You sit up, tossing the pillow onto the floor to get a good look at the small girl curled into the corner of the couch. Hana has a vice grip on the controller, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"How the hell do you keep winning?!"

"I'm just better, bunny. You know you can't beat me at Mario Kart"

That only seems to deepen the crease between her brows. A new round begins with you in first and Hana second. But as you're revving up your kart, her figure quickly blocks your view, a familiar weight in your lap.

"Hana move!"

Hana giggles evilly as your kart slams into the side of the track, all the other bots and herself speeding past you. You adjust to push her away with your elbows but her toned thighs lock against yours with a strength you didn't know she had. Usually this position, with her ass facing you, would ignite a hot pit of desire into your lower stomach but right now you had to push it away.

Competition was apart of the foundation of your relationship, you were one of the few people that could actually match the notorious D.va's competitiveness. And being one - if not the best e-sports player in the country (maybe even the world), Hana won most of the time. But on the rare occasion that you did beat her, she'd turn into a total sore loser.

Like now. A loud grunt escapes you as you thrust your hips up to get her off, but what you don't expect is an equally loud (exaggerated) moan to leave her. Then you realize it, she's fucking with you. Hana grinds her ass against the crotch of your thin shorts. The frustration simmering in your chest mixes with the shocks of pleasure in your core, creating a haze that overtakes every thought besides Hana. You can't take your eyes off of her, no matter how hard you try. Hana's body was perfect, small and petite with a beautifully rounded ass. The small red switch controller lays abandoned in your left hand as your right fists the sorry excuse of fabric that her team created as booty shorts.

"I win."

You don't even have to see her face to know she has a smug smile spread across her pink lips. Hana's back now presses against your chest so she can lean up and nip at your ear to really rub in her victory.

"You owe me milk tea for a week now sucker!"

Hana moves to hop off your lap but you're faster. Your hands dwarf her small hips, flipping her onto her knees with her face buried into the leather cushions of the couch.

"Hey- What the fuck Y/N??"

Your left hand squeezes both her wrists together behind her back in a bruising grip; your left placed around her throat with no pressure, just as a threat.

"Such a brat."

The words are sneered from your lips with a venomous tone causing Hana to suck in a sharp breath. Your teeth drag down the collar of her shirt to reveal slender, milky shoulders that're just begging to be marked. Hana lets out a muffled whine as your canines dig into the skin, surely leaving a red print of teeth that'll remain for the rest of the week; ensuring that everyone who sees it knows who she belongs to.

You release the hold on her neck to slither underneath her loose shirt. The fingertips of your calloused hands gently rubbing against her nipples, drawing a moan from her. Hana pushes her hips back, grinding against nothing for some sort of relief.

"Look at you, so desperate. I bet your pussy's already drenched and I've barely even touched you"

An incoherent noise of agreement slurs from her lips as you twist and pinch at the sensitive buds. Hana did always love when you got rough on occasion. Your lips trail up the side of her neck, leaving a trail of purples and maroons - she was your canvas tonight.

"Fuck, Jagi. Need you...need you so bad..."

"Yeah? What does my bunny need, hm?"

Hana can't even form the words in her brain, the stimulation on her nipples and the embarrassment from her position melts her brain.

"Tell me baby."

Her nipples are beginning to get sore and sensitive from all the stimulation, making her cry out when you emphasize your statement with a twist of her right nipple.

"Shit! Fuck me! Please Jagi need it so bad"

You tut, sucking at your teeth while pulling away and releasing your hands from her overheating body. Hana whines in protest at the lack of touch, her body trembling from the overwhelming lust buzzing throughout her body. Beads of sweat roll down the curve of her spine and drip off of her when you swiftly smack your hand across her ass. The contact creates a loud "thwack!" that gets drowned out by Hana's moans.

"So demanding...I bet this is what you wanted all along huh? To be fucked like a slut"

Nonetheless, you cup her pussy through the thin shorts. Hana's shorts were completely soaked. A prominent dark patch seeps through the fabric, coating her inner thighs in her slick. Your self control was slipping faster than you'd like to admit, her adorable little noises spurring you on as you rubbed her clit through the ruined material. God, Hana could've probably came just from that, the slow circles wouldn't usually be enough but she was already on edge. Her thighs quaked and her free hands fisted the cushions - she was right there.

"You're not allowed to come, Hana"

When you pull your hand away, a cross between a whine and a groan rips from her throat. Her feet kick childishly to convey her frustration. You hush her as you shove her ruined shorts down to her knees, and the sight your met with makes you bite your tongue to keep a moan at bay. Hana's cunt is absolute perfection, swollen and a downright sinful shade of red. You can't help yourself when you lean forward to swipe your tongue across her slit, collecting a good amount of slick on your tongue. Your moans mix; yours from the taste of her and Hana's from the sudden pleasure that spikes through her body.

That's what does it for you. Your tongue fully dives into her sopping cunt, eager to taste all of her. Hana cries out, still sensitive from being edged - her hand reaching behind her to fist your hair, keeping your face smothered in her pussy. The way you're eating her out mimics that of a starved animal. As you lap at her, growls and moans vibrate throughout her body, sending a rhythmic pulse to her clit. You find yourself losing your mind almost instantaneously, taking the term 'pussydrunk' a little too literally. Your jaw moves down to suck at her clit, then releasing it to lick at it side to side. At this point you don't know who's pleasure you're doing it for, hers or yours.

"Mmm! I'm so..fuck..close!"

Your tongue slides back to prod at her slit, hungry for more. Pushing in is a task, her cunt tight from how close she is and she screams once the majority of it's stuffed inside of her. The muscle moves in and out as best as you can when she's clenching down on you, her walls pulsing - a telltale sign that she's about to come. Eager to make her finish, your thumb draws tight, quick circles into her clit.

Hana's walls clamp down on you, a gush of come filling your mouth as she screams your name. You moan in satisfaction at her taste, pulling out your tongue to lap up the remaining slick. But Hana writhes away from you, collapsing onto the damp cushions. Her eyes are closed as her chest heaves up and down to catch the breath that she didn't know she was holding. You lean down so your teeth catch against her flushed ear, whispering:

"I'd say I won, bunny"

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